The Bao family's annual gathering was the grandest display of power, wealth, and legacy in the Lower Realm. Beneath the towering red-silk banners embroidered with the family crest—a fierce dragon entwined around a blazing sun—every branch of the Bao family gathered, flaunting their prosperity. As Bao Li Fan entered the grand courtyard with his mother, Li Mei, and younger siblings, he felt the weight of judgmental gazes upon him, like daggers meant to remind him of his place.

This was not the first time he had faced such scorn, but the whispers seemed louder this year, more barbed.

“Is that Li Mei and her children?” a voice murmured, dripping with disdain.

"Look at those robes—patched and mismatched! Have they no shame?” another sneered, loud enough for the message to pierce Li Fan’s ears.

Bao Li Fan clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he fought the urge to lash out. His family's clothes were indeed worn and patched, a glaring contrast to the elegant silks and ornate jewelry adorning his relatives. Still, his mother walked forward, her head held high, her back straight. Li Mei, despite her frailty, had an air of unshakable dignity that none could steal. She placed a calming hand on Li Fan’s shoulder, her fingers warm and steady against his tensed muscles.

“Fan’er,” she murmured softly, leaning close, “don’t let their words taint your heart. They only see what their narrow minds allow.”

But it was impossible to ignore. The years of disdain had worn at him, leaving a scarred anger within. He felt his resentment swell with each smug look thrown his way. Nearby, his siblings clung close to their mother, their innocent faces uncomprehending but visibly shaken by the cold looks and hushed insults.

Up on the raised pavilion, overlooking the gathering, sat the family elders. Bao Zhang, the family patriarch, was a man of withered age but sharp presence. He looked down at the crowd with eyes that missed nothing. When he raised a hand, the courtyard fell into silence.

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“It is an honor,” he began, his voice reverberating through the crowd, “to witness the unity, strength, and success of our family today.”

His gaze scanned the crowd, lingering on Li Fan’s family for a beat too long. “Today, we celebrate those who carry the legacy of the Bao family proudly—and we reflect on those who… fall short.”

The words were like a knife twisting in Li Fan’s gut, each phrase a deliberate wound meant to cut deeper. His vision blurred with anger, and he fought to keep his hands steady as he saw a few relatives exchanging smug looks, basking in the subtle insult. The faces of Bao Zhen and others from the main family twisted in contemptuous smiles.

Bao Zhang continued, his voice resonant and unforgiving. “Every family has its black sheep. They remind us of what we must avoid, of the dangers of failing our bloodline’s potential.”

Li Fan’s heart hammered, his knuckles white as he dug his nails into his palms. His mother tightened her grip on his shoulder, sensing the anger he could barely contain.

“Let them talk, Fan’er,” she whispered, her voice calm yet edged with sadness. “They live in a cage of their own making, bound by pride that blinds them. Do not let them drag you into it.”

But her words only served to fan the flames within him. Bao Li Fan knew that his family—his mother and his younger siblings—were innocent, victims of the same prejudice that had stunted his own prospects. The weight of their shame wasn’t theirs to bear, yet they carried it all the same.

After the ceremony, when the feast began, his family was relegated to a table at the farthest end of the courtyard. It was poorly decorated, with chipped pottery and barely any food, a stark contrast to the central tables where the main branch dined on delicacies.

Bao Zhen sauntered over, a taunting smile on his lips. “You know, Fan,” he said, voice dripping with feigned sympathy, “it must be hard, always being the outcast. The family embarrassment.”

Li Fan’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to remain silent, his mother’s advice echoing in his mind. The last thing he wanted was to create more humiliation for her, but every nerve screamed to strike back. Beside him, his siblings watched the exchange, wide-eyed, sensing the tension without fully understanding it.

“Zhen,” his mother spoke, her voice cold but composed, “say what you want about us, but our honor remains intact. Can you say the same?”

Bao Zhen laughed, a derisive sound that cut through the chatter. “Honor? Dignity? Those are excuses the weak use to hide their failures. Keep telling yourself that, if it helps you sleep.”

Li Fan’s restraint snapped. He took a step forward, his gaze sharp as steel. “Say what you want about me, but don’t insult my family.”

A few heads turned, and whispers filled the air. Bao Zhen raised an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes. “Defiant, are we? Bold words… for someone who has nothing.”

Li Mei placed a firm hand on Li Fan’s arm, pulling him back, but the wound was already deep. As Li Fan looked around, seeing the silent pity in his mother’s eyes and the innocent confusion on his siblings' faces, he felt a part of him harden, calcifying into something darker.