Volume One, Chapter 9: The Red Veil Is Lifted

Su Zhizhi had long been mentally prepared. She lifted her dress and took a few steps forward until she reached Su Wanwan. Pulling her aside, she leaned in close and whispered, “Sister, I see a dark mark between your eyebrows. It would be best to find a Taoist priest to perform a ritual, lest restless spirits come to trouble you every night.”

“You...” Su Wanwan’s eyes flickered with a hint of fear, her face flushing red.

This look of furious embarrassment was truly amusing.

Su Zhizhi never tired of watching it.

Just as she was about to leave, a hand grabbed her.

“Zhizhi, don’t blame your mother.”

Suddenly, a slap was about to land on Su Zhizhi’s face.

But she caught it with one hand.

If there was anything in the Duke’s Mansion worth her attachment, it was the so-called mother who had cared for her meticulously for sixteen years.

Yet now, it seemed there was nothing left worth clinging to.

“How dare you defy me!” Madam Su, surnamed Li, had not expected a sickly girl to have the strength to resist.

“Su Zhizhi, remember this: there is only one daughter in the Duke’s Mansion—Su Wanwan. If you dare let Wanwan suffer even a little, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

Su Zhizhi glanced up at Su Wanwan’s smug face.

A faint smile curled at the corners of her lips.

She might as well stop pretending.

She was tired of playing the innocent little white rabbit.

With a forceful push, Su Zhizhi sent Madam Li sprawling to the ground with an inexplicable strength.

Just as Su Wanwan was about to shout in reprimand, she was met instead with a resounding slap.

“Su Wanwan, this slap is for all the innocent lives you have taken!”

Su Wanwan’s face burned with shame. In all her years, no one had ever dared treat her like this.

“What? Could the eldest daughter of the Su family really be a murderer?”

“Isn’t Su Wanwan the capital’s most talented young lady? How could she commit murder?”

The onlookers began to whisper among themselves.

Could it be true what the assassin said that day?

Su Heng, seated on the wedding horse, heard it all.

It sounded just like what the leader of the Eternal Bright Pavilion had said.

He had been troubled over this for days; if his own sister were truly a killer, wouldn’t their entire family be complicit?

Su Heng could only remain silent.

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But Su Zhizhi had no intention of ending there. She lowered her voice, firm yet quiet.

“Su Wanwan, you are not yet qualified to challenge me.”

“Hah!” Su Wanwan scoffed furiously. “You sickly wretch, don’t think anyone will believe you just because you’re crazy. Don’t you dare slander an innocent person!”

Su Zhizhi said nothing but pulled a letter from her sleeve.

On the cover, three large characters read: “Letter of Severance.”

The commotion drew the Duke of Su to rush out.

He took the letter from Su Zhizhi and scanned its contents. His brows furrowed, then he threw his head back and laughed loudly.

“To sever ties with the Su family—that’s quite a bold claim. Su Zhizhi, without the Su family, you are nothing!”

He thought that this frail girl wouldn’t last long after marriage.

All the citizens guarding the capital watched closely; the Su family could never be made a laughingstock.

The Duke forced a smile. “Zhizhi, today is your wedding day. Don’t make a fuss.”

He hastily ordered his men to escort Su Zhizhi into the bridal sedan chair.

Once this sickly girl died, and his Wanwan became the crown prince’s consort, the Su family would prosper.

Only after the sedan chair had disappeared into the distance did the Duke breathe a long sigh, then bellow at the gate, “Such bad luck! Quickly wipe away this sickly girl’s blood. And make sure you do it a hundred times!”

“Yes, Your Grace!”

Inside the sedan chair, Su Zhizhi closed her eyes, her heart heavy with sorrow.

This farce must come to an end.

She had always been an outsider in the Su family.

By now, everyone in the household was probably waiting for her to be buried alive.

Having already visited the Jing King’s Mansion ahead of time, she no longer felt anxious.

Leaving the Su family behind, this female demon would finally reveal her true nature.

She wanted wealth, she wanted status, and she wanted a handsome man.

At the thought of the Jing King’s celestial beauty, Su Zhizhi swallowed hard.

Yes, she had always been a hopeless romantic.

Her ideals shaped entirely by appearances.

She knew it wasn’t right, but she couldn’t change—for now.

As the sedan chair came to a gentle stop, Su Zhizhi, veiled in red, was helped down by Qing Zhu.

Two maids from the Jing King’s Mansion followed behind.

Unbeknownst to her, a pair of eyes behind the sedan chair watched her intently.

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The bedridden Princess Huayang astonishingly rose on the Jing King’s wedding day, adorned in a splendid crimson gown.

The servants of the Jing King’s Mansion were not surprised; at the previous eight wedding ceremonies of past princes’ consorts, Princess Huayang had always appeared dressed in red.

Princess Huayang was the only daughter of the great general Jing Ji—Jing Chuwei.

Jing Ji had died in battle against the enemy kingdom of Nanjing.

His wife starved herself for three days and then passed away.

With the general’s death, the army fell into chaos.

To bolster morale—and because the emperor had no daughters—he ordered the Jing King’s mother, the virtuous Consort Xian, to adopt Jing Ji’s orphaned daughter as her own.

Jing Chuwei was granted the title of Princess Huayang, a sign of imperial favor.

Since then, the seven-year-old Jing Chuwei had lived in the Jing King’s Mansion.

At sixteen, she watched helplessly as the Jing King married his first consort, which drove her completely mad.

She refused to allow her brother Xiao to marry any woman besides herself.

Thus, five years past the age of marriage, Princess Huayang remained steadfast in her vow never to wed.

But the Jing King only saw her as a beloved sister and never considered marriage.

After the Jing King fell gravely ill, Princess Huayang wept day and night and became so frail she could barely walk.

Yet upon hearing that her brother was to marry today, she miraculously rose from her bed.

“Brother Xiao is still sick! Why marry this unlucky woman? Today, I will show her what’s what!”

Leading a group of maids, Princess Huayang intended to give the sickly bride a stern lesson.

When the bride was carried down from the sedan chair and helped into the mansion by the maids, Princess Huayang followed.

Already somewhat delirious from her brother’s illness, she laughed twice and, without hesitation, lifted the bride’s red veil.

“No, Your Highness! The veil must be lifted by the prince!” the Jing King’s maid hurriedly protested, panicked and flustered.

“Brother Xiao is unconscious. I will lift the veil for her—what’s the harm?” Princess Huayang declared.

Though an orphan, she had the emperor’s backing and the support of many Wei elders.

The Jing King doted on her, and her mischievous nature was well known.

Princess Huayang was a formidable presence throughout the capital, and no one in the mansion dared oppose her whims.

As the red veil fluttered to the ground, a once-beautiful face was revealed—marred by a scar resembling a writhing worm, as if a splendid flower had been cruelly slashed.

“So you’re Xiao’s ninth consort? Ha! Each of Xiao’s wives is uglier than the last! And these weddings get more and more shabby,” Princess Huayang sneered, her lips curling with cruel delight.

Dressed in a red gown even more dazzling than the bride’s, she laughed wildly.

Su Zhizhi quietly shielded Qing Zhu, who stepped forward to defend her.

She only watched silently.

Observing this princess, orphaned yet blessed by fate, who raged without restraint.

Su Zhizhi felt no embarrassment.

She only saw the bitterness and pain etched between Princess Huayang’s brows.

Taking in her surroundings, at the Jing King’s grand wedding, Su Zhizhi, the second young lady of the Duke’s Mansion, was marrying a living corpse, becoming the laughingstock among the capital’s elite.