Josei

My betrothed had become entangled in a love affair in Yangzhou.

The woman was a courtesan named Li Pengpeng, the most celebrated beauty in the city’s pleasure quarters.

She bought her freedom and stood alone outside the Xie family’s ancestral residence, waiting in silence for an entire month before she was finally granted an audience with Old Madam Xie.

In the end, a sedan chair carried her into a house on Four Wells Lane.

When I reached the capital, I happened to hear that she and Xie Shijing had held a proper wedding feast.

They went everywhere together, basking in their newfound glory.

Though only his mistress, she enjoyed all the privileges of a lawful wife.

Everyone in Shangjing was watching for my humiliation.

Occasionally someone voiced indignation on my behalf, but other voices soon drowned them out.

Some busybodies even opened a betting pool, wagering that I would swallow the insult.

After all, the Song family of Luochuan had long since fallen from its former standing, while the Xies were a pillar of the imperial court.

On the day the betting began, I went alone to the Xie family’s principal residence, just as Li Pengpeng had done.

I had not come to demand justice.

I had come to end the engagement.

Xie Shijing was unworthy of being my husband.

Seven years after he forced me into marriage, my domineering CEO husband fell in love with someone else.

I wasn’t worried.

His sister, on the other hand, was so anxious she burst into tears.

“If you get divorced, what are Song Yu and I supposed to do?”

Song Yu.

The name sounded so familiar.

He was, if I remembered correctly, the childhood sweetheart I’d been dating before I married Gu Zeyan.

When my mother married Wang the Mute, she was already carrying me.

Everyone in the neighborhood had advice for him.

Some told him to get rid of the bastard with a strong dose of medicine.

Others told him to write a divorce letter and throw my mother out.

Wang only smiled, turned around, and sent for the best midwife for miles.

Then I was born.

My husband found my long-lost cousin in a brothel, dying of a venereal disease.

She took one look at my happy life and decided I had stolen it from her.

I was never an impostor: my mother had given me to my grieving aunt in adoption when I was five.

For nine years, I had been made to soothe a woman who resented my happiness.

Now my husband expected me to sacrifice myself for my cousin too.

I was done paying for everyone else’s guilt.

This time, I would take what they owed me—and leave with my daughter.

The day I decided not to get married, Chen Shuo was at the market buying a bass.

He sent me a photo and asked, “This one’s nine hundred grams.

Too big?

Mum said you liked it steamed.”

I stared at the fish lying in its plastic basket for ten or fifteen seconds, then replied, “Chen Shuo, let’s not register our marriage next week.”

He probably thought I was stressed about the wedding again.

After a while, he replied, “Sure.

We can push it back.

You’ve been busy with your project lately anyway, haven’t you?”

I said, “I don’t mean push it back.”

There was nothing from him for two minutes.

“What do you mean?”

I put my phone facedown on my desk and didn’t answer.

At 4:27 that afternoon, I was sitting in a windowless meeting room with a final account for a construction project worth forty-seven million yuan spread out before me.

The printer kept spitting out paper next door.

The air vent hummed overhead.

My supervisor, Wei, was arguing with the contractor’s people over a hundred and seventy thousand yuan in additional works claims.

Everything was ordinary.

So ordinary it hardly seemed like the afternoon a woman had decided to cancel her wedding.

No one had been caught cheating.

There had been no slap, no other woman, no sudden revelation of anyone’s true colours.

Chen Shuo hadn’t betrayed me.

He was, by most standards, a decent man.

He didn’t smoke, didn’t throw money around, wasn’t violent, and had no interest in going out for what men called “a night with the boys.”

If you drew up a job specification for a suitable husband, he’d score eighty-five out of a hundred.

So everyone asked me, “Then why on earth won’t you marry him?”

That turned out to be the hardest question to answer.

Because when an adult truly wants to leave a relationship, there often isn’t one devastating piece of evidence against the other person.

Just one small bill after another.

And suddenly you realise that, for seven years, every one of those bills has had your name on it.

To gain the protection of a powerful family, I tried every trick I knew on a distant cousin whose connection to me was tenuous at best.

My impeccably aloof cousin merely said, “Have some self-respect.”

Later, when I decided to set my sights elsewhere, he regretted it.

Cui Zheyu pinned me against a wall and kissed me, his dark eyes unreadable.

“You think you can stir up my feelings and then run?

Too late.”

After seven years together and more than seven hundred breakups, my ex wanted us to drink a potion that would make us forget each other.

Worried it might taste bitter, he took the first sip.

Then he looked at me as though we had never met—and decided he wanted me all over again.

When he poured away my glass, he had no idea what I had put in it.

Or so I thought.

After I was brought back to the household as its true-born daughter, my parents were full of guilt, and my brother doted on me.

Even the girl who had taken my place was truly kind and virtuous.

Tears on her lovely face, she knelt and bowed her head to me.

“I took your place and left you to suffer all those years.”

I smiled and said it was all right.

Then, before long, I ended up in the pond with her impeccably virtuous fiancé.

I was a midwife.

Up in the hills, I found a pregnant woman.

She claimed to be the wife of the Marquis of Yongning.

She begged me to save her, promising to repay me a hundredfold.

I said nothing and quietly took her home.

To everyone else, she was my cousin, a rich merchant’s concubine who had come to me for shelter.

Because I had just returned from the Yongning estate.

Where I had delivered the marchioness’s baby.

The Noble Consort told me she had traveled here from another world, and that we were all characters in a novel.

She was the heroine, I was the wicked second female lead, and the emperor was the hero.

She was determined to win him over.

Sure enough, she took his undivided favor, then my authority over the palace women.

She even wanted my throne as empress.

“What do you have to rely on but a man’s affection?”

I had finally had enough.

This woman from another world had no power whatsoever.

How dared she reach for my position?

“A sparrow is still a sparrow.

Even if I gave up this phoenix’s nest, could you hold it?”

My ancestors had helped found the dynasty.

My great-grandfather had saved an emperor’s life and received the extraordinary honor of burial in the imperial mausoleum.

My father had inherited the title of duke, and my elder brother was now a chancellor of the first rank.

“You call this ‘palace intrigue,’ do you?

Then let us see what you have to pit against me.”