Chapter 2: Is It Easy to Turn Things Around?

The pitch-black street was punctuated now and then by the barking of dogs, the temperature dropping with each passing moment. Even the barks faded into silence, let alone the presence of any passersby.

As a protagonist born weighing barely two pounds, it seemed unlikely I would survive the night. At least, that’s what I believed.

Damn!

It was bad enough being betrayed, but to be harmed by my own younger brother the moment I was born? No, it was more indirect harm—mostly due to that wretched woman who incited my kind-hearted mother, a woman I’d only met once in passing.

Fine, let’s not whitewash my mother’s role in this—her hands were far from clean. How ruthless! Others might choose to save the mother, but when it came to me, the outcome was this.

Yet, the vile woman wasn’t entirely wrong; in a family like this, every step was fraught with danger. How I longed for the simplicity of an ordinary household.

My eyelids felt unbearably heavy, hunger gnawed at my belly. Was this the end…?

If I die this time, let me not skip the soup of forgetfulness—I don’t want to be born again with my memories intact. The sensation is… unsettling.

At the edge of despair, the sound of wooden wheels echoed down the deserted street, strikingly clear in the silence. From the timbre, the wheels were not cheaply made.

There was the sound of hooves too—proud and majestic, clearly not from ordinary horses. Footsteps marched in unison, hinting at an extraordinary procession.

There might be hope yet…

I could still be saved.

“Help! Help! Please, just a morsel of food…”

My voice was so faint, drowned out by the clatter of hooves and wheels, barely a whisper, for hunger had sapped my strength.

A long procession gradually approached, a lavish cavalcade at this late hour—a sight as puzzling as it was impressive.

At its center was a magnificent carriage, its frame crafted from the finest fragrant wood—light, strong, and carrying a subtle, pleasing scent.

But the true marvel was the horse at the fore: even in the dead of night, its white coat shimmered with a starlit brilliance, sparkling and resplendent—a steed fit for only the grandest of noblewomen.

Within the carriage, the luxury was even more apparent—golden patterns handwoven with exquisite craftsmanship, each detail vibrant and alive, radiating aristocratic grace.

Two women sat inside. One wore a simple yet elegant white dress, exuding both humility and nobility. Her ebony hair fell naturally over her shoulders, lips curved in a gentle smile that invited warmth and trust. Her belly was slightly rounded—she was with child.

Beside her sat a young maid, demure and respectful.

“Madam, why are we leaving in the middle of the night? It’s not good for your health. If the master finds out, he’ll worry himself sick,” the maid finally blurted out, unable to contain her concern.

“It’s more peaceful this way. I dislike noisy farewells,” the woman replied softly, her voice as clear and smooth as spring water, leaving a lingering sense of calm.

The maid pursed her lips, understanding more than she let on. At least this way, they were spared the insincerity of false goodbyes.

Still, she felt so drowsy, while her mistress remained spirited—she dared not sleep.

“Hm? Xiao Ling, do you hear a baby crying?” the woman asked, puzzled.

Xiao Ling listened intently, then chuckled, “Madam, there’s no baby out at this hour. Perhaps you’re just missing your own child.”

The woman laughed gently, suspecting she was only imagining things, as the sound faded from her ears.

At the mouth of the alley, I was too weak even to call out. Did they not see me?

If no one would save me, I would have to save myself.

But how? My limbs were limp and powerless. I turned my head slightly toward the procession—damn, they were just about to pass by.

Bite my tongue, perhaps? But I had no teeth.

Despair—a profound, suffocating hopelessness.

Was I destined to perish in this dark alley? So be it. But if I must die, I’d at least try to turn my luck—I refused to die as a useless wretch.

“Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!”

I summoned every ounce of strength, the effort wrung from my very soul.

Inside the carriage, the woman’s eyes sharpened. “Xiao Ling, did you hear that?”

“Madam, I think I did—though it’s a most peculiar cry. Almost as if the baby is straining at… something,” Xiao Ling replied, puzzled.

“Stop the carriage,” the woman ordered, her tone decisive.

“Miss, the night air is cold; you might catch a chill,” the maid cautioned, always mindful of her mistress’s wellbeing.

“Just drape my cloak over me,” came the gentle response.

Helpless, Xiao Ling wrapped the cloak around her mistress’s shoulders. The woman alighted, and immediately the captain of the guard hurried over, bowing respectfully. “Madam, is something the matter?”

She gestured for silence, listening intently.

The captain glanced at Xiao Ling, who signaled him to keep alert—there could be danger lurking.

This woman’s status must be high indeed, given her caution.

Guided by the faint sound, the woman approached the alleyway.

“Madam!” the captain tried to stop her, his instincts screaming of a trap.

But she understood and pressed on.

A wail echoed from the shadows—if the royal translator were present, it would have meant, “At last, I’ve turned the tide!”

There was no mistaking it now.

“It’s nothing, I’ll just take a look,” the woman said, stepping forward. The captain dared not block her path.

Xiao Ling hurried after, ready to shield her mistress with her own body. Her instincts told her there must be dozens of assassins lying in wait. Was this to be her end?

At last, the woman found the source—a bundle?

How could a bundle make the sound of a baby?

She knelt, gently pulling back a corner of the swaddling cloth.

“Waaah… Waaah…”

If one could interpret, it would have meant, “Who are you people? I finally managed to turn over, and now you won’t even let me be. If you won’t feed me, at least let me move. Is there no justice? Must you treat a dying soul so cruelly…?”

Xiao Ling exclaimed, “Madam, it’s a child!”

“I’m not blind,” the woman retorted, rolling her eyes and scooping the infant into her arms.

“Madam… Madam…” Xiao Ling watched helplessly as her mistress carried the child back to the carriage. Wasn’t this reckless? Perhaps someone had simply left the child while they went to relieve themselves. What if they returned and found the baby gone?

She scrambled back onto the carriage, and the procession moved on.

Much later, the wretched woman reappeared in the alley.

“Where is he? Gone? Damn little bastard! What am I to do now? Are they forcing me to run for my life?” Muttering curses, the ugly woman glanced around furtively before vanishing into the darkness.