I waited bitterly for Qu Huang for three years, only to receive a letter of divorce.
When the message arrived, I was still wiping down his bedridden mother.
It was March, and the late spring cold had returned, yet I was drenched in sweat from exhaustion.
My hands shook so badly I could barely take the thin silk letter the attendant handed me.
“Where is my husband?”
“The young master has already arrived in the front hall.”
I sighed, set down the damp towel in my hand, and smoothed back the stray hair at my temples.
“Very well. I’ll go with you.”