She couldn’t even see him.  She couldn’t reveal her identity, fearing the consequences:  ruined reputation leading to suicide, or being burned as a monster.

Ding Huanhua, still with her gentle, smiling demeanor, refused to move:  “Besides, miss, you are so beautiful… just like the famous actress Wenxiang from the theater district. Who wouldn’t like you?”  She compared Lin Zhaoxue to an actress, highlighting her concubine status, revealing a woman’s instinctive hostility.

Was she humiliated? No, Lin Zhaoxue didn’t have class prejudice. But the helplessness of being subtly belittled was real.  A deep sense of powerlessness enveloped her. She opened her mouth to retort, but feared causing trouble. Before even seeing Li Yanyong, her identity would be exposed, and she’d be burned to death.

Just as Lin Zhaoxue considered swallowing her bitterness—a heavily armored man arrived beside her.  Lin Zhaoxue, still grieving, looked up and saw he came from Li Zong Heng’s courtyard.

Without hesitation, he raised his spear, brushing it against Ding Huanhua’s cheek, severing a lock of her hair.  His gruff voice warned, “Madam Li, watch your words. Next time, it might not be just hair.”

Ding Huanhua was startled, catching the falling hair and clutching her cheek. The man, having avenged Lin Zhaoxue, left.

Only Lin Zhaoxue and Ding Huanhua remained.  Ding Huanhua, having lost a lock of hair but unable to retaliate due to Li Zong Heng’s status, had lost out. Her composure crumbled; she was clearly seething.

As if in retaliation, she tightly clutched the severed hair, saying to Lin Zhaoxue, “Actually, I found you familiar the moment I saw you.

When that man just defended you, I suddenly remembered… when the family split, I went to the head of the household’s room and saw a woman’s portrait. You strongly resemble the woman in that portrait… only… the age doesn’t match.”

Her words held a hidden meaning, which Lin Zhaoxue understood. She realized Li Zong Heng’s kindness stemmed from someone he held dear, someone she resembled. It was simply a case of loving someone because they resemble someone else.

Lin Zhaoxue didn’t like Li Zong Heng and wasn’t his concubine.  Ding Huanhua’s words were insignificant to her.  She felt relieved, as if a cloud had lifted—Li Zong Heng’s pity was because she resembled someone he cherished. 

A man of his age, thirty-five, a high-ranking official, would naturally attract many women.  Unless he had physical limitations, he’d likely experienced love and romance.

Seeing Lin Zhaoxue lost in thought, Ding Huanhua mistook it for grief and tactfully ended the conversation.

*

Lin Zhaoxue settled into the Li residence.  Officially Li Zong Heng’s concubine, she moved freely.  Using his status, she re-examined the Li mansion after five years, only to find her traces almost completely erased. Her portraits were gone. 

Questioning a maid, she learned they had been in the house, but removed before Ding Huanhua’s arrival, at Li Yanyong’s order.  He said the original wife’s portraits were inappropriate, causing the current wife sadness.

Lin Zhaoxue barely maintained her composure.  The maid left, and Lin Zhaoxue stood alone, overwhelmed by resentment and anger. 

Yet, she recognized Li Yanyong’s actions as understandable, even reasonable.  Removing the original wife’s portraits was the normal behavior of someone starting a new relationship.  Still, she was furious. 

No wonder Ding Huanhua and the household staff didn’t recognize her.  Not only were her portraits gone, but her servants had also been replaced.  Every trace of her existence had been wiped out, even her personal maid sent back to her family home. 

Li Yanyong did this to prevent friction between the servants of the original wife and the new wife, and to prevent any discomfort for Ding Huanhua.

While Li Zong Heng gave her new servants, they weren’t as familiar or comfortable.

Lin Zhaoxue returned to her room, dejected.  It was her second day back, and the upheaval was overwhelming.  She couldn’t see Li Yanyong yet, but there were others in the mansion. Besides Li Yanyong, the only person she cared about was her son.

The Lantern Festival was approaching, preceded by a small market. Her son would be off from teaching and they could reunite. 

Seeing the changes in her husband and parents, she worried about her son.  Li Yanyong was so kind to his current wife, and her parents even adopted Ding Huanhua as a goddaughter, indicating Ding Huanhua’s capabilities.  What about her son?

She was afraid to think about it.  Her hands trembled.  She closed her eyes, her mind filled with her encounter with Ding Huanhua. 

She tossed and turned, waking up in the middle of the night, lighting a candle and grabbing a mirror.  The light illuminated her large, spacious room. 

She sat on a chair, examining her haggard face in the mirror.  The woman in the mirror, despite being almost thirty, looked like she was only twenty. 

But compared to Ding Huanhua, she looked older.  The face showed the passage of five years, five years of change in Tokyo.  Time couldn’t be stopped, and the path ahead was difficult.

But would she be defeated?  Despite her sweet appearance, Lin Zhaoxue was strong-willed, courageous, and decisive.  She wouldn’t give up until she heard and saw Li Yanyong.

The silence emphasized her loneliness.  Then, a bright, cheerful voice broke the stillness, opening the door.  The cold wind dispelled some of her anxiety.

“Madam!!!”

“You… you’re still alive!!!”

“It’s Yulan!”

After the New Year, busy people resumed their duties.  Before the Lantern Festival, there would be a small market, and those who started work early would have a break until after the festival. 

Lin Zhaoxue learned that her son, Li Hui, was busy due to his studies.  However, he would have a break for the small market and the Lantern Festival.

Li Yanyong was always busy and never attended, so Lin Zhaoxue always went with her son.  Today was the small market.  Lin Zhaoxue planned to reunite with her son there.  Her son was intelligent and open-minded, and didn’t believe in superstition.