The winter wind cut through the palace courtyard like a blade.
Snow fell silently, covering the stone paths in white, as if trying to hide the cruelty that lived within the grand walls of the imperial palace. Servants hurried past with lowered heads, their breaths visible in the cold air, their movements quick and cautious.
Among them was a girl no one paid attention to.
"Li Xueying! Are you deaf?"
The sharp voice cracked through the air.
Xueying flinched, her thin hands tightening around the wooden bucket she carried. The icy water inside sloshed, spilling over and soaking her already numb fingers.
"I—I'm here," she said quickly, bowing her head as she approached.
Standing before her was Zhao Meilin, wrapped in layers of fine silk, her beauty radiant even in the cold. Beside her stood Lady Zhao Lihua, her elegant face calm but her eyes filled with quiet disdain.
Meilin looked Xueying up and down, her lips curling in disgust.
"Why do you always look so miserable?" she said. "It's unpleasant."
Xueying lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry, Miss."
"Sorry?" Meilin scoffed. "That face of yours is already bad enough. At least try not to make it worse."
A few nearby servants chuckled softly, careful not to be too loud.
Xueying's fingers tightened around the bucket, but she said nothing.
Lady Zhao finally spoke, her voice smooth but cold. "You were told to clean the inner hall before noon. Why are you still here?"
"I finished the west wing first, Madam," Xueying replied softly.
"And who told you to think?" Lihua's gaze sharpened. "You are a servant. You follow orders."
Xueying bowed lower. "Yes, Madam."
Meilin stepped closer, her embroidered shoes stopping just inches from Xueying's worn ones.
"Look at you," she murmured. "Skin dull, clothes filthy… If someone didn't know better, they'd think you were born in the slums."
Xueying's heart tightened.
If only they knew.
But they didn't.
And they never would—at least, that's what she had always believed.
"Pour the water," Meilin suddenly said.
Xueying hesitated. "Miss?"
"Pour it," Meilin repeated, her tone turning sharp.
Before Xueying could react, Meilin kicked the bucket.
Cold water splashed violently, soaking Xueying from head to toe. The freezing liquid clung to her thin clothes, stealing what little warmth she had left.
A gasp escaped her lips.
Meilin laughed.
"Oh dear," she said mockingly. "How clumsy."
Xueying trembled, her body shaking from the cold, but she forced herself to kneel.
"I'm sorry, Miss."
"Clean it up," Lady Zhao added calmly, already turning away. "And do not embarrass this household again."
As they walked off, their laughter echoed faintly behind them.
Xueying stayed kneeling in the snow long after they left.
The cold seeped into her bones, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.
She had grown used to this.
The insults.
The humiliation.
The way no one ever looked at her as if she mattered.
Slowly, she began gathering the spilled water with a cloth, her movements mechanical.
No one noticed when her hands started bleeding from the cold.
No one noticed when her tears fell silently into the snow.
No one ever did.
High above, behind a wooden window, someone was watching.
A man stood in the shadows, his hands clenched tightly behind his back.
His eyes, usually calm and commanding, were now filled with something rare.
Pain.
"Your Majesty…" a eunuch beside him whispered carefully. "Should we… intervene?"
Li Jianhong said nothing for a long moment.
His gaze remained fixed on the girl below.
On his daughter.
The daughter the world believed was nothing more than a servant.
"…Not yet," he finally said, his voice low and heavy.
But the regret in his eyes told a different story, it showed h pained he was, how deeply he was hurt on her behalf.