The sun crept over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose as it cast long shadows across the Hollow Mountain Village. A gentle breeze whispered through the huts and houses, rustling leaves and carrying the scent of dew-kissed grass. The village stirred to life, a stark contrast to the sombre atmosphere that had permeated it in recent days.

For Zhao Li, this place was a welcome respite from the confines of her former life in the Purple Mist Village. Gone were the days of being cramped in a small room, forced to clean up after pigs and endure the constant scrutiny of her stepmother. Here, in Hollow Mountain Village, she found a semblance of peace.

As was her habit, Zhao Li rose before anyone else in the house. The soft patter of her bare feet on the wooden floor was the only sound that broke the pre-dawn silence. She began her daily ritual of cleaning, a task that brought her comfort in its familiarity.

As she worked, her mind wandered to recent events. The incident with her stepmother played on repeat in her thoughts, an unwelcome reminder of the life she’d left behind. Absently, she raised a hand to her cheek, the phantom sting of the slap still fresh in her memory. For days, she'd complained to Aunty Ling about the pain, only to be reassured that her cheek was fine. But the emotional wound ran deeper than any physical mark.

Zhao Li moved through the living room with practiced efficiency, sweeping the floor and wiping down surfaces. As she worked, she paused to take a deep breath of the crisp morning air, savoring its freshness.

“Good morning, Zhao Li,” a warm voice called out, startling her from her reverie.

Turning, Zhao Li’s lips curled into a shy smile as she met Aunty Ling's kind gaze. Without thinking, she dropped into a curtsy, a habit ingrained by years of strict upbringing.

Aunty Ling’s eyes crinkled with affection. “You don’t have to curtsy like that anymore, you know.”

Zhao Li nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I’ll try to stop,” She promised, though they both knew it would take time to break such an ingrained habit.

“And what have I said about you cleaning?” Aunty Ling continued, her tone gently chiding. “You should be resting. Don’t you have lots of hugs to give your father when he arrives?”

At the mention of her father, Zhao Li's eyes lit up with hope. “Has Uncle Ying written back?” She asked, unable to keep the eagerness from her voice. “Is there any news from his visit to Purple Mist Village?”

Aunty Ling's expression softened, a hint of sadness creeping into her eyes. “I’m sorry, dear. There’s still no word from his visit.”

“Oh,” Zhao Li said, her shoulders slumping with disappointment. The spark of hope in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a familiar worry.

Noticing the change in the girl's demeanor, Aunty Ling stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Zhao Li's shoulder. “Don't worry, dear. I’m sure he’s doing everything he can to ensure your safety. Your father will come for you soon, I’m certain of it.”

Zhao Li nodded, trying to push thoughts of her stepmother and the uncertainty of her future from her mind. She focused on her cleaning duties, finding solace in the familiar routine.

The quiet of the morning was broken by the sound of shuffling feet. Little Qing emerged from his bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he yawned widely. His gaze landed on Zhao Li, who was tidying a shelf of books nearby. With childish enthusiasm, he scampered over to her, tugging at the hem of her robe.

“Sister Thi, can you play with me?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Little Qing!” His mother’s stern voice cut through the air. “No playing until you've washed up and eaten your breakfast!”

The boy’s face fell, but he wasn't ready to give up. “But Mummy, I want to play before Sister Thi goes to the watermill!”

A hearty laugh resonated through the house, catching Little Qing's attention. His eyes widened with delight as he turned towards his grandfather's room. “Grandpa, you’re awake!” he shouted, his earlier disappointment forgotten.

“Quiet, Little Qing, or you’ll wake the whole village!” Aunty Ling admonished, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Sorry,” the boy whispered, looking appropriately chastened.

Zhao Li couldn't help but smile at Little Qing's antics. His unbridled joy was infectious, warming her heart. Yet, as she watched him, thoughts of her own sister, Zhao Li, crept into her mind. She wondered if they could ever have a relationship free from her stepmother's influence. No, She thought bitterly, she hates me and has never allowed Little Hua to play with me.

“Are you alright?” Aunty Ling’s voice cut through her melancholy thoughts.

“Huh?” Zhao Li started, realizing she'd been lost in her own world.

“Are you alright, Zhao Li?” Aunty Ling repeated, concern evident in her voice.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Zhao Li answered automatically, her ingrained politeness taking over.

Aunty Ling’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Stop lying. Your face says different.”

Embarrassment colored Zhao Li's cheeks. She swallowed hard, meeting Aunty Ling’s gaze. The woman stood over her, hands on hips, a mix of concern and expectation in her eyes. “Yes, Ma’am, I'm fine,” Zhao Li insisted, forcing a smile.

Aunty Ling let out a soft harrumph, shaking her head as she turned away. “Once you're finished eating, you can head outside to play. Grandpa Jun said you don’t have to go to the watermill with him today.”

The forced smile slipped from Zhao Li’s face for a moment before she caught herself, quickly plastering it back on. “Really?” she asked, trying to inject enthusiasm into her voice.

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“Yes, I’m sure,” Aunty Ling confirmed. “You’ve been working overly hard. Enjoy some time with Little Qing.”

“Yes, Aunty,” Zhao Li replied dutifully.

As she finished making her bed, Zhao Li reached for her empty plate. “Leave it,” Aunty Ling called from the kitchen. “I’ll take care of it.”

Zhao Li hesitated for a moment before setting the plate back on the table. She offered a quick curtsy to Aunty Ling, who was busy sorting bed wrappings on the kitchen floor.

Retreating to her new room, Zhao Li flopped backward onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling. She tried to halt the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind, but it was a futile effort.

The past few days at the watermill with Grandpa Jun had been some of the best experiences of her young life, second only to the exhilarating moments spent perched on her father's shoulders as he bounded through the treetops. That memory was etched indelibly in her mind – the wind rushing through her hair, the world blurring around her, the sense of freedom and safety she felt in her father's presence.

As Zhao Li sighed, lost in the bittersweet reverie, her thoughts inevitably turned to her father's promised arrival. Aunty Ling had assured her he would come within two days, but three had passed with no sign of him. Doubt and fear began to creep into her heart. “Where are you, Da'?” she whispered to the empty room, her voice barely audible. “I’m scared.”

She closed her eyes, conjuring the soothing sound of splashing water in her mind. It was a technique she'd developed to calm herself when there was no one else to offer comfort. As she lay there, she found her thoughts drifting to the flour she'd been using to lighten her skin. The dusty texture felt suffocating, but Zhao Li didn't care. For those brief moments, she looked like everyone else, and that small comfort was worth any discomfort.

The door burst open with a bang, startling Zhao Li from her thoughts. Little Qing bounded in, freshly dressed and wearing a smile that could outshine the sun. He grabbed her hand, tugging insistently. “Come on, let's go!” He chirped, practically vibrating with excitement.

Zhao Li couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. She pushed herself up from the floor, allowing Little Qing to pull her through the house. Their progress was halted by Aunty Ling's sharp voice. “Little Qing!”

“Yesss!” the boy called back, impatience clear in his voice.

“BO QING!” Grandpa Jun's stern voice cut through the air from across the house.

Little Qing froze, his eyes widening with a flicker of fear. He turned slowly, still clutching Zhao Li's hand. “Yes, Mother?” he responded, his voice suddenly meek.

Aunty Ling emerged from the kitchen, a wooden spoon in hand, water dripping slowly from its tip. “Did you bathe?” she asked, her tone brooking no nonsense.

“Yes, Mother,” Little Qing nodded vigorously.

Aunty Ling's eyes narrowed, clearly skeptical of his claim. She set the spoon on the table and approached the children. Little Qing's grip on Zhao Li's hand tightened, as if she could somehow protect him from his mother's scrutiny.

Kneeling before her son, Aunty Ling lifted his right arm and took an exaggerated sniff. Her nose wrinkled slightly, and she seemed to ponder for a moment. Zhao Li could almost see the thoughts churning behind the woman's eyes.

“When you’re finished playing with Little Li, come home immediately. Understood?” Aunty Ling finally said, her tone stern but not unkind.

“Yes, Mother,” Little Qing agreed quickly.

Aunty Ling's gaze shifted to Zhao Li. “Little Li, look out for Little Qing. If he gives you any trouble, send him home. Understood?”

“Yes, Aunty Ling,” Zhao Li replied with a nod.

“Can we gooo now?!” Little Qing whined, bouncing on his toes.

“Yes,” Aunty Ling relented with a sigh.

Little Qing didn't wait for further permission. He bolted for the door, his grip on Zhao Li's hand forcing her to run along or risk tripping them both. They navigated a series of turns, heading towards the south side of the village.

As they ran, Zhao Li couldn't help but notice the reactions of the villagers they passed. An old man carrying a bag of hay paused as they approached, waiting for Little Qing to dash past. But when his gaze fell on Zhao Li, his expression soured. She felt herself shrinking under his disapproving look, averting her eyes. It's the same here, she thought bitterly. They all look at me differently.

The sense of isolation and loneliness that washed over Zhao Li was all too familiar. As accustomed to it as she was, the sting of rejection never dulled. Her ears, ever attuned to the whispers that followed her, caught the muttered words of an old woman tending to her cow: “Drought Demoness!"

Little Qing seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of hostility, too caught up in his excitement to notice the way the villagers looked at them. As they ran, he pointed out different flowers and plants, rattling off their names and uses with childish enthusiasm. Zhao Li listened intently, grateful for the distraction and eager to absorb as much knowledge as she could.

Their journey was interrupted by a sharp voice cutting through the air. “Little Qing!"

The boy skidded to a halt, releasing Zhao Li's hand. He darted towards the source of the voice – a tall man wearing a ripped linen shirt. The sound of an Axe hitting the ground punctuated Little Qing's joyful cry of “Uncle Zhou!” as he leapt into the man's arms.

Zhao Li gaped at the newcomer, taken aback by his imposing stature. Uncle Zhou stood at least six feet tall, his chest covered in a thatch of hair that peeked out from his shirt. A scraggly beard framed his face, which broke into a warm smile as he greeted Little Qing.

Zhou's gaze shifted to Zhao Li, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her appearance. Instinctively, she took a step back, intimidated by his scrutiny.

“Are you Little Li, Master Zhao Xing's daughter?” he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

“I am,” She answered, dropping into a curtsy. Her nerves got the better of her, and she fumbled the gesture, nearly losing her balance.

“You've grown so big since I last saw you,” Zhou remarked. “How is your father?"

“He is well Zhou,” Zhao Li replied, straightening up. “He's coming to see me today.” The words came out automatically, a hope she clung to despite the growing doubt in her heart.

“Oh? Good,” Zhou nodded. “When he arrives, tell him Hun Zhou is available for any further work the Purple Mist Sect needs.”

“I will do as you ask, Sir Zhou,” Zhao Li promised, her voice small but earnest.

“Are you done now, Uncle Zhou?” Little Qing interrupted, impatience clear in his voice. “Sister Thi and I are going to play!”

Zhou chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair. “Well, don’t let me keep you from your games!” He said with a smile.

Little Qing didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Zhao Li’s hand once more, and they resumed their journey towards the south side of the village.

As they ran, Zhao Li’s curiosity got the better of her. “Who was that man, Little Qing?” She asked between breaths.

“Oh, that’s Uncle Zhou. He’s a carpenter,” Little Qing explained. “He fixes most of the houses around the village.”

“I’ve never seen him before,” Zhao Li mused.

“Yeah, he doesn't like your stepmother’s family,” Little Qing said a matter-of-factually, oblivious to the weight of his words.

“Oh...” Zhao Li fell silent, processing this new information. After a moment, she changed the subject. “Where are we headed?”

“To the fields!” Little Qing chirped.

“Why are we playing in the fields?” Zhao Li pressed, confusion evident in her voice.

“Big Brother Tong promised to teach me how to play Jianzi!” Little Qing explained, excitement bubbling in his words. “I want you to come and learn too!”

“Jianzi?” Zhao Li echoed, the unfamiliar word rolling off her tongue.

“Yes, Jianzi!”

“What’s that?”

Little Qing’s brow furrowed as he tried to explain. “It’s... um... you should see it. I can't really explain it.”

“If you say so...” Zhao Li conceded, her curiosity piqued.

Little Qing veered left, sprinting down a small hill. Zhao Li, already winded from their run, struggled to keep up. Her lungs burned with the exertion, and she found herself slowing down, gasping for breath. A bead of sweat beaded trickled down Zhao Li’s forehead, then droplets splashed on the ground as she bent over, hands on her knees. I can't keep She mused sourly, then watched as Little Qing disappeared in the distance.