The stars gleamed and sparkled, scattered like a splendid brocade across the boundless night sky. Some dense, some sparse—like an exquisite tapestry. The night breeze gently stirred, cooling the heart to its core. The moon jasmine swayed gracefully beneath the beautiful heavens, releasing its fragrant breath. The white bed curtains were lifted by the window’s wind, fluttering like waves rippling in a gentle sea. On the bed, the child’s lashes dipped slightly, her lips curved in a soft smile. Her small chest rose and fell gently, asleep in sweet peace. “Thump-thump-thump…” Suddenly, a loud knocking came from outside the courtyard. “Open the door! Open the door!” The sleeper instantly stirred—her eyes snapped open, bright with alertness, no longer the peaceful, dreamy gaze of one just awakened. “Creak—” Cold Wanying heard the sound of the bedroom door opening and assumed it was the naynai going out to check on things. Her small brow furrowed—so late at night, such a disturbance—and she sensed something formidable was approaching. A faint, cold smile curled her lips as she silently observed. With agile movement, she leapt from the bed, fastened her outer robe by the bedside, and stepped out without delay. The naynai opened the courtyard gate to find the Lady General standing outside. Her face was pale, lit with starlight in an eerie glow. Behind her marched a large group of servants, all bearing stern expressions. Startled, the naynai bowed respectfully and asked gently: “Your grace, I didn’t expect you here so late at night—what brings you to our home?” “Where is that little scamp?” The Lady General surveyed the naynai with a cold gaze. It was precisely because of this overly concerned woman’s protection that the young girl had survived thus far. Her resentment simmered within her, and she glared sharply at her. The naynai pressed down the frustration she felt toward the general for repeatedly scolding the young lady, and responded calmly: “Madam, the mistress has already retired to rest.” “Then indeed,” the Lady General said with utter disdain, her voice rising, “that little scamp must be a genuine nuisance. She frightened my daughter, Moon-qi, into illness—yet she still manages to sleep through it all! Take her and bring her out here now.” With a wave of her hand, she commanded one of the servants. “Wait!” The naynai stepped forward, arms spread wide, heart racing in anxious urgency. “Madam, the young lady is also the daughter of the general—how can you treat her thus?” Her eyes held steady despite trembling with fear. During the day, when the young mistress had used fire to encircle all the elder daughters, she knew disaster was near. Yet no matter what, she would protect this girl—the one born without a mother and constantly overlooked by her father. “Rebellious,” the Lady General snapped, her eyebrows furrowed. With slender fingers tipped in jade rings—glinting under starlight—she pointed at the naynai with cold authority. “A mere servant dares to rebuke me? Go ahead—have them give this lady a sound beating.” “Who dares?” A soft, childlike voice answered—but carried an undeniable strength. It was none other than Cold Wanying. “Madam,” the naynai hurried to step forward, “it’s so late and the night is cool—how did you come out?” “It’s all right,” Wanying smiled warmly at the naynai, yet her gaze toward the Lady General was frosty, radiating a sense of quiet power. Her long black hair spilled casually over her shoulders; her white gown fluttered in the night wind. Her feet were bare, one strap still tied on each shoe, and her eyes—clear as midnight—held an air of serene command. How could this child of three resemble such a young lady? The presence of authority seemed entirely rooted in her own spirit—no mere infant at all. Indeed, it was true that the girl born lowly had inherited her mother’s very nature. “Then you are the little scamp?” Wanying lazily raised one eyebrow, and with a dismissive gesture, declared plainly. “You truly have your mother’s grace.” “You’re the little scamp!” The Lady General answered hotly, furiously addressing her to the young girl, barely reaching the height of the child’s shoulders. To see such a noble lady of rank become furious at a child—how utterly humiliating! “Oh,” Wanying patted her ears gently, as if catching something she had just heard. “I’ve been listening. You’re indeed the little scamp.” “Ahh!” The naynai laughed again—she had never imagined such a refined tone from the young mistress before. “You—you…” The Lady General trembled with indignation, now being treated in much the same way as her daughter. “You not only frightened my daughter, but you’re also making excuses right here! I shall surely settle this matter with you tonight!” “Has Moon-qi truly passed away?” Wanying asked softly, with a quiet smile. “Indeed, it seems you’ve gathered enough guilt to meet the spirits of justice.” “Pah—pah—pah!” The Lady General gestured sharply at Wanying, her face flushed. “You scold our Moon-qi every day! The one who should go to the afterlife is *you*! You ought to be the one reporting to the gods with your mother’s ghost!” “Crack!” A deep resonance surged within Wanying—her heart seemed torn asunder. Her dark, lustrous eyes—once like black jade now—reflected a cold radiance, as though frozen in time. Her hair streamed gently behind her, her face expressionless, serene yet commanding—a figure of a wrathful bodhisattva. “What is it?” The Lady General swallowed hard, surprised by the depth of Wanying’s presence. “Is there something wrong with what I said? Your mother was merely an ordinary servant—how could she ever hope to rise into this noble status? Even a sparrow dreams of becoming a phoenix!” “Hmph,” Wanying chuckled with quiet irony. “I am truly furious—and the consequences are already unfolding.” “What?” The Lady General stared, bewildered. What exactly did this young girl mean? “I heard that my mother was poisoned,” Wanying said steadily, her gaze locked on the general’s face, her tone now icy. “Shouldn’t a daughter rise to honor and repay her mother's memory through justice?” “You—” The Lady General stepped back, her sense of panic rising visibly. Indeed—the girl had come not merely for courtesy, but with an intent to seek justice. It was surely the spirit of Xiaolian that had awakened within her! Her body trembled—coldness surged from her feet upward, like a current flowing through every vein. The brilliant stars above seemed now transformed into the gentle yet sorrowful face of Xiaolian—was she here not merely for honor, but to claim her life? Wanying watched the stunned general with growing appreciation. She had only come to test whether this was truly a matter of spirit interference—but now it turned out that the very cause of the young girl’s mother's death had been laid bare. The true depth of her resolve now shone through. “What do you intend?” The Lady General asked, pointing at Wanying, whose step-beads trembled slightly beneath her feet. “Revenge,” Wanying replied simply, her eyes ice-cold—frozen like a deep winter’s lake. “Those who once wronged us and claimed my mother's life—I will not let them go without justice.” For I am no ordinary girl—I am a true fairy spirit. With that, a swift motion of her hand—like the snap of a bowstring—and a beam of golden light shot toward the general. A sharp hiss sounded as it pierced through the air, and soon burned away half of the hair on the Lady General’s forehead. “Ahhh!” The general stood frozen in place, utterly speechless. “Madam,” the servants gasped—each one staring in stunned awe at what had just transpired. “How does it feel?” Wanyin smiled faintly, her lips curled with quiet amusement. “To have your hair burned? What a sensation!” “You—” The Lady General was furious now, her dignity crumbling. “You are nothing but a demon! I shall immediately inform the general—have you removed from our household!” “By all means,” Wanying replied simply, waving her hand with elegant dismissal. She had also longed to meet that very person—the one who once crushed the hopes of the nation’s brightest blooms, then left her daughter neglected after her own passing. “I shall see you off now,” said the Lady General, dismissing herself with a wave of her sleeve. The servants followed behind, silently anticipating tomorrow’s news—how the young Miss Wanying from the northern courtyard would be revealed not merely as a spirited girl, but as one who wielded true magic. The naynai watched closely—the young mistress had only seemed to tease the general, yet she sensed that the real challenge lay in the long, quiet trials that would unfold—how much more profound than mere playful gestures! A cat playing with a mouse indeed—a most engaging game. Her eyes half-closed, her gaze steady, thoughtful of what was to come. The bustling night finally settled into stillness. The wind whispered gently; the stars blinked softly like sleepy eyes; the moon jasmine swayed in rhythm—time itself seemed to breathe quietly beneath the quiet sky.