In her younger days, He Yan wasn’t as quick-witted as she is now. Looking back at her past self with current eyes, she found herself to have been excessively dull.

Back then, she wasn’t particularly good at either literary or martial arts, similar to the current Cheng Li Su – a “useless young master.” However, unlike Cheng Li Su who had a powerful uncle protecting him, the He family’s status didn’t count for much at Xian Chang Academy, so she wasn’t as well-liked as Cheng Li Su.

Moreover, she constantly wore a mask in her youth, always appearing out of place. Harboring her secret, she never dared interact too much with the other youths for fear of exposing herself. Gradually, she became ostracized by the other students at Xian Chang Academy.

The youths’ rejection came directly. At first, they just excluded her from games and cuju matches. Later, things escalated, and ironically, the reason was quite trivial – simply because she was too hardworking.

Young He Yan was single-minded, taking the saying “the slow bird must start early” to heart, truly beginning as the slow bird. The worse she performed in literary and martial arts, the harder she studied, and more diligently than anyone else. Though the academy’s teachers felt this child truly wasn’t cut out for studying martial arts, they were often moved by He Yan’s persistent pursuit of learning. Thus, they frequently praised her in class.

“Diligent study is like spring seedlings – though growth isn’t visible, it happens daily. Look at He Ru Fei, learn from her example!”

All being fourteen or fifteen-year-old youths who loved to compete and excel, learning from others was one thing, but learning from He Yan? Learn her daily diligent study and practice, only to remain last in everything? They must be crazy!

Yet somehow, all the teachers seemed particularly fond of He Yan.

The youths’ anger rose, mixed with malice. Jealousy and disdain combined made them increasingly despise the masked youth, finding ways to trouble He Yan every few days.

One day they’d deliberately cut her clothes during sword practice, the next they’d feed her horse sneezing grass. Sometimes they’d poke holes in her boots so that when she fell, stones would cut her feet. When He Yan struggled to get up from the ground, the youths would hide together and mock her for their amusement.

Young He Yan was slow in both mind and speech, unable to report these matters to the teachers, who remained unaware of the students’ private actions. He Yan endured a difficult period.

One winter day, when the weather was very cold and the youths were practicing swords in the academy, someone poured a basin of water on the ground, which quickly froze. They urged from outside, “He Ru Fei, hurry, hurry, the teacher is calling you!”

He Yan rushed out, slipped on the ice, and fell flat on her face.

The fall was heavy, making her see stars and unable to get up for a while. The group of youths hid in the corner laughing, saying, “He fell for it!”

He Yan sat there for a good while before standing up, biting her lips without speaking. Academy students returned home once a month, and she had no clean clothes left this month. With pranks every few days, even immortals wouldn’t have enough clothes, and in this weather, with rare sunlight, it was hard to dry them.

He Yan spent the entire day in half-wet clothes. That night, she got up from her bed, but instead of practicing sword work, she went to the academy’s teaching hall.

Even a clay figure has some spirit, let alone the eldest young master of the He family – she had some pride. But she was also practical; those youths were bigger and stronger, with much better skills – she couldn’t win in a fight. Should she just let it go? Impossible.

How could she get revenge?

Fourteen-year-old He Yan thought for a long while before coming up with a plan.

It was snowing that night. Wearing her still-damp clothes, she braved the wind and snow to draw a bucket of water from the backyard well and carried it to the hall.

She remembered where each youth sat during the day and found their calligraphy practice sheets under their desks. This month’s assignment was to copy the “Nature and Principle Characters Guide” five times, due tomorrow at month’s end.

He Yan poured the entire bucket of water over them.

The water instantly soaked the writing, blurring it into indistinct masses. He Yan exhaled, feeling momentary satisfaction followed by nervousness.

She hurriedly stuffed the practice sheets back in their places and rushed out carrying the empty bucket. Being her first time doing such a thing, she was inevitably anxious. In the night, not daring to light a lamp, she reached the doorway but missed seeing the threshold in the darkness. With a loud “bang,” she fell hard.

She sucked in a painful breath – falling twice in one day, and this time worse. Her elbow caught on a wooden splinter in the threshold, cutting a gash that began to bleed. He Yan struggled to sit up, holding her arm, wondering if this was karma striking swiftly.

She had only done one bad deed! Heaven was being too harsh!

Regardless, she needed to return the bucket quickly. The bucket – right, where was her bucket? She suddenly realized that with such a hard fall, the bucket should have made a huge noise when it hit the ground, waking everyone. Why was it still so quiet?

He Yan looked up in confusion, stood up, and took two steps forward. Only then did she see someone standing outside the door. He was leaning lazily against the wooden door, his back to He Yan, holding an iron bucket.

It was Xiao Jue.

In that instant, He Yan was too nervous to speak.

Had he seen it? Surely he hadn’t? Impossible – he must have seen, he was holding the bucket. But if he hadn’t seen, how should she explain? Watering flowers in the middle of the night?

As He Yan’s thoughts raced, the youth saw her standing woodenly and raised an eyebrow, asking, “Doesn’t it hurt?”

He Yan: “Huh?”

His gaze fell on He Yan’s elbow. She had rolled up her sleeves to carry water, and on her fair elbow, a trail of blood like ugly embroidery was particularly visible in the weak lantern light.

He Yan instinctively tried to hide her hand behind her back.

The youth gave her an impatient look and said coldly, “Follow me.”

He Yan didn’t know why she obeyed – perhaps she was too shocked – but she followed him dazedly.

Xiao Jue first put the iron bucket back by the well, then turned to see her still standing there holding her arm in a daze. He sneered, his expression meaningful: “Such a coward, yet trying to do bad things.”

He Yan clenched her fists silently, very nervous. Usually, Xiao Jue only associated with his close friends, not particularly friendly with other academy students. He Yan didn’t know what he was thinking. If he reported her…

A cool vessel was tossed into her arms.

He Yan looked down to see what appeared to be a mandarin duck vessel, exquisitely crafted with intricate patterns.

She heard her voice, tiny as a mosquito’s: “What is this?”

“Don’t know how to use it?” The youth turned his head, expression lazy. “Medicine.”