On the wooden lattice window, a small figure sat atop it, her short legs bent and swaying gently from side to side. She tilted her face upward, half-closing her bright eyes. The sunlight poured down, casting delicate shadows across her cheeks from her long lashes. Watching her leisurely enjoying the scene, one couldn’t help but laugh aloud—how could such a simple pleasure stir so much delight? And what thoughts stirred within those half-lidded eyes? From afar, the nursemaid watched as the young lady climbed back up onto the window frame. Sunlight fell upon her form, gilding her like a fairy stepped out of a painting—so graceful and radiant that one felt compelled to honor her presence. “Nursemaid,” said Lingwan, waving her small hand toward the distant figure. “Oh dear! Be careful now, my lady!” The nursemaid cried out as she watched the girl swaying, hands in motion, legs kicking—the window was no less than three or four times the height of a young lady from the ground. Her heart pounded with each passing second; she hurried to intercept Lingwan’s approach. Seeing the nursemaid’s anxious expression, Lingwan smiled softly at her corner of the room. After all, what was this height? She only needed to wave her silver bell—its delicate chime rang clear and bright. As soon as the nursemaid reached beneath the window frame, Lingwan gently leaped down. Her movement was light and effortless—but it nearly startled the nursemaid into illness with its force. The nursemaid extended both arms to catch the small figure; the impact sent her several steps backward. Then she bowed her head, gazing at the child in her arms, only to find Lingwan blinking innocently. The nursemaid sighed—how could this young lady be so unaccountable? Once upon a time, Lingwan had been frail and timid, often weeping when slighted. But since just months ago, after she awakened from her illness, she seemed entirely transformed—her body now strong through vigorous exercises, her spirit more elusive than ever. When playful, one could scarcely contain amusement; yet at other times, she held a quiet dignity that even the nursemaid found unnerving. “What are you thinking of?” Lingwan reached out with soft hands, pulling gently at the nursemaid’s sleeve. Her dark, bright eyes fixed on her, as if able to read every secret in her mind. “N-nothing,” said the nursemaid, startled by the clarity of those pools of liquid blackness—how could this young girl seem so capable of seeing straight through her thoughts? “Oh?” Lingwan lowered her gaze slightly and then smiled gently, a faint blush forming on her cheeks, revealing gentle ripples in her soft lips. “Nursemaid, I’m hungry.” What could she possibly be thinking about? Lingwan surely knew—after all, she had changed so much from the once timid girl of old. Perhaps one day, even the nursemaid would come to accept this new version of herself. “Very well,” said the nursemaid, her own lips curling into a smile at Lingwan’s sweet expression. Clearly, she had overthought—how could such a small child possibly perceive others’ innermost thoughts? Shaking her head, she thought it over. “Miss Senior, that’s here.” Even before the nursemaid had time to hurry off toward the kitchen, a commotion and sound of footsteps reached them. “Miss Senior?” Lingwan, nestled in the nursemaid’s arms, smiled faintly—half-arched, half-teasing. Ah yes! There she was—the very delicate peacock who always needed to be courted. Just when Lingwan had grown bored with waiting, here came someone to bring a little entertainment of her own. “Ah, trouble! It’s Miss Senior!” The nursemaid instantly stiffened—though she didn’t know why Miss Senior had come at this particular moment, the reputation of Miss Senior in the household was well-known: she never came for good reasons. Now that she’d arrived, she had no intention of being kind. Holding Lingwan securely in her arms, the nursemaid hesitated whether to hide her from view entirely. “No time now,” said Lingwan, smiling slightly and gently swaying her silver bell—its chimes ringing with every movement. “Indeed it is you.” With a group of servants and maids trailing behind her, Lingyan entered the room. Today she wore a double braid at both sides of her head, several loose strands hanging down her temples, each side adorned with white jade floral headpieces. A cascade of colorful beads draped across her forehead. Her dress was a light yellow floral robe and skirt, and her feet were delicately fitted in white embroidered shoes. Her face carried an air of self-assurance, truly resembling the image of a proud peacock. Lingwan’s large, clear eyes swept over her once—how could this young girl be so unimpressed by such grandeur? Compared to Miss Senior’s arrival with full entourage, it seemed almost inconvenient. Lingwan had always been capable of standing alone and commanding attention even before the journey; now she felt overshadowed by such elaborate showmanship. Lingwan paid no attention to Miss Senior’s words—yet the nursemaid was deeply alarmed. She had feared Miss Senior would be unfriendly, but never imagined that Miss Senior would come straight to Lingwan. What could possibly have happened between them? Her heart fluttered with urgency; she quickly set Lingwan down on the floor. Bowing slightly, she greeted: “Miss Senior.” Lingwan’s eyes narrowed—how dare this child so much younger than herself treat her in such a manner! Before she could even speak, the nursemaid had arrived. Her fine brows lifted, and she fixed her gaze upon the servant. “And who exactly are you?” “I am the nursemaid of Miss Lingwan,” replied the nursemaid. “Miss Lingwan? But where did that title come from?” Lingyan furrowed her delicate brows—her mother had only three children: an elder brother, herself, and a younger brother; all other concubines had borne no offspring. “Ah yes, Miss Lingwan,” said the nursemaid softly, though inside she felt deeply moved by this injustice. Though both were daughters of the general, Miss Senior was well-nurtured with fine clothes and constant favor—while Miss Lingwan, even though equally noble in birth, remained overlooked and often treated as a mere attendant. “Indeed, how is that possible?” Lingyan scoffed. She had heard her mother mention that Miss Lingwan was born to a low-ranking maid—the very servant who, when the father was drunk, had managed to earn the name ‘Lingwan’—what dignity could there be in such an origin? “Miss Senior,” said the nursemaid, though still trembling beneath her breath, “Miss Lingwan is your younger sister.” “Unbelievable!” The attendant, Qiutang—a seventeen-year-old girl—stepped forward. Used to being treated as superior due to her close relationship with Miss Senior, she often looked down upon other servants who were more gentle in demeanor. “Hmph! Can this lowly maid possibly stand equal to a lady of such grace?” “Yet no matter how you look at it, Miss Lingwan is your superior—your very own mistress,” countered the nursemaid. After serving in the household for over ten years, she had never before been challenged by such a young servant. And now, even worse—the very term ‘low-born’ was being used to describe Miss Lingwan! Her indignation surged within her; she no longer hesitated—her voice grew firm as she responded with calm clarity. “Miss Senior—” Qiutang’s face flushed red from embarrassment. She had always considered herself one of the top attendants, yet here she stood, silenced and pleading for support from Miss Senior. Behind them, the servants and maids watched Qiutang’s rising color and silently smiled—they thought it only fair; after all, how proud could she be when her status relied solely on being a personal attendant to Miss Senior? And yet, she often acted with authority over others in front of their very eyes. “Your boldness truly astonishes me,” said Lingyan, her brows drawing into a sharp arc. Even when confronting a servant, one must always follow the hierarchy—though Qiutang was only a junior attendant, she held an intimate role as Miss Senior’s personal companion. This elderly nursemaid, though a mere steward of a lowly origin, dared to command her directly in front of Miss Senior’s very face. How could such a gesture be considered respectful? Clearly, the nursemaid no longer saw her as worthy of recognition—nor did she respect her presence. Her indignation surged within, glowing like flames beneath her eyes—she would not rest until she firmly reminded everyone who held true authority. “Attendants! Give her a good scolding!” Ever since Lingwan had been set down, she stood silently by the side, watching with narrowed brows and a perfectly straight posture. The very air of superiority that Miss Senior maintained toward the nursemaid caused her two delicate eyebrows to curl into tight spirals—her expression stiffened beyond measure. She didn’t care if Miss Senior acknowledged her status as a junior lady; for her, every title held equal value. But she would not allow anyone to act with disregard—especially not someone who dared to harm her very nursemaid. Far from being the child once shaped and molded at will, Lingwan now stood firm—those who treated her lightly would now face serious consequences. With a cool, commanding lift of her brow, her petite frame moved swiftly through the room like a gust of wind. “Crash!” A crisp sound rang out—a sharp, clear crack that silenced everyone in the room.