Six months had passed since Yin Yue (Lingxi) entered Consort Yan Zhen's residence.
Time did not rush her transformation. It worked slowly, deliberately, as though testing whether she deserved the changes it offered. The hunger that once hollowed her frame had loosened its grip, replaced by steady meals and a predictable routine. Though the food was plain, it was enough—enough to let her body remember what it meant to grow.
Her waist had slimmed into a smooth, elegant line, no longer sharp or brittle. When she bent to scrub the stone paths of the residence courtyard or knelt to tend the garden beds, the curve of her figure revealed itself unintentionally. Her hips had softened, her legs grown firm with strength earned through repetition. The calves beneath her skirts were rounded now, shaped by long hours of walking, carrying water, kneeling, and standing.
Her chest had changed as well.
Her breasts, once flat from deprivation, had grown plump with youth and nourishment. They were not exaggerated, but undeniably present—filling the plain servant garments in a way that suggested quiet promise rather than bold allure. Anyone who looked long enough could tell that if she were fed well, dressed well, treated gently, she would become striking.
Her skin had transformed the most.
Once dull and coarse, it was now fair and smooth, carrying a soft sheen even without oils or powders. Working beneath open air rather than smoke-dark kitchens had allowed her complexion to clear. Her rare red hair—so uncommon it could not be hidden no matter how tightly she tied it—had grown thick and glossy. When sunlight brushed it, the strands gleamed faintly, like polished copper. It framed her face delicately, softening her features without effort.
Yin Yue (Lingxi) did not admire herself.
She noticed only practical things.
Her hands no longer trembled when lifting buckets.
Her knees no longer burned when kneeling.
Her breath no longer came sharp and shallow after work.
That was enough.
Her days followed a precise rhythm inside the residence.
Before dawn, she swept the inner walkways, careful not to disturb the silence. After that came the garden—watering young shoots, loosening compacted soil, trimming dead leaves, wiping dust from decorative stones. Later, she cleaned railings, polished wooden surfaces, wiped carved panels, and answered whatever small orders came her way.
She spoke only when spoken to.
She did her work thoroughly.
She kept her eyes lowered.
Authority within the residence rested with three senior servants.
Madam Lian governed the residence's internal order with calm severity. Her disappointment alone was enough to silence a room. Eunuch Wei Jun handled discipline and external matters, his gaze unreadable and his voice rarely raised. Then there was Xiao Lan—close to Yin Yue (Lingxi) in age, yet standing above her in rank—entrusted with many daily arrangements beneath Madam Lian's direction.
Alongside Yin Yue (Lingxi) were three other girls, assigned to the residence at the same time she was.
At first, there had been nothing.
No open hostility.
No direct conflict.
Then came the murmurs.
"She's grown quite well."
"Her skin looks better than ours."
"For someone so quiet…"
They never said these things to her face. They spoke when they believed she was too focused on her duties to hear.
She heard enough.
She ignored it.
Xiao Lan did not.
Xiao Lan noticed how Madam Lian rarely corrected Yin Yue (Lingxi)'s work. How Eunuch Wei Jun passed by without stopping her. How tasks assigned to her were completed without delay or complaint.
That quiet competence irritated her more than arrogance ever could.
Xiao Lan began adjusting Yin Yue (Lingxi)'s duties.
At first, subtly.
Extra garden plots added without notice.
Cleaning routes lengthened.
Tasks meant for two reassigned to one.
Xiao Lan timed her inspections carefully, arriving when Yin Yue (Lingxi)'s hands were still wet or her breathing had not yet settled. She pointed out imagined flaws—dust that had already been cleared, leaves that had fallen moments earlier.
Yin Yue (Lingxi) accepted everything.
She woke earlier.
She moved faster.
She rested less.
She never argued.
That silence only sharpened Xiao Lan's resentment.
The real trouble came on an ordinary afternoon.
Xiao Lan deliberately delayed Yin Yue (Lingxi)'s access to cleaning tools. By the time she reached the stone paths of the residence courtyard, the sun had already dried dust into the cracks. Yin Yue (Lingxi) scrubbed until her fingers ached, but faint residue remained.
When Madam Lian later passed through, her gaze paused.
Before Yin Yue (Lingxi) could speak, Xiao Lan stepped forward.
"She may have rushed," Xiao Lan said lightly.
The implication lingered.
Yin Yue (Lingxi) was reprimanded calmly and ordered to kneel in the courtyard that evening, arms raised, for the duration of one burning incense stick.
As soon as the order was given, the laughter began.
Immediately.
"So careless."
"She deserves it."
"Always pretending to be better."
Xiao Lan did not laugh loudly,Xiao Lan met her eyes briefly she smiled,There was no triumph there.
Only satisfaction.
Yin Yue (Lingxi) knelt where she was told. Her knees pressed against cold stone. Her arms trembled as she lifted them. The incense burned slowly, each breath heavier than the last.
She did not cry.
She did not beg.
When the punishment ended, her limbs felt distant, as though they belonged to someone else.
She returned to the shared room stiffly.
The laughter resumed the moment she entered.
The three girls leaned openly against their beds now.
"Look at her hands."
"She thought she was special."
"This is what happens when you forget your place."
Yin Yue (Lingxi) said nothing.
She washed her hands slowly, dried them, and lay down.
Her body ached deeply.
Her thoughts were clear.
Why do I always attract trouble?
She had not sought attention.
She had not competed.
She had only worked.
Perhaps diligence itself was a provocation.
Perhaps survival invited resentment.
Turning to her side, Yin Yue (Lingxi) exhaled quietly.
This is life. Endure it.
The laughter faded.
Sleep came.
Within Consort Yan Zhen's residence, beneath quiet walls and watchful eyes, Yin Yue (Lingxi) remained steady, unseen, and entirely alone.