Side Story: Thorny Past



My name is Yu Jiuyuan, and I am the sole heir of the Yu family in this generation.

My childhood memories are devoid of warm colors, filled only with the cold light refracted from crystal chandeliers and the small, upright figure reflected in the mahogany floor.

The Yu family mansion was as big as a maze, with expensive carpets in every room, so quiet that you had to hold your breath.

Because no one will pay attention to a child's footsteps unless those footsteps can keep up with their pace, speak with weight at family meetings, or show a formidable edge in the struggle for inheritance.

Love is a very unfamiliar word.

My mother's perfume always carried a sense of detachment, and when her fingers brushed through my hair, it felt more like she was caressing a delicate work of art than her daughter.

"Jiuyuan must be good and become a child worthy of the Yu family."

This is what she says most often. Being well-behaved doesn't mean being clingy or asking for hugs. It means having proper posture, speaking politely, being proficient in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, and being able to show the right smile when praised by elders at banquets.

My father was even busier; his face was always on the cover of financial magazines or on the screen of video conferences. I saw him far less often than I saw the housekeeper.

He had only one requirement for me: to become stronger, stronger than all the children from other branches of the family, and more capable of shouldering the burden of the Yu family than anyone else.

My earliest toy was a miniature business simulation model.

The housekeeper taught me how to read reports, how to analyze the market, and how to gain the upper hand at the virtual negotiating table.

While other children were playing house, I was memorizing family trees and business terms.

While other children listened to bedtime stories in their parents' arms, I was in my study researching contract cases from previous years.

Once, my older brother from another branch of the family snatched the model from my hand and smashed it on the ground, scattering the parts everywhere. I didn't cry or make a fuss; I just squatted down and picked up the pieces one by one, reassembling it.

That night, I disassembled and reassembled all the models three times, until my fingers were red from being rubbed by the tiny parts.

I know that crying and making a scene are useless, and showing weakness will only lead to being bullied. Only by becoming stronger, strong enough that no one dares to look down on me, can I gain a foothold in this cold house.

I first felt "the center of attention" at the family annual meeting when I was seven years old.

My uncle from a distant branch of the family deliberately made things difficult for me, asking me a business question that was beyond my age. All eyes were on me, some with curiosity, some with mockery, and some with a sense of watching a show.

I remained calm and presented my analysis clearly and logically, even quoting my father's recent remarks at the board meeting.

At that moment, a flicker of emotion crossed my father's eyes—an expression I had never seen before, one that bordered on approval. My mother also took my hand; though still cold, it held it with a slight firmness than usual.

It turns out that becoming stronger really can get you attention.

From then on, I worked even harder.

I learn horseback riding and martial arts so that I can protect myself when needed.

I learned multiple languages ​​and financial management so that I could have a say in family affairs.

I even studied psychology, not to understand others, but to decipher the calculations and desires hidden behind facial expressions.

I am like a plant growing in a crack in the rock, desperately absorbing all the nutrients that can help me grow stronger, and polishing myself into a sharp sword, hidden in my small body.

But I soon discovered that a sharp sword can easily arouse people's fear.

When I was twelve, I pointed out a fatal flaw in my cousin's proposal at a family project review meeting.

My logic was flawless, and the data was accurate, but what was the result?

My cousin's eyes reddened as he cried to my grandfather, complaining that I had bullied him.

Several elders from collateral branches also spoke up, saying that I was "too domineering," "didn't know how to be humble," and "didn't act like a child."

My grandfather frowned, neither blaming me nor affirming me, but simply said, "Jiuyuan, you are very smart, but sometimes being too outstanding is not necessarily a good thing."

That day I returned to my room and looked at myself in the mirror.

She wore a white dress and her hair was neatly combed, but the calmness and sharpness in her eyes were like a drawn sword, making people feel intimidated.

I suddenly realized that in this family, "strength" is necessary, but "showing off strength" is dangerous.

Elders don't prefer children who are overly assertive or showy; instead, they favor obedient, sensible, and seemingly innocent children. They tend to be more lenient with such children, showing them more affection and letting their guard down.

Like a little white rabbit in a greenhouse, no one will ever suspect that it can hurt people.

I started to learn to change.

I softened my gaze, replacing the sharpness in my eyes with a gentler look.

I no longer directly refute my elders in meetings, but instead express my views in a tone of seeking advice.

I would proactively serve tea to the elders at banquets, and when they talked about everyday matters, I would show an expression of attentive listening.

Even when my younger siblings from other branches of the family take my things, I will smile and say "it's okay," and then subtly make them pay a small price for their actions.

I remember once, my cousin deliberately spilled red wine on my dress, which was a birthday gift from my mother.

I wasn't angry. I just lowered my head, looked aggrieved, and said softly, "It's okay, my sister didn't mean it."

My grandfather happened to see this and immediately criticized my cousin. He also specially sent me a more expensive dress.

That night, my mother hugged me for the first time and said, "Jiuyuan, you are doing very well now."

Good? I know that when she says "good," she means that I have finally learned to use "harmlessness" as armor and "obedience" as a weapon.

My dear reader, there's more to this chapter! Please click the next page to continue reading—even more exciting content awaits!

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