---
The doors slammed shut behind her, but the echo clung to her skin like smoke.
Outside the Lin estate's banquet hall, the world felt suffocatingly quiet. Moonlight bathed the courtyard in silver, but all Lin Xiao could see was the red gleam of humiliation behind her eyes. Her father's voice still rang in her ears, dripping with cold condescension. Family loyalty. A woman's place.
She exhaled shakily and pressed a hand against her chest.
It wasn't just the confrontation—it was the memories it dredged up.
Her body moved toward the garden before her thoughts could catch up. The same garden where, years ago in her past life, she had knelt as a child—soaked in the rain, sobbing quietly while her stepmother scolded her for dirtying the tiles. She'd only been six.
She had stood by the peach tree that day, hoping her father would come to her defense.
He never did.
---
A branch cracked underfoot.
She turned sharply.
Li Wei stood there in a black suit, half-shadowed by the moonlight, hands in his pockets. He said nothing, just studied her, eyes unreadable.
"You followed me," Lin Xiao murmured, her voice hoarse.
"I watched you stand up to him," he said. "He didn't take it well."
"No," she whispered, then forced a bitter smile. "He never does."
A silence stretched between them. Familiar. Painful.
Then Li Wei said quietly, "Do you remember the time you broke your arm in primary school?"
Lin Xiao blinked. "Why are you—?"
"You fell off the monkey bars, and everyone was too scared to touch you. But I ran all the way to the infirmary barefoot."
She stared at him. The memory came in pieces—dull light, a screaming pain, small feet slapping against concrete.
"I didn't think you'd remember that," she said after a long pause.
"I remember everything," he said simply. "Especially when it comes to you."
Lin Xiao turned away, trying to hide the sting in her eyes. "That girl died, Li Wei."
"Maybe," he replied softly. "But you're still here. Standing. Even after everything."
---
The silence returned. But this time, it wasn't heavy. It was… grounding.
Until another voice cut through the moment like shattered glass.
"Well, well. What a tender scene."
Qiao Rui stepped out from behind a hedge, arms crossed over her chest, high heels clicking against the stones. She wore a crimson gown that clung to her figure, but her eyes were sharp and cold as ever.
"You," Lin Xiao said flatly.
"Me," Qiao Rui purred, walking closer. "Zhang Jian told me you'd try something tonight. Thought I'd see it for myself."
Lin Xiao kept her expression neutral, but Li Wei immediately stepped closer.
Qiao Rui's smile curved. "Don't worry, I'm not here to fight. Not yet. But I don't like girls who suddenly think they can steal the spotlight."
"Then look away," Lin Xiao replied coolly.
The smirk dropped for half a second—just long enough.
Qiao Rui leaned in. "I'll be watching you. Carefully."
Then she spun on her heel and disappeared into the darkness, perfume lingering behind like smoke after a firework.
---
Later that night, Lin Xiao sat alone in her room. The gown was gone, replaced with a sweater and pants. Her hair damp from a shower. But no amount of heat could chase away the chill in her bones.
She sat on her bed, hugging her knees, the confrontation with her father replaying like a cruel loop. And underneath it all, deeper and more bitter, the memories stirred again.
The school hallway where she was shoved against lockers. The laughter. The bruises hidden under her sleeves. Her stepmother's mocking voice: You must've invited it—girls like you always do.
And her father. Always distant. Always gone.
Lin Xiao shuddered violently.
You're weak, she told herself. Still weak.
But even as the tears burned her eyes, she clenched her fists and whispered aloud:
"No."
Not again.
She would rise. Slowly. Painfully. Not as a heroine in a fantasy. But as a girl clawing her way out of her own grave.
Of course. Here's the continuation.
---
Morning came, but it did not bring light.
The sun broke through the curtains of Lin Xiao's room like a blade—not gentle, but blinding. Her eyes opened to the sharp sound of her alarm, her limbs stiff, her throat dry. She hadn't truly slept.
Sleep had turned to memory again.
The cold concrete of the old school rooftop. The sound of footsteps behind her. That voice—snide, mocking, cruel.
"You think you're better than us now? Just a charity case in designer rags…"
Hands. Shoving. Her head against the wall.
She sat up too quickly. The room spun.
Breathing came shallow.
She squeezed her eyes shut. It's over, she told herself. That life is over.
But it wasn't. Not entirely.
Because she still felt the phantom bruises. Still heard her stepmother's voice whenever she hesitated. Still remembered how her father had looked away every time she cried.
And today… she had to face them again.
---
The Lin family mansion was quiet when she descended the stairs. Too quiet.
Breakfast was a ceremony in itself. Her father sat at the head of the long table, reading the news on a sleek tablet, while her mother—the lawful wife, once a beauty now faded and voiceless—poured tea with the reverence of a servant.
Her stepmother, Lin Xue's mother, was already seated across from them. Perfectly painted lips. Diamond-studded fingers. A smile like poison. Lin Jun wasn't there—no doubt nursing his ego after the banquet.
"Good morning," Lin Xiao said softly, voice neutral.
No one responded.
She sat down and calmly reached for a slice of bread.
"You embarrassed your father last night," her stepmother said without looking up. "What were you thinking? Speaking like that in public?"
Lin Xiao lifted her gaze. "I was thinking about how no one stopped me."
Her stepmother stiffened.
Her father finally looked up, dark eyes unreadable. "You have a sharp tongue these days."
"I have sharper things," she replied, then softened her tone. "But I'm here, Father. Isn't that what matters?"
He studied her a moment. Then set down his tablet.
"I want you to sign a transfer agreement," he said bluntly.
Lin Xiao froze. "For what?"
"The inheritance." His tone was almost bored. "You're still young. It should be managed by someone more… experienced."
Lin Xiao's heart thudded once. "You mean you."
His wife looked away, pleased but pretending not to be.
Lin Xiao set her utensils down slowly. "So you finally admit I'm the rightful heir?"
Silence.
"You never wanted a daughter," she said softly. "You cast my mother aside for a mistress, and now that I have something you want, I suddenly matter?"
Her father's jaw tightened.
"You will sign the papers," he said coldly. "That is not a request."
Lin Xiao stood. "No. That is a mistake."
And with that, she turned and walked away, her pulse thunderous in her ears.
---
At school, the weight returned.
The hallway felt narrower. Shadows longer. She turned corners too fast. Flinched at footsteps behind her.
And then she saw Qiao Rui.
Standing at her locker like a queen, surrounded by hangers-on. She noticed Lin Xiao immediately.
"You look pale," she said with a cruel smile. "Having trouble sleeping? Or are you just guilty about stealing someone else's place in the family?"
Lin Xiao didn't reply. Her silence only seemed to amuse Qiao Rui more.
"I'd be careful, if I were you," she added, stepping closer. "Your little rebellion is cute, but boys like Zhang Jian don't like used toys."
Lin Xiao's body went still.
But she didn't lash out.
Instead, she leaned in, her voice low. "And yet you're still chasing after someone who doesn't want you."
For the first time, Qiao Rui's face cracked.
Lin Xiao walked away before the girl could reply, her heart hammering. Her hands shook once she reached the stairwell.
She hated it.
Hated that the past still lived in her veins. That her body still remembered how it felt to be powerless.
---
Later that day, she sat alone on the rooftop again. The air was colder. The sky more grey than blue.
Li Wei appeared without warning, carrying a small thermos.
He said nothing, just sat beside her, handed it over.
Warm ginger tea. The kind her grandmother used to make.
"I don't want to talk," Lin Xiao said quietly.
"You don't have to," he replied.
And so they sat. Silent. Still.
Until finally, Lin Xiao whispered, "If I fall apart, will you still look at me the same?"
Li Wei turned to her. "You think I don't already see the cracks?"
That should've stung. But it didn't.
Because his voice wasn't mocking.
It was kind.