The Princess That Bullied Me Cries On My Legs Every Day - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

[Hello Artist, are you open for character design commissions?]

A direct message popped up in Yu Xian’s Weibo inbox—someone was inquiring about a character commission.

Yu Xian: [Yes, I am. What kind of character design are you looking for?]

Client: [No background, just a half-body modern female design. The prompt is… essentially an arrogant, willful young lady with princess syndrome, with a beauty mark on the right side of the bridge of her nose. I’ll leave the outfit up to your creativity, Artist—the more lavish, the better…]

The client sent over the general specifications. Yu Xian considered them for a moment and saw no issues. After asking the client to transfer the deposit, she opened her iPad Pro, connected her drawing tablet, and twirled the Apple Pencil between her slender fingers. After a brief pause to think, inspiration quickly sparked in her mind.

Yu Xian drafted lines swiftly. She was naturally gifted when it came to painting. During her senior year, thanks to a sponsor’s recommendation, she had been able to sit in on an art teacher’s classes to study professional oil painting theory. Unfortunately, she only managed to study for a single semester before someone reported the teacher for letting an untutored student take the classes, nearly costing the teacher their job.

From that point on, she didn’t touch oil painting again for a very long time. Instead, she taught herself digital art on a drawing tablet. Because it was affordable—requiring only a few hundred yuan for a secondhand iPad, an Apple Pencil, and free tutorials on the internet—she was able to reignite her painting dreams.

She didn’t need to buy costly titanium white oil paints, nor did she need to pay for formal classes. Gradually, she went from minor breakthroughs to becoming a master artist with over a million followers, all within just six months.

Yet, oil painting remained the untouchable moonlight in Yu Xian’s heart.

The rough sketch took shape, but Yu Xian suddenly paused, staring blankly at the character draft before her.

For no other reason than that the sketch looked more and more like someone she had known in the past—Ming Ruixi.

Ming Ruixi completely embodied what it meant to be a willful, overbearing young lady steeped in princess syndrome.

Yet, by pure luck, she truly had the life of a princess. Her family wielded massive wealth and influence, spending gold like water while showering Ming Ruixi with endless doting.

Meanwhile, Yu Xian, as her former lackey, was often humiliated by her with money.

Back when Yu Xian could still sit in the art studio learning oil painting, all her paint expenses had come from the tips Ming Ruixi gave her. That was the sole reason she had been willing to run her errands—because the pay was real.

Even so, she would likely never forget the sight of Ming Ruixi crossing her arms with an untouchable, haughty demeanor, ordering others to tear her canvas, knock over her easel, and kick over her palette.

All because she had painted a portrait of Eldest Miss Ming.

The art teacher had assigned the students a portrait practice exercise, and for reasons unknown, Yu Xian had painted Ming Ruixi during that session. The moment class ended, she received an order from the young lady to leave campus and buy her Häagen-Dazs. When she returned, she walked right into the scene of Ming Ruixi and her entourage destroying the painting in the art studio.

“You’re nothing more than my little errand girl. Who do you think you are, daring to paint me? And you made me look so hideous—who gave you the nerve?”

After scolding her, Ming Ruixi tossed the Häagen-Dazs Yu Xian had bought directly onto the ruined canvas, treating it like filthy mud.

Yu Xian swallowed her grievance. Satisfied, the young lady strutted out of the studio with her chin up, the bell around her ankle chiming—bright, cheerful, and dripping with irony.

…

Snapping back to the present, Yu Xian deleted the sketch and shook her head. It was all in the past. She hadn’t seen that young lady in four or five months; the moment they graduated, they parted ways for good.

Ming Ruixi continued living as an esteemed, wealthy heiress, while Yu Xian settled down peacefully in a small Jiangnan water town—Xiangling Town—opening a small inn and living a tranquil, unhurried life.

There was no way that woman could ever humiliate her again.

Yu Xian set out to draw a new design with princess syndrome. The pen tip landed on the blank canvas, gliding across with soft, rustling strokes.

Eyes, nose, mouth…

As the draft’s details emerged bit by bit, Yu Xian frowned as she realized the drawing was once again drifting toward the likeness of Eldest Miss Ming.

The same beauty mark on the right side of the nose, radiant yet seductive, looking more and more like Ming Ruixi.

Out of everyone Yu Xian had ever encountered, Ming Ruixi was the only person whose princess syndrome had left an indelible mark on her mind. It was no surprise the drawing kept turning into her.

The deadline for the commission was ten days. Yu Xian decided to put it aside for the moment and go out for a walk to clear her mind and search for inspiration.

…

The buildings in Xiangling Town featured white walls and dark tiles, mostly one or two stories high, arranged neatly along the waterways. A river meandered through the center of the town, where getting around required boats. The arched bridges possessed an antique charm, picturesque as a traditional landscape painting.

Yu Xian disliked crowded places, so her small inn sat at the foot of a mountain facing an open road, requiring about a ten-minute walk to reach Xiangling Town proper.

Just outside Xiangling Town stood a café with wide, expansive views overlooking the distant mountain ridges and boundless rice paddies. Yu Xian would occasionally spend an entire afternoon there, immersing herself in the local culture and scenery.

“A cup of Blue Mountain, please.”

“Certainly, please give us a moment.”

Yu Xian ordered a cup of coffee and took a seat by the side. Just as she sat down, she heard a guest not far away order a cup of Blue Mountain as well.

Before long, the coffee was served. Yu Xian thanked the waiter, but just as she took a sip, the customer who had ordered the same coffee started arguing with the server.

The customer said, “I said no milk. Why did you add milk?”

The waiter apologized repeatedly: “But you specifically said you wanted milk just now, and I even made a special note of it for you.”

The customer grew furious: “Impossible! I’ve never liked milk, so why on earth would I ask you to add it?! Where is your manager? I want to make a complaint!”

The commotion soon drew the attention of onlookers. The manager rushed over and, after much pleading and persuasion, finally managed to quell the dispute. Once the customer was pacified, the manager turned around and scolded the server, deducting the cost of the coffee from her wages.

Yu Xian heard every single word. Looking down at the coffee in her hand, a similar scene from her past began to unfurl before her eyes.

Yu Xian was an orphan, able to complete her schooling only thanks to a benefactor’s sponsorship. After entering university, she chose to work part-time while studying to support herself.

Once, while working as a waitress at a café, she found herself serving Eldest Miss Ming, who arrived surrounded by an entourage—glamorous, radiant, and flamboyant. The moment she entered, she became the center of attention, sitting down with noble elegance and demanding that Yu Xian take her order.

That woman never lacked flatterers. At the time, she had another lackey by her side named Cheng Yi. As Yu Xian approached with the menu, she overheard Cheng Yi bringing up that painting again in front of Eldest Miss Ming, saying how anyone could have made their young lady look so hideous, and that Yu Xian had truly crossed the line.

Art was inherently subjective—especially oil painting. Yu Xian couldn’t refute their claims of it being “ugly,” so she could only accept the blame and remind herself never to paint Eldest Miss Ming again; someone like her had no right to paint a princess.

Yu Xian walked over to take Ming Ruixi’s order. The heiress asked for a blueberry juice. Yu Xian returned to the counter, entered it into the system, and brought it over shortly after.

Yet, the moment the drink was served, Eldest Miss Ming suddenly changed her tune. Smiling faintly, she claimed she had clearly ordered grapefruit juice, asking why she had been brought blueberry instead.

Yu Xian tried to explain that blueberry juice had indeed been ordered, but she had forgotten that what Eldest Miss Ming hated most was defiance and contradiction. Right in front of her, Ming Ruixi summoned the manager and told him that Yu Xian was incompetent at her job.

The outcome, naturally, was that Eldest Miss Ming left in high spirits, surrounded by her doting clique, while Yu Xian was fined by the manager—working the entire day for nothing.

The sun dipped behind the distant mountaintops. Xiangling Town at dusk was bathed in a golden glow, spilling light across the bluestone pavers outside the café.

Her coffee finished, Yu Xian pulled herself from the memories, paid the bill, and decided it was time to head back.

A handful of scattered tourists strolled along the street in front of the café, and occasional backpackers on mountain bikes stopped nearby to buy a bottle of water.

“Buy a doll, young lady.”

An elderly woman called out to Yu Xian. Looking over, Yu Xian’s attention was instantly captured by the dazzling array of plush dolls. The old woman’s cart held an openwork wooden rack covered entirely with cloth dolls.

Red, pink, blue… some wore dresses, some wore pants, and others were in overalls… every color and style of doll was exquisitely crafted and adorable, each no larger than a palm.

Yu Xian’s gaze immediately locked onto a little girl doll wearing a white dress with her hair styled in a bun. A sudden flash of inspiration struck, and a new concept for the princess syndrome character began taking shape in her mind—one that no longer resembled Eldest Miss Ming.

“Grandma, how much is this one?” Yu Xian asked, preparing to buy it.

The old woman’s withered lips moved slightly as if to speak, but in the end, she turned and pulled a small bronze bell tied with a red string from an old white cloth bag. She said, “The dolls are t-twenty-five yuan each, and they come with a free little bell.”

Yu Xian had often seen this elderly doll vendor before, and there had never been a free bell included. Business had likely been slow with few dolls selling, prompting the grandmother to come up with the idea of giving away a bell as a gift.

Yet the moment Yu Xian saw the bell and heard its crisp ring echo in her ears, memories of Eldest Miss Ming uncontrollably rushed back to her.

Eldest Miss Ming had loved bells, wearing a delicate little bell tied around her ankle. With every step she took, it chimed like a silver bell—a faint, subtle sound that wouldn’t normally stand out.

To someone like Yu Xian, who was exceptionally sensitive to sound, even the faintest noise was impossible to miss. Yu Xian suffered from mild misophonia, making her hypersensitive to sharp, chaotic sounds like honking car horns in the city; prolonged exposure left her anxious and distressed, and the sound of bells did the same.

For a long time, she had lived under the physical and mental torment inflicted by Eldest Miss Ming.

Seeing Yu Xian stand still, the old woman assumed she found the price too steep. The price couldn’t go much lower, but after a moment’s hesitation, wanting to make the sale, she knocked off five yuan anyway: “I’ll give it to you for twenty. What do you think, miss?”

Snapping back to reality, Yu Xian took out twenty-five yuan and handed it to her. “Grandma, twenty-five is already a very good price.”

The old woman looked surprised, and the wrinkles on her face instantly blossomed into a wide smile. She said “thank you” twice in succession as she took the money.

“Take the bell, miss. It’s a gift, no charge.”

Yu Xian hadn’t taken the bell, but the old woman called her back and insisted on pressing it into her hands.

Yu Xian looked at her, then down at the bell in her palm, knowing it was offered with pure kindness. It was the first day the old woman was trying out her new sales idea; perhaps she simply needed validation from someone.

“Alright. Thank you, Grandma.”

Accepting the bell and cradling it in her palm, Yu Xian began her leisurely walk back to her small inn.