Five Years Ago
The girl awoke in a cold, damp alley, her face pressed into the filthy ground. Moisture seeped through her clothes, clinging to her skin, and her nose filled with the stench of stagnant water, rot, and mold. She gasped sharply, as if choking, then pushed herself onto her knees and wiped the grime from her face.
Where was she?
Who was she?
Why was there only filth and gray walls closing in on both sides?
Her memory was gone — no faces, no voices, no images. Only emptiness. Her dirt-smeared fingers brushed against her clothes — torn, ragged scraps barely hanging together. Her bare feet were bruised and scratched, as if she had run barefoot over jagged stones or through thorny bushes. From the outside, it was hard to tell she was a girl at all. With her short hair and tattered clothing, she looked more like a homeless boy — which, for all she knew, she might have been. With no memories to go on, she couldn't claim otherwise.
A noise caught her attention. Pressing herself to the wall, she carefully peeked out into the street, where a cacophony of human voices mixed with the sounds of animals. Looking around, she studied the buildings, trying to see if any of them seemed familiar or stirred a memory. But nothing came. With a sigh, she retreated back into the alley.
Standing there alone, she seemed unusually calm for a child with no memory, abandoned in an unknown place — though her thoughts betrayed a faint panic.
{What should I do? What should I do?}
Taking a deep breath, she tried to think through her options.
{Maybe I should ask for help? But from whom? The guards?}
Glancing down at her rags again, she gave a crooked, bitter smile and shook her head.
{I'm a beggar. If they don't beat me away with sticks, that'll already be lucky. Same with passersby. Though… maybe I'm not homeless, just from a poor family? Maybe my parents are looking for me?}
A fragile spark of hope still lived inside her, and she decided to wait a while longer in the alley.
{If no one comes for me, I'll try to find other beggars. They probably know each other in this area — maybe they can tell me something.}
The shadows stretched as the sun rose higher, but no one came. From time to time, sounds drifted in from the street — laughter, footsteps, animal cries — yet they all seemed distant, belonging to another world. She waited. Waited until her legs went numb and her heart pounded painfully with disappointment.
{They're not coming.}
The thought hit her like a blow. Her lips pressed into a stubborn line as her eyes filled with restrained tears.
{I can't sit here forever.}
Having made up her mind, she stepped out of the alley and went searching.
Whether by luck or misfortune, she didn't have to search long. Near one of the many buildings, on a patch of bare ground between market stalls, sat a man in shabby clothes with no legs. A few copper coins scattered on a rag before him made his "profession" obvious.
Keeping her distance, the girl managed to catch his attention.
— Hey, kid! — the one-legged man rasped. Sitting against the wall, he eyed her with a mix of curiosity and caution. — What're you doing hanging around here?
She pretended not to be intimidated, straightening slightly to look more confident.
— Just walking. Got things to do, — she said curtly, folding her arms.
The man snorted and smirked.
— Things to do, huh? If some guard kicked your sorry ass, just say it, brat! Listen, this ain't your turf, got it? Go back to your own kind before there's trouble.
Whether he pointed in a direction or just waved vaguely, she didn't bother asking. She simply started walking that way, saying nothing in reply. People mostly ignored her — though a few spared her a disgusted glance.
A few intersections later, she noticed a small group of ragged children weaving through the crowd. The oldest looked about thirteen. Counting four of them in total, she approached cautiously, trying to think of how to start a conversation — but before she could, one of them snatched something from a merchant's hand with startling speed.
Sensing trouble, the girl instinctively stepped back, but a passerby shoved her roughly aside for blocking his way, knocking her to the ground.
From where she sat, she saw the boy vanish into the crowd with his stolen prize. The merchant — a burly man with a red, furious face — spun around, searching wildly. Failing to find the real thief, his gaze landed on her.
— Aha, got you! — he roared, storming toward her with his hand raised. — You're all in on this, you damned rats!
— I didn't do anything! — she tried to explain, but her thin, frightened voice only enraged him more.
Realizing he wouldn't believe her, she tried to run. She barely made it a few steps toward an alley before the furious merchant grabbed her shoulder and slammed her into the wall. A sharp kick to her stomach stole her breath, and then the blows came one after another. Pain, searing and unbearable, drowned out everything — sound, sight, even thought — until the world turned to ringing noise and darkness.
When it finally ended, she felt nothing at all. She lay on the cold, wet ground, unable to move. The merchant wiped his hands and spat.
— Trash belongs with trash, — he muttered, disappearing around the corner.
Barely conscious, the girl forced her swollen eyes open. Her body ached as if crushed by a wagon. She tried to move but could only turn her head slightly. All she saw was filth, garbage, and cold stone walls. A few paces away — cold people, too.
Closing her eyes, she wanted nothing more than to drift into unconsciousness — maybe die quietly in her sleep — when she heard soft footsteps approaching. Deciding to ignore them, she didn't move.
— Hey... are you alive? — a child's voice rang out, light and crystalline like wind chimes. The question itself made her eyelids flutter open, heavy as lead. Trying to move brought only a hoarse groan.
— Don't move, — said the stranger gently, pulling a small ceramic vial from her pouch. She uncorked it, and the sweet, herbal scent filled the air. — This will help. Drink.
The stranger helped her lift the vial to her lips, and the girl took a careful sip. The liquid was warm and bitter, filled with the taste of crushed herbs. Almost immediately, the pain began to fade, carried away as if by a warm breeze. Her wounds closed, and strength returned.
When her vision cleared, the nameless girl finally saw her rescuer clearly — a richly dressed girl, about her age, with striking white hair and eyes like two black diamonds. Meeting those eyes brought her an unexpected calm.
— Thank you.
— You're welcome, — the girl replied with a soft smile. — Try not to move just yet. The medicine works fast, but it'll take a bit of time to finish healing. Rest for now.
The nameless girl wanted to ask her rescuer's name, but she didn't get the chance.
— Lady QinXuan! — a sharp female voice called out.
— Return immediately! — the woman continued, glaring at the white-haired girl. — You're late for your meeting with the Lin family, and these little adventures of yours are most improper!
QinXuan sighed and turned back to the wounded girl.
— I have to go, — she said after a brief pause. Then, more firmly: — Don't try to stand yet. Rest and recover.
She waved lightly, her gentle smile tinged with concern. Then she left with the woman, leaving behind only the faint scent of herbs and the memory of kindness.
QinXuan.
That was the first name the unknown girl remembered — in a city that otherwise showed her no mercy.