Eighteen years ago.
The hospital corridors buzzed with urgency as a woman, eyes wide with both hope and terror, was wheeled toward the delivery room.
Mrs. Li had waited for this child for years. Endless treatments. Heartbreak. Hope, lost and found again.
This was her miracle.
But when the baby arrived… there was no cry.
No breath.
The doctor whispered the words that shattered her world. "I'm sorry. The baby didn't survive."
Time slowed. The world blurred. And something inside her broke.
Days passed in a haze of silence and white walls. Her husband tried to console her, but her grief was deep—unreachable. She wandered the hospital like a ghost, barely eating, barely speaking.
Then—one evening—she stepped into the women's restroom and froze.
A cry.
Faint. Desperate.
In the far stall, wrapped in a thin towel, was a newborn baby—abandoned, trembling, alive.
A miracle. A gift. A second chance.
With shaking hands and a heart aching with grief and wonder, she scooped the baby into her arms.
That child was Li Yan.
---
Now, eighteen years later, Li Yan sat frozen in the kitchen as her mother, trembling, recounted the story through tears.
"I thought… maybe God gave you to me. That you were meant to be mine."
Li Yan couldn't speak.
"I never treated you any differently from your sister. You've always been my daughter."
The dam broke. Tears streamed down Li Yan's cheeks. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her mother.
"You'll always be my mom," she whispered. "No matter what."
That night, she made a promise. She would stay. She would be filial. She belonged with the Li family—the ones who raised her, laughed with her, cried with her.
No bloodline could change that.
---
The next morning, a luxury car arrived outside their modest home.
Li Yan stepped in without a word. Her heart was heavy but calm.
The Zheng estate was even grander in daylight—walls of ivory, roofs of gold, the air filled with quiet power. She was led into a vast sitting hall where her real family waited.
Her father. Her elegant mother. Two older brothers—both tall, refined, so flawless they looked like they'd walked out of a painting. Around them sat a dozen elders, dressed in antique silks and western designer suits—old money, old power.
Li Yan stood straight.
"I appreciate your concern. But I've decided," she said clearly. "I will not leave the Li family. They raised me. They are my home."
Shock rippled across the room.
A thin-lipped elder rose to his feet. "What kind of insolence is this? If we wished, we could erase that family with a single command."
Li Yan's hands clenched.
"You don't get to decide my life," she said. "I do. Please forget about me—think of me as a daughter who never existed."
Gasps echoed. Her birth mother covered her mouth, eyes filled with sorrow.
Then, a calm voice broke the tension.
"It's alright," said her second brother—Zheng Ruichen. "She's overwhelmed. Give her time."
He turned to Li Yan. "Let me take you to school. We'll talk later."
---
The car ride was silent for a while.
Then, he spoke. "You shouldn't anger the elders like that. It's dangerous."
She glared at him. "I told you what I want. Isn't that enough?"
"I know," he said gently. "But you're the daughter of the Zheng family. Whether you accept it or not, they won't let you go."
His voice lowered. "And there's something else."
"What?" she muttered.
He hesitated.
"There's a curse."
Li Yan blinked. "A… curse?"
Ruichen didn't answer.
He just stared straight ahead, the road blurring past the windows.