The city lights dimmed one by one as carriages rolled away from the showcase.
By the time Mei Lian and her family returned home, the moon had risen — a pale silver coin floating over the dark roofs of the Minister's estate.
The house was quiet. The laughter of the day still lingered faintly in her heart.
She dismissed the servants and entered her chamber. The fragrance of lotus candles filled the air, soft and faint.
Her fingers undid the silk ribbon of her robe as she stepped behind the screen, the warm water already waiting.
Steam rose in gentle curls. She slipped into the bath, closing her eyes.
The warmth eased her muscles, but her mind refused to rest — flashes of the day kept drifting through her thoughts.
The applause for her brother.
The smiles of the noblewomen.
The apothecary stall and the memory of her grandfather's voice.
> "Healing hands are blessings, Lian'er — but only if you use them."
Her chest tightened. She sank a little deeper into the water, the candlelight dancing on her face.
In her past life, she had despised that gentle wisdom. She wanted power, admiration, and royal silk — not herbs and bandages.
But now, all that ambition had turned to ash.
If I had listened to him, she thought, maybe I could have saved my daughter… maybe even myself.
When she finally stepped out, the water had cooled. She dressed in a light night robe and moved toward her wardrobe.
---
In the back corner, hidden beneath layers of folded fabric and unused boxes, her hand brushed against something rough — a bundle wrapped in faded linen.
Her heart skipped.
She pulled it out.
It was a book — old, worn, its edges soft from years of use. The cover bore her grandfather's handwriting, elegant and steady:
> "Medical Notes of Hua Jing — Volume I."
Dust clung to the pages. She brushed it off gently with her sleeve, as if touching something sacred.
Carrying it to her table, she lit an extra candle and sat down. The pages smelled faintly of herbs.
Diagrams of the human body, sketches of plants, notes written in her grandfather's hand filled each page.
Her eyes moved over the familiar words, and the past seemed to come alive again.
> 'When the pulse is weak, the heart grieves.'
'To heal the body, first understand the spirit.'
She turned each page slowly, tracing the characters with her fingertips.
How many nights had she ignored this book before?
How many chances had she thrown away because she wanted to be admired instead of useful?
The flame flickered, and her shadow moved softly across the paper.
She read deep into the night, memorizing herbs, pulse rhythms, pressure points — every detail her grandfather once taught her.
When her eyes grew heavy, she leaned her head against her arm, still over the open book.
The candle burned low.
Sleep took her quietly — a gentle drift into dreams scented with herbs and spring rain.
---
Morning light spilled into the room.
A soft knock broke the silence.
Then a familiar, gentle voice spoke through the door, half-playful, half-scolding.
"Young Miss, are you awake? You promised to rest early, yet your candles were burning all night again."
Mei Lian stirred, opening her eyes.
At the doorway stood Xiu Mei, her personal maid since childhood — bright-eyed, loyal, and sharp-tongued enough to speak her mind.
Mei Lian rubbed her eyes and smiled softly. "Come in, Xiu Mei."
The maid stepped inside, holding a folded letter. "You look tired again. Don't tell me you were reading those dusty old medical scrolls your grandfather left?"
Mei Lian closed the book gently, tying its linen string. "Perhaps I was."
Xiu Mei sighed, shaking her head. "Young Miss, you're strange lately. But it suits you. You seem… calmer."
Before Mei Lian could answer, the maid held out the letter. "A message came early this morning. From the Lady An residence."
Mei Lian's brows lifted slightly. "From Lady An?"
"Yes," Xiu Mei said with a smile. "Her attendants said the future Empress will be visiting you herself after breakfast."
For a moment, Mei Lian was silent. Then her lips curved faintly.
"Ruo'er is coming here? It's rare for her to leave her estate this early."
"She said she wants to speak to you personally."
Mei Lian nodded slowly, tying her sash as she rose. "Prepare tea and my pale blue robe — the one my brother designed."
"As you wish," Xiu Mei said, bowing before hurrying off.
---
When Mei Lian was alone again, she glanced down at the medical book still open on her table.
She traced her grandfather's name with a soft smile.
Then, closing it carefully, she whispered, "Thank you for not giving up on me, Grandfather. This time, I won't give up on your teachings."
Outside, morning sunlight touched the lotus pond.
The day began anew — calm, golden, deceptively peaceful.
But in the air, fate was already stirring again.