The stars shimmered brilliantly, embedded like jewels upon the boundless night sky—dense or sparse, resembling a magnificent tapestry. The night breeze swept in, cool and invigorating. The peonies danced gracefully beneath the beautiful starry heavens, releasing their fragrant breath. The white bed curtains, fluttered gently by the outdoor wind, as if waves were gently rolling. The person lying on the bed had their eyelashes slightly lowered and a gentle smile at the corners of their mouth. Their small chest rose and fell softly, asleep in deep contentment. Her face was cold, the starlight casting an eerie glow upon it. Behind her stood a large group of servants, all looking fierce and threatening. The nursemaid was startled, clearly recalling something from the daytime. She immediately bowed gracefully and asked politely, "Good evening, Madam. I wonder what brings you here at such a late hour?" "Where is that little scamp?" Mu Zhaoyun glanced coldly at the nursemaid—this overly attentive old woman had been the one protecting the little scamp thus far. A surge of resentment welled up inside her, and she glared at her. The nursemaid, though trying hard to suppress her own irritation at Mu Zhaoyun's constant complaints about the young lady, spoke calmly, "Madam, the lady has already gone to sleep." "Indeed, a scamp," Mu Zhaoyun said, her expression full of disdain, and raised her voice. "That little scamp has frightened my Moon into illness—yet she still manages to sleep! Go and drag her out right now." She waved her hand to the servants behind her, giving the order. "Wait—!" The nursemaid spread her arms to block the servants, her heart racing. " Her eyes pressed firmly against fear, gazing steadily at Mu Zhao Yun, though her heart pounded wildly. During the day, when the lady used fire to encircle the senior ladies, she had already sensed that trouble was brewing. Yet no matter what, she would protect the young lady—born without a mother and consistently overlooked by her father. "Reversed, you!" Mu Zhao Yun glared at the nursemaid, her willowy brows furrowed. With delicate fingers tipped in jade, she pointed at her, the jade rings on her fingers gleaming brilliantly under the starlight, yet carrying a cool, firm tone. "A mere servant like you dares to scold me, the lady of the household? Bring someone! Give her a sound spanking!" "Who dares?" The soft, childlike voice carried an undeniable strength—no one else could match it. "Miss," the nursemaid hurried forward, "it's getting cool at night. How come you're out here?" "Madam," said Cold Bwan, offering the nursemaid a warm, sweet smile, yet her gaze toward Mu Zhao Yun and the others was cold enough to send shivers down the spine. "You're the one—this little scion Muzhao Yun felt momentarily weak when Lingwanwan glared at her, yet straightened her posture and returned the gaze. The girl’s black hair, like ink, was casually draped over her small shoulders. Her white robe and skirt swayed gently with the night breeze. Her small feet, still tucked into her shoes, exuded a lazy, languid grace, and her eyes—like those of a midnight hour—held a cool, composed intensity. She certainly did not seem like a child of three. Her bearing was that of a general—indeed, a true descendant of the lowly maid. Muzhao Yun was furious, itching to give this young upstart a solid slap. The peacock gives birth to a peacock chick, and thus the very trait that Lady Ling had once disliked was inherited. "Little scamp, call me!" Mu Zhao Yun replied angrily, her noble general's lady, furious at a child barely reaching her knee, looked utterly comical. "Oh, so you're calling me the little scamp?" Cold Wanyuan gently patted her ears. "I heard you. You are indeed the little scamp, aren't you?" "Pfft!" The nursewoman chuckled, never having imagined that the lady would be so polished in her scolding. "You—!" Poor Mu Zhao Yun, just as her daughter had been, was completely washed away by Cold Wanyuan. "Not only did you scare our Ling, but you also stand here, making excuses and playing the part of the innocent. Today, I shall not rest until I've dealt with you!" "Did Lady Cold faint?" Cold Wanyuan smiled faintly. "Indeed, she must have accumulated so many guilty moments that she has now met her fate." “Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!” Mu Zhaoyun gestured wildly at Ling Wanwan, exclaiming, “You this lowly girl, stop your constant curses against our Yue'er! The one who should report to Yama’s court is *you*—you’re the one who should go and compensate your dead, old mother!” Crack— Ling Wanwan felt as though a string within her heart snapped, radiating an icy aura. Her once-luminous, black-jewel eyes, now like ancient glaciers, chilled everyone around. Her hair, slightly disheveled, fluttered in the breeze; her refined features remained expressionless—she seemed like a Shura, a wrathful deity. “Did I say something wrong?” Mu Zhaoyun wiped her throat, puzzled. How could this lowly girl appear so terrifying? “Your mother was always a low-ranking maid—how could she possibly aspire to become a general’s wife? A sparrow dreaming of becoming a phoenix!” “Hah!” Ling Wanwan smiled with a sly air. “I’m quite furious now—consequences are far from minor.” “What? What?” Mu Zhaoyun looked utterly bewildered. What on "Lin Wangwan fixed her gaze on Mu Zhao Yun, her smile cold and sharp. 'Should a child of the household seek vengeance for their mother?' 'You—'" Mu Zhao Yun stepped back, her fear finally breaking through. She *was* here to avenge her mother—definitely Xiao Lian, her spirit must be playing tricks on her. Her body trembling all over, a coldness surged from her soles up through her limbs. The brilliant stars above seemed to melt into Xiao Lian’s pale, sorrowful face—was she here to claim her life? The servants stared at the short, slender young lady, feeling uneasy. During the day, it had been whispered that the lady was no longer the same—she had been possessed by spirits. They had doubted it at first, but now, with her so cold and otherworldly, how could they still believe she was once timid and unloved? Indeed, she must be truly possessed. Without realizing it, they all stepped back. If she were frightened, the lady would truly be in serious trouble. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead as she clutched cold Wanyan tightly. "What—what do you intend to do?" Mu Zhaoyun pointed at Cold Wanyan, her hair ornament trembling. "What do I want? I want revenge." Cold Wanyan released the nannies' hand, her gaze icy, as cold as three feet of ice. "Those who used to bully us and took my mother's life—I won't let one of them go unpunished." Am I not the little fairy-maid, then? As she spoke, a swift flash—Cold Wanyan flicked her finger, and a beam of fire shot toward Mu Zhaoyun. A sharp hiss, and Mu Zhaoyun's several locks of hair at the forehead were scorched halfway off. "Ah—!" Mu Zhaoyun stood stunned, motionless. "Madam," all the servants were startled, staring, unsure of what to do. "How is it?" Cold Wanyan arched her lips, smiling faintly. "How does it feel to have your hair burned?" "You—!" Mu Z "Go on," Cold Wanyan gave a small, graceful甩 of her hand, radiating an air of "come and try, if you dare." She'd also long wanted to meet the man who had devastated her nation's blossoms—only to neglect her daughter after her own passing. "Hmph. Let's go," said Mu Zhaoyun, growing impatient as Wanyan remained unyielding. With a sweeping gesture of her sleeve, she strode off, followed by a group of servants. Surely, everyone would soon know that the young lady of Bei Yuan was no ordinary girl, but a true fairy with magical prowess.