There's a strange line my father once told me when I was nine. I never understood its meaning, nor did I care to—my life back then hadn't yet turned bitter. To understand it now, I must remember who I was: Wu Zeitan, a simple girl with a simple heart. What could possibly go wrong in a child's life?
But perhaps the heavens held other plans. Just a year after I turned nine, my father—Wu Shiyue —died under mysterious circumstances. He was a man of honor, known for his achievements and his unwavering support for my mother, Lady Yang, both in politics and in life. Yet after his death, the world turned cruel.
My mother became a shadow of herself, mocked and harassed by the very family my father came from. His relatives stripped her of dignity, forcing her at times to sleep outside the chambers because my grandmother refused to see her face. "It's your fault he died," she spat, as if her grief gave her permission to be cruel. But I never believed it. I never will.
.
As time passed, the disrespect toward my mother only deepened. The house that once echoed with laughter turned sharp and cruel, its people growing monstrous—first toward her, and then toward me. My mother, once graceful and proud, slowly began to crumble beneath their weight. And when I was eleven, she made a decision as cold as winter steel.
I remember the day with painful clarity—the sting of it etched into my bones. I had tripped, just a simple stumble, and shattered an old glass jar. It held no value, but my mistake was unforgivable. Without warning, she struck me—again and again—until I could no longer breathe without pain. And then, in a voice void of warmth, she whispered, "Send her to the palace. Let her serve as a maid. From today I declare Wu Zeitan no longer daughter of Lady Yang "
She—turned her head away from me. As she is walking away from a burden that was kept for long.
I trembled, but I did not cry. I did not scream. I did not plead. Fear clung to me like a second skin, silent and suffocating. What could an eleven-year-old girl say when her own mother declared her a stranger?
The servants gripped my arms tightly as I struggled, desperate to free myself—not just from their hands, but from the fate that awaited me. I didn't want to serve. I didn't want to suffer. I just wanted to be free.
.
Not long after, I was cast out from the only home I had ever known—the place where I once belonged. Memories haunted me like ghosts: Father's gentle hands combing my hair, Mother bustling about as she prepared for the New Year festival. A time when everything felt whole… perfect. But that life is gone now—buried in silence.
How do people become so cruel, so monstrous, in the blink of an eye? How do they turn their backs on the ones they once vowed to love? How does life shift so suddenly, without warning, without mercy?
I wandered through the cold night, wrapped in mist and abandonment, the last traces of my mother's warmth fading into shadows. And still, my heart clung to a foolish hope—to the house where I once felt safe, where love had lived.
Maybe, someday, I will return.
Maybe, someday, the ones I've lost will come back.
Maybe… someday...
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