C2 She Blossomed Her Beauty

September's autumn rain brought a slight chill, and the sound of raindrops pattered in the courtyard. The room was dimly lit, and the person lying on the bed slowly opened her eyes, her mind a bit foggy.

She gazed at the blue and white porcelain incense burner on the table in front of her. The incense had long burned out, leaving only a faint, lingering fragrance. That incense burner was part of her mother's dowry, brought along when she married into the Moo family, but it had been accidentally broken.

There was also a double-sided embroidered screen her mother left her. She had intended to include it in her dowry, but Mrs. Lau, her stepmother, advised against it, saying it was too cumbersome to move. Less than two months after her marriage, when she returned, the screen was gone. Mrs. Lau explained that it had been damaged by mice and insects due to poor storage.

At the time, she was heartbroken but didn't dare voice any complaints. She had already scanned the room's furnishings several times, yet she continued to look around greedily, not daring to blink. For a moment, she couldn't tell if she was dreaming of a butterfly or if the butterfly was dreaming of her. She was certain she had died...

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a slender figure entered. She turned her head to look and instinctively called out, "Baixiang."

As the name was spoken, her throat tightened slightly, and her eyes grew misty. Baixiang hurried over, her voice youthful yet full of concern, "Miss, you're awake? Why are you crying? Today is the Old Matriarch's sixtieth birthday. You can't go with red eyes, or Mrs. Zhou will have something to say."

Mrs. Zhou, her aunt, was known for her sharp tongue. Baixiang clumsily wiped her face, while Lan Qingjia seemed a bit dazed. She stopped her tears, her voice hoarse, "Is today Grandmother's sixtieth birthday?"

Baixiang looked at her with worry, "Yes, Miss. Did you have a nightmare? How could you forget something so important?"

Lan Qingjia dug her nails deeply into her palms, leaving marks that stung sharply. Yet, amidst the pain, she laughed—a laugh that was both bitter and sorrowful. Eventually, that laughter turned into tears, cool and soothing as they ran down her face.

She seemed almost possessed, caught between anger and sorrow, laughter and tears. Her eyes filled with grief one moment, then wild joy the next—a joy so intense it felt like walking on clouds or sinking into a warm spring, comforting yet exhilarating, as if she had found some incredible treasure.

She's back, she's really back! Is this a miracle?

Baixiang was visibly shaken, "Miss, what's wrong? Please, don't scare me like this!"

Lan Qingjia slowly wiped her tears away, her voice still hoarse but gentle and calm, "I'm fine, I really am."

She had worked so hard to come back; how could anything happen to her now?

Lan Qingjia straightened her back, wiped the tears from her face, and spoke with a steady voice, "Help me get ready."

Baixiang looked at her with worry and doubt, but seeing her mistress regain her composure, she said nothing more and quickly helped her wash and change.

Baixiang picked out a plain white dress for Lan Qingjia, but Lan Qingjia gently stopped her.

It was the Old Matriarch's birthday, a day of celebration, and wearing plain white was considered unlucky.

Baixiang knew this too, but her face showed nothing but helplessness.

"Miss, all your clothes are in muted colors."

Lan Qingjia fell silent.

In her past life, she had lived timidly. Though she secretly loved bright colors, she always chose muted tones to avoid drawing attention. Now, she didn't even have a suitable dress for a birthday celebration.

Baixiang couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. She was the eldest daughter, yet she was kidnapped as a child and endured countless hardships. Finally returning home, she still had to live a difficult life.

Lan Qingjia had grown numb to these injustices. She picked the finest fabric among them and spread the garment out on the bed. Then, under Baixiang's astonished gaze, she took a paintbrush and, with swift strokes, a beautiful flower bloomed on the once plain white silk.

The design was simple, yet the flower seemed almost alive, transforming the previously dull garment into something strikingly different, catching everyone's eye. Baixiang's eyes widened in shock, but Lan Qingjia just gave a faint smile, tinged with a hint of bitterness.

She excelled in painting, her talent exceptional. Yet, when attending school with her sisters, she had to hide her skills, always appearing mediocre, never daring to stand out. This time, she decided she wouldn't hide anymore. She wanted to let her talents shine, little by little.

What's the best revenge against an enemy? It's shattering everything they hold dear. Didn't Lan Qingwan always pride herself on being a talented woman? Lan Qingjia would make her look like a fool, watching as her pride and dignity crumbled to pieces...

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