Chapter 14

She tucked the pale yellow envelope deep into the back of her drawer.

The night was quiet. Moonlight outside spilled silver across the floor in a soft, shallow glow.

She sat alone at her desk, holding a pen in her hand, and gently wrote:

[First income: 500 yuan.]

Those few words landed on the paper like a delicate flower blooming.

She had heard the sound of money countless times before—
The accountant at Qinghong House flicking the abacus beads,
The stewardess in the Zhou household calculating the cost of a rouge ribbon,
The heavy dowry chests carried into the Cheng residence, full of gold leaves.

But none of it had ever belonged to her.

Those were other people’s bargaining chips—exchanged for her appearance.

But this money, this time, was for the face cream she made—with her own skill.

A soft warmth rose in her chest.

She set down the pen and looked out at the patch of moonlight beyond the window. Her lips slowly curved.

“I should make more.”

A few days later, Ah Miao brought news.

“Nan Nan! My mom loved your face cream—she wants two more jars! And she asked if she could give one to her bestie. Her friend is one of those rich ladies who drops thousands on cosmetics. If she likes it, you’re gonna be famous!”

Ran Nannan froze for a moment, heart giving a small jump.
“…Really?”

“Of course really!” Ah Miao grinned, looping her arm through hers. “Don’t you go underestimating yourself.”

That night, under the soft light of her lamp, Ran Nannan worked on a new batch of cream. Her hands were even more careful than usual.

The beeswax melted slowly, then blended with the finely ground lotus pollen. As she stirred in slow circles with a bamboo stick, the color shifted from pale yellow to a gentle blush pink.

She remembered the old man at the herbal pharmacy saying:

“A good cream isn’t judged by how white it looks, but by that subtle dewy glow it leaves when you spread it.”

When the batch was done, she tested a bit on the back of her hand.
Delicate—almost weightless.

Her heart settled, like a stone gently placed down.

The next day, Ah Miao came running to pick up the two jars. Before leaving, she added mysteriously:

“Oh, by the way—I met a girl at yoga class. She’s organizing some kind of posture and body alignment workshop and testing different wellness products. Wanna check it out? Might help you find more clients.”

“Posture management?” Ran Nannan blinked.

“Yeah, like how to walk properly, how to sit and stand gracefully—with some special treatments mixed in. Rich women love that stuff. Makes them feel refined. Your face cream might totally fit in.”

Something stirred in Ran Nannan’s chest.

In her past life, she’d been forced by the madams of Qinghong House to practice posture, walk in heels, master glances—she knew how detailed that training could get. If she could connect with such a class, her formulas might reach even more people.

“Sure.”

The weather was perfect that day. Clear blue skies. Sunlight scattering golden patterns on the tiled floor.

They went together to the “Posture Management Center.” The storefront was extravagantly decorated. The marble floors gleamed, and the air smelled faintly of expensive sandalwood.

“Miss Ran?” A receptionist in a fitted qipao smiled as she approached. “Miss Ah Miao has already made your appointment. Please follow me.”

Ran Nannan gave a polite smile and followed.

They walked down a long corridor, mirrors with gold trim lining both sides, stretching their reflections thin.

At the door to a private room, the receptionist gently pushed it open.

“Please.”

Inside, only a few wall sconces were lit, casting a soft, dim light. A padded mat sat in the center of the room. A small wooden table to the side held an incense burner, sandalwood smoke curling from its tip.

Just as Ran Nannan stepped inside—
Click.

The door locked from the outside.

A chill slid down her spine.

She slowly turned back. The receptionist still stood by the door, smiling gently.

“Don’t worry, Miss Ran. The initial posture treatment requires a quiet room. We lock it to avoid outside disturbances.”

She picked up a small wooden stick and lightly tapped it on Ran Nannan’s shoulder.

“Please sit down. Relax first.”

Ran Nannan stared into her eyes, but inside, her instincts tightened like a coil.

The air, the space, the control—
It all felt too familiar.
Like the first time they’d locked her in a grooming chamber at Qinghong House, when she was just sixteen.

She sat down slowly, but her fingers quietly rolled up her sleeve.

Sewn into the lining was a thin silver needle—something she’d kept from her herbal prep days.

“Please close your eyes. Take a deep breath.”

The stick tapped gently along her shoulder and neck. The receptionist’s voice stayed calm and soothing.

Ran Nannan did as told. Her lashes quivered.
The next moment, a faint scent crept into her nose.

Not ordinary sandalwood.

There was a trace of something else—cool and oddly numbing.
Like the chill left behind after red safflower touched bone ash.

Her heart gave a sharp jolt.

She opened her eyes at once, gaze turning icy.

The receptionist blinked, still smiling.

“Miss Ran, is something wrong?”

“What did you put in the incense?” Her voice was soft—but carried a dangerous chill.

In her past life, she’d trained in incense therapy under the old madam at Qinghong. She knew that some special compounds could dull the senses, blur thoughts, make people compliant.

One of the most common was wuyao powder, hidden in a formula called “Seven-Fragrance Blend.” A little inhaled, and your pulse could go haywire.

The receptionist kept smiling.

“Miss Ran, you must be mistaken, we—”

Ran Nannan didn’t wait for her to finish.

She stood up in a single smooth motion. Her steps were light and precise. In the blink of an eye, she was at the door.

From her sleeve, the silver needle flashed.

“Open the door.”

The receptionist froze, her eyes flicking to the almost invisible sliver of silver in Ran Nannan’s hand. Her smile faltered.

“Miss Ran… what are you—”

“I said—open the door.”

Her tone was quiet.
But cold as ice.

There was a moment’s hesitation outside—then a soft click. The lock turned.

Ran Nannan gathered her skirt and walked out without looking back.

Only when she stepped into the bright sunlight again did she slowly exhale.

Her fingers were still damp with cold sweat.

She didn’t know—didn’t want to know—what that so-called center was truly hiding.
She only knew one thing:

In her past life, she’d been used as a bargaining chip.
In this life, no one—
No one—would touch her without her say.

That night, back home, she washed her face over and over again, trying to rid her nose of the lingering scent.

Water streamed through her fingers. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Droplets rolled down her chin—like washing away the icy traces of memory.

She let out a quiet breath.

“It’s alright.”

The words were so soft, they almost sounded like a sigh.

Then she looked at the mirror again, and slowly lifted the corner of her lips.

No more madams from Qinghong House.
No more bookkeepers from the Zhou family.
No more suitors from the Cheng estate.

Now—
She lived only for herself.