Chapter 1: Wedding Night, Sterile Soup
The red candles were burning brightly, and the sparks from the crackling sound fell on the carpet with gold-painted wedding patterns, and the temperature disappeared in an instant.
Yun Zhi sat on a wedding bed covered with peanuts and longans. The crimson veil hung down, obscuring most of her face, revealing only a hint of her softly defined jawline. Her fingertips clutched the silver embroidery of her wedding gown. The thread depicted twin lotus flowers, the stitches intricate and precise, yet the cold sweat on her palms threatened to darken the thread.
Outside the hall, there was a faint commotion as guests dispersed, but the wedding hall was eerily quiet; even the subtle sound of the agarwood burning in the incense burner could be heard clearly. She had been waiting for nearly an hour, but the man who was supposed to lift her veil, Prince Duan Xiao Jin, had never appeared.
Something felt like it was weighing down her chest, making her feel heavy and uneasy. She knew her status when she married into the family—not a principal wife, not a concubine, not even a maid, but merely a "stand-in." It was because her features bore a resemblance to the late Shen Qingyue, the white moonlight Xiao Jin had yearned for for three years.
Not to mention, she was the daughter of a criminal. Three months ago, the Imperial Tutor's family was convicted overnight, their father executed, their mother committed suicide, and the entire family executed. In the imperial decree, it was Xiao Jin who, for some unknown reason, spoke up to spare her life, but also dragged her into this deeper quagmire—carrying her into the Prince Duan's mansion under the pretext of "bringing good fortune."
With a creaky sound, the palace door was pushed open.
A cold wind blew in, and Yun Zhi subconsciously flinched. Her veil was lifted by a bony hand wearing a black jade ring. The fingertips were icy cold, and even the movements exuded a cold, unyielding firmness.
She raised her eyes and met a pair of bottomless eyes.
Xiao Jin stood before her, wearing a dark, python-patterned uniform. His dark hair was unbound, a few strands cascading across his forehead, making his already handsome face even more stern. But his eyes held none of the tenderness of a groom; instead, they held a chill like an icy blade, piercing straight at her, as if to split her open from the inside out, leaving only the three-quarters of her that resembled Shen Qingyue.
"Raise your head." His voice was low but cold, like the surface of a frozen lake in the cold winter.
Yun Zhi bit her lower lip and slowly raised her head. She knew what she looked like at the moment—her rouge was a bit thick, making the teardrop mole more vivid. But in Xiao Jin's eyes, this was probably just a poor imitation.
As expected, Xiao Jin's gaze swept across her face, finally landing on the teardrop mole at the corner of her eye. His brows knitted slightly, and the disgust in his tone almost overflowed: "It does look somewhat like her, but unfortunately, no matter how similar it is, it's just a fake."
Yun Zhi's heart suddenly tightened, and her fingertips pinched into her palms. The pain made her fingertips numb, but she didn't dare to make a sound.
Xiao Jin didn't look at her again. He turned around and said loudly to the door, "Bring the things up."
Soon, a maid came in with a black lacquer tray. On the tray was a white porcelain bowl filled with dark medicine. The smell of the medicine was strong and pungent, and it made people feel sick to their stomachs.
Yun Zhi's face paled instantly. She had a vague idea of what it was, but her heart still beat uncontrollably, and even her breathing became rapid.
"Do you know what this is?" Xiao Jin picked up the bowl of medicine, walked in front of her, and held the bowl under her nose. The bitter smell rushed straight to her head.
Yun Zhi shrank back, her voice trembling: "Prince...Prince, this is..."
"Infertility Soup." Xiao Jin's voice was calm, as if he was talking about the weather. "Drink it."
"No!" Yun Zhi shook her head violently, tears filling her eyes instantly. "Your Highness, I... I am yours, why do you want me to drink this? I..."
"Your people?" Xiao Jin chuckled as if he had heard something funny, his laughter full of mockery. "Yun Zhi, don't forget your identity. You are a criminal slave of the Taifu Mansion. I kept you by my side as a substitute to commemorate Qingyue. A fake, are you worthy of bearing my offspring?"
His words were like a knife tempered with ice, piercing Yun Zhi's heart again and again, shattering her last shreds of fantasy. She recalled a time when, as a child, her father was still alive, she was flying a kite in the garden of the Imperial Tutor's Mansion and had stumbled upon the young General Xiao Jin, who had come to the palace for a banquet. Back then, he wasn't yet the Prince of Duan. He was clad in silver armor, his eyes brimming with youthful spirit. Though his gaze towards her was indifferent, it didn't hold such a biting chill.
But now, things have changed.
"I won't drink..." Yun Zhi's voice was filled with tears, and her hands tightly grasped the hem of her skirt. "Your Highness, even if I'm a substitute, I'm still a living person. I..."
"A living person?" Xiao Jin's eyes suddenly turned cold. He pinched Yun Zhi's chin, his fingertips exerting force, almost crushing her jawbone. Yun Zhi groaned in pain and was forced to tilt her head back. Her lips were pinched black.
"In my eyes, you are nothing more than a breathing shadow." Xiao Jin held the medicine bowl to her lips, the dark medicine almost splashing on her face. "Drink it, or I will have someone force you to drink it."
Yun Zhi saw the cruelty in his eyes and knew he was true to his word. She struggled, shaking her head from side to side, but he held her chin so tightly that she couldn't move at all. The bitter medicine poured into her lips, burning her throat. The bitterness spread from the tip of her tongue to her heart, as if it was going to pierce her every viscera.
She wanted to vomit, but Xiao Jin's hand firmly pressed the back of her neck, forcing her to swallow the medicine. The bowl of medicine was quickly empty, and Xiao Jin loosened his grip. Yun Zhi collapsed to the ground, her hands supporting her on the cold tiles as she coughed violently. Tears mixed with the medicine dripped from her mouth, and she looked miserable.
Abdominal pain soon came, as if countless needles were pricking her lower abdomen. The pain made her curl up, and her forehead was covered with cold sweat. She looked up and watched Xiao Jin's back as he turned and left. His back was upright but heartless, without a trace of nostalgia.
"Remember." Xiao Jin walked to the palace gate, stopped, and without looking back, his voice as cold as frost, "In this palace, do your duty. Don't dream of replacing Qingyue, and don't even dream of getting even a little bit of pity from this king. You don't deserve it."
The hall door was closed, blocking out all sounds from outside. The only sounds in the wedding hall were the crackling of burning red candles and Yun Zhi's suppressed sobs.
She collapsed on the cold floor, the pain in her lower abdomen growing more intense, as if something was being torn away from her body. The teardrop mole at the corner of her eye was wet with tears, making the bright color even more desolate.
Suddenly, with a soft "pop" sound, the wick of a red candle exploded, and sparks splashed on her wedding dress, burning a small black hole.
Yun Zhi stared at the extinguished spark, her vision darkening. She thought, perhaps from the moment she entered Prince Duan's mansion, her life had been like that spark, destined to burn out in coldness and despair.
But she was unwilling to give up.
She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The taste of blood filled her mouth. Even if she had to be a substitute, even if she had to be a slave, she would live on. One day, she would find out the truth about the injustice in the Imperial Tutor's Mansion, and let Xiao Jin know that she, Yun Zhi, was not a shadow to be trampled upon.
The abdominal pain became more and more severe, and her consciousness gradually blurred. The last thing she saw was the two red candles that were still burning, reflecting the joy in the hall, but not bringing any warmth to her.
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