Chapter 8: Her past

The next morning, pale sunlight spilled into the shabby courtyard. Dew clung to the crooked wooden fence, and a few sparrows hopped across the cracked roof tiles. The place was quiet, too quiet.

Inside her room, Zhao Lingxi sat cross-legged on a thin mat. Her back was straight, her posture steady, and her eyes remained closed. The faint rhythm of her breathing filled the silence. Even the dust motes drifting in the air seemed to hesitate, as if afraid to disturb her.

The door creaked open. Lan Yue followed behind Chen Mei, each of them carrying the simple items a young miss should have in the morning. Chen Mei balanced a wooden basin filled with warm water, steam rising gently in the cool air. Lan Yue carried a folded set of plain clothes with a small towel on top.

In noble households, the morning routine was a ritual of dignity. Servants would rise before dawn to prepare scented water with herbs and petals, arrange fine silk robes, and kneel beside their mistress to help her wash her face, comb her hair, and step into embroidered slippers.

Here, in this neglected courtyard, all of that was gone. The basin held nothing but plain water. The clothes were clean but worn, the fabric rough against the skin. No combs of jade or hairpins of gold could be found here. Only a wooden comb tucked into a drawer. Yet Chen Mei carried the tray with steady hands, as though every item still mattered.

They entered quietly. Zhao Lingxi didn’t stir. Her lashes stayed lowered, her face pale but serene, as if her soul had wandered somewhere far away.

Chen Mei lowered her voice and glanced at Lan Yue. “Wait here. If Young Miss needs something, attend her. But don’t disturb her cultivation.”

She set the basin on the low table, bowed quickly, and slipped back out, leaving Lan Yue standing alone in the room.

Lan Yue let out a soft sigh. So this was her life now. Waiting quietly in the corner of a dusty room, ready to hand over a towel or pour water whenever Zhao Lingxi opened her eyes. A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

Once, she had been a leader feared in her own world, strong enough to make others tremble at her name. And now? Now she was a lowly servant whose very survival depended on the mood of the young woman meditating in front of her.

Her gaze lingered on Zhao Lingxi’s figure. Fragile. That was what anyone else would see. But Lan Yue could feel it. The stillness wasn’t weakness. It was the kind of silence that came before a storm.

She frowned. Zhao Lingxi’s meridians had been sealed from birth, leaving her powerless, mocked as useless even within her own clan. But Lan Yue knew better.

Why had her meridians been sealed?

Because Zhao Lingxi wasn’t ordinary.

According to the original storyline, she carried the soul of a terrifying existence, one capable of upsetting the balance between the immortal and mortal realms. Her very presence threatened the heavenly order.

The immortal clans had wanted her destroyed from the very beginning. To them, letting her live was like keeping a spark hidden in dry grass—dangerous and foolish. But her mother, unwilling to sacrifice her child, had sealed her meridians to bury that spark, keeping Zhao Lingxi powerless and hidden.

But safety had its price. Without strength, she was ridiculed, pushed aside, and treated as if she were less than nothing. And worse still, in the faraway Demon Realm, chaos reigned. Their ruler had fallen, and the demon clans tore themselves apart, searching for their missing lord. Because Zhao Lingxi was their reincarnated master, and only she could restore order.

Of course, Zhao Lingxi herself hadn’t known any of this until after her rebirth. Now she carried the knowledge like a heavy burden. Her mother had left behind an inheritance—a key to unsealing her meridians. But she did not know how to use it.

And fate had already tied her to someone else. The Crown Prince, the destined male lead would one day be the one to help her. With his aid, her seal would shatter.

And then… hell would be unleashed upon all realms.

Lan Yue scratched her head, her thoughts tangled. Wait a second… what did that make her? Was she the heroine of this world, or the actual villainess?

She thought about the original plot. Once Zhao Lingxi’s meridians were unsealed, her cultivation would rise like a storm, and she would begin her long path of revenge. Blood would flow, families would fall. If Lan Yue helped her now, maybe she’d earn mercy later?

Her lips twisted. She had read enough stories to know the truth: side characters rarely had happy endings. They were used, discarded, or slaughtered along the way.

“No, no, no,” she muttered under her breath. “Best to stay far away from the main plot. Survive quietly. That’s my only path.”

Just then, the door creaked open again. Chen Mei stepped in, bowing with practiced grace. “Your ladyship, the master has summoned you to the main hall.”

The air shifted instantly.

Zhao Lingxi’s eyes opened, her long lashes lifting slowly. Her gaze was like a blade of ice. Cold. Sharp. It sent an invisible shiver through the room.

Lan Yue nearly flinched. Good heavens… she looks like she’s ready to kill someone.

Zhao Lingxi tilted her head slightly, her voice soft yet carrying a chilling weight. “It’s that time already?”

The way she said it was calm, unhurried yet every word felt like a decree.

Lan Yue blinked, dumbfounded for a second. Then the corner of her lips twitched. Wait… wait a minute. Why does she look less like a bullied heroine right now and more like some domineering male lead from a romance novel?

She could almost imagine Zhao Lingxi leaning against a wall, smirking at some beauty and saying in that same low, magnetic tone: ’It’s time, darling.’

Lan Yue pressed a hand to her face, shaking her head. No, no, stop it. Don’t simp for the boss. Still she wished she could be as cool as her, ah.

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