Chapter Thirty-Two: The Little Fairy with Broken Wings

Di Ying and his companion followed the old steward along the clean path, winding this way and that until they reached the rear courtyard.

The moment they entered, it was easy to spot which little house belonged to Qian Xin’er. Only that courtyard, from top to bottom, front to back, had its snow thoroughly swept away and everything tended with meticulous care.

Di Ying surmised that all the steward’s devotion was spent caring for Qian Xin’er. Her survival was thanks to such a loyal old retainer.

Following him into the courtyard, the steward spoke through the main house’s door.

“Miss, an official from the court has arrived. Don’t be afraid—this time, he’s a good man. There may yet be hope for your father’s return.”

Inside, silence reigned; there was no reply.

The old steward raised his hand to knock, but Di Ying stopped him. Di Ying stepped onto the porch, moved to the window of the side room, and spoke gently:

“Qian Xin’er, the key evidence in your father’s case—the most crucial and direct—has gone missing.

You’ve been so brave, holding on all this time, haven’t you? It’s because you wish to wait for your father’s return.

Your father has never given up hope of coming home. He and the old steward have both been striving for it.

You must try too—just a little harder—so I may see your face. Don’t worry, let’s see if we can find any evidence that might help your father. Will you let me?

Don’t be afraid—your appearance doesn’t change the kindness and beauty inside you.

And don’t worry about startling me. I have seen many little fairies with broken wings.

Do you know what it means, a little fairy with broken wings?

Every little life is a star from the heavens, transformed into a person on earth. When they arrive, they carry beautiful wings and are all lovely and charming.

But sometimes, during their descent, they encounter thunder, storms, snow, and rain. In those moments, their wings might be injured or broken.

So, as they grow, there might be little flaws here and there.

That’s why they must be braver and work harder than others, just to be like everyone else.

But Heaven is fair. Though it may have broken their wings, it compensates in other ways.

See, you suffered an accident, but you once had happiness and joy, the best father, the loyal steward, and the fortune of never wanting for food or clothing.

You must know, many children haven’t enough to eat or wear. They endure far more hardship—greater obstacles than a marred face.

You…”

Di Ying’s words were cut short as the door opened.

A frail, almost shapeless figure appeared at the threshold, clothes hanging loose on her thin frame. Her head was veiled in gossamer, and she did not cross the threshold, but leaned timidly against the doorframe, asking in a trembling voice:

“Sir, what you’re saying… am I… am I also a little fairy, just one whose wings were broken? Am I a little star, am I…?”

“Yes!” Di Ying turned, his face bright and open, nodding emphatically, his gaze filled with encouragement.

“So, little fairy, will you join me to find a way to bring your father home, to mend your beautiful wings?”

The girl hesitated, pressing her head against the doorframe, rubbing it as if waging a fierce battle within herself. Yet there was clear excitement—her toes traced paths back and forth on the floor.

Seeing this, Di Ying smiled and reached out a hand from several steps away, as if gently drawing her forward, his voice full of reassurance:

“Come, step out slowly. Look at the snow—it knows it will be soiled, will melt away, but it still falls bravely.

How courageous, how lovely—just like your invisible wings, always yearning to see the sun.”

The girl still didn’t reply, but her grip on the doorframe tightened, her head turned to glance behind her, then at the snow in the courtyard’s corner, and finally, up at the sky above.

She hesitated, torn…

Di Ying said nothing more, maintaining his gesture and warm, encouraging smile, and waited.

“Sir, can you truly bring my father home?” After many heartbeats, the girl spoke at last, but her question was for her father.

Di Ying’s smile deepened as he nodded firmly. “I can.”

He truly could—a single stroke of his pen could have made it so. Now, all that remained was to wait for the right moment, to restore justice for her father.

To take or release—these were never simple matters.

There was no need to say so to the girl.

Hearing that her father could be brought home, Qian Xin’er lifted her foot, shrinking back, but at last, summoned her courage and stepped out.

Though trembling with fear, she emerged.

The old steward covered his mouth, silently stepping back, sobbing with joy and relief.

Now he believed—Di Ying was truly a good man. There was hope for his master’s return.

Di Ying watched Qian Xin’er draw closer, step by slow, trembling step. Gradually, her pace quickened, her strides lengthening.

As she neared, Di Ying slowly withdrew his hand, as if gently guiding her to his side.

Qian Xin’er seemed to sense it, biting her lip, summoning all her will to resist fleeing back inside.

She walked towards that warm, sun-like smile, step by step.

At last, standing before him, she took a deep breath, hand over her heart, and met his steady, ocean-deep gaze. Suddenly, her own heart steadied.

She gathered her skirts and bowed, her voice weak but resolute: “I beg you, sir, grant justice to my father and me.”

Di Ying’s smile broadened.

Inside, though, he was profoundly moved.

He knew what torment and struggle each step must have cost her—yet she had done it. Truly remarkable.

He bent over, hands poised in a gesture of support, and replied with renewed firmness: “Rest assured, as long as I am here.”

The girl straightened, replying softly, the word drawn out and trembling, full of trust and hope.

…

Soon after, the steward brought out a chair and invited his young mistress to sit beneath the eaves.

Qian Xin’er was in good spirits now. Though she hesitated when removing her veil, it did not last long.

She felt an unexplainable trust that the man before her would not despise her ugliness, nor look down on her.

Of course, Di Ying did not. He did not even find her revealed face especially disfigured.

He crouched before her, smiling gently, and with her permission, touched her face lightly with the pad of his finger.