Tragedy

The day my interview results came out, I came across a post: “How lethal can a white moonlight really be?”

The top-voted answer had only been posted a little while ago.

“I’ll tell my own story. He had a crush on me in high school, and we ran into each other a few days ago while I was job hunting.”

“Even if I’m not as capable as the others, he’ll still make me the one-in-ten-thousand choice.”

Attached was a graduation photo of them at eighteen.

The girl wore a white dress, her slim back quiet and well-behaved.

The boy had his head turned, looking at her intently, his profile clean and… familiar.

My phone trembled faintly. It was the message rejecting me after the interview.

Only then did I understand. She was Xie Qingyue’s white moonlight-and what she had killed was my future.

I would rather be a tree waiting for spring than a bird that turns back.

I could allow my feelings to fall apart completely.

But my future, my freedom, my life-none of them could afford the slightest mistake.

I’ve read so many novels about the “crematorium” trope-where the husband has to crawl back and beg for forgiveness-but I never expected to find myself starring in one.

Except there’s no chasing, only the crematorium.

Because I’m actually dead.

I’ve become a ghost, watching the man who betrayed me. Seven days after my death, he finally seems crushed by a delayed sense of grief. In the home I can never return to, he howls in agony, acting as if life is no longer worth living.

You want to know how I feel?

I just stand there blankly, carefully admiring every inch of pain etched onto his face.

I listen intently to his desperate wails, triggered by my departure.

Beyond the desolation and heartache in my soul, a massive wave of schadenfreude suddenly wells up within me.

A joyful, blissful sense of schadenfreude.

It’s a sensation so sharp it borders on thrill. I cover my mouth and begin to laugh.

My husband was sick and dying.

But before he died, he insisted on divorcing me.

He transferred every asset under his name, including the company, to me and left himself without a penny.

The night we signed the divorce agreement, he held me and cried like his heart was being ripped out.

He said this was the last thing he could do for me. He didn’t want me, after his death, to become the widow everyone pitied-the woman whose husband had died.

It was his one and only wish before he passed. As the wife who loved him so deeply, how could I possibly refuse?

The night before we were supposed to pick up the divorce certificate, he suddenly fell into a coma and was rushed to the hospital.

The doctor issued a critical condition notice.

And I signed the consent form to forgo treatment without hesitation.

They couldn’t save my husband. He died on that rain-lashed night.

I turned away, wiped the tears from my eyes, and tore the divorce agreement to shreds with a smile.

That same night, I called the funeral home. Before dawn broke, I had him sent into the cremator and burned down to a handful of ash.

After our entire household was seized, My Lady became pregnant with our enemy’s child.

“What does a mere blood feud over a murdered father amount to?”

Faced with my disbelieving question, she gently stroked her swollen belly.

Her face was full of happiness.

The day she died, a heavy snowfall blanketed the capital, sealing the city gates.

When the eunuch came to report the news, I was drinking in Noble Consort Liu’s palace.

I simply said, “Understood.”

It wasn’t until that cup of plum blossom wine-the one meant for our reconciliation-seared through my chest that I finally understood.

She had waited ten years, but she was never waiting for me to have a change of heart. She was waiting for me to die with her.

Three years after Lin Wan’s death, I found the record of her seven years of love for me tucked away in an old cardboard box.

The last page still carried the smell of medicine, where she asked if, in the next life, I could be the one to love her first. That night, I finally understood that the cruelest thing I had ever done was to let someone waste away to death without ever once looking back at her.

On our wedding day, he left me alone at the venue and disappeared.

Four months pregnant, I called him again and again.

At first, he simply didn’t answer. Later, his phone was turned off completely.

Whispers began to rise around me.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen a groom run away from his own wedding.”

“Shotgun marriages never involve decent people. No wonder he doesn’t want her.”

I stood in the wind, at a complete loss, trying over and over to reassure the guests as they left one after another.

All day long, I waited like a fool on that street corner. Even after everyone had gone, he still never appeared.

An auntie nearby muttered without thinking, “Jiang Shen looks like your father’s ex-wife’s son. Don’t tell me he came to get revenge on you.”

On the way back, those words kept echoing through my mind.

Lost and dazed, my car collided with a truck. My four-month-old child and I were buried beneath the wreckage.

Zhou Xingzhi was disfigured while saving the woman he truly loved. In the hospital, I cried my heart out, my sobs echoing through the halls.

I kept pestering the doctor, asking over and over if his face could be fixed.

Everyone thought I was hopelessly in love with him.

Only Zhou Xingzhi’s younger brother handed me a tissue, a smirk playing on his lips. “Sister-in-law, my brother’s face is beyond saving.” “You might as well choose me instead. After all, my face looks much more like Wei Qiao’s now than my brother’s does.”

After my eldest sister took her own life, her marriage to the Heir of the Marquis of Changping was passed down to my second sister.

After my second sister took her own life, the original betrothal landed on my head.

Less than half a year after marrying into Changping Marquis Manor, I wanted to take my own life too.

Just as I was hesitating over whether to hang myself like my eldest sister or swallow gold like my second sister, the heir returned from disaster relief.

And he brought back a concubine.

I looked at the delicate, beautiful concubine and nearly wept with joy.

Wonderful. In this grand, suffocating mansion, I was finally not the only unlucky one anymore.

The Seventh Prince became an outcast.

For four years, I followed him as his servant, never leaving his side through thick and thin.

Later, he ascended to the highest position in the land.

Everyone thought my days of suffering were finally over and my rewards were at hand.

But then, the New Emperor took the Chancellor’s Only Daughter as his Empress.

Some sighed with pity; others watched for the drama to unfold.

Yet, not a single ripple of emotion stirred in my heart.

Because the one I love was never him to begin with.