Betrayal

Before my grandmother passed away, she left me three brocade pouches.

“On the seventh day after my death, give these to the seventh person who offers incense.”

On the day of the funeral, I followed her instructions to the letter. When the man who received them opened the brocade pouch, his face turned pale with terror, and he fled in a panic.

It wasn’t until later that I learned the man was a rapist and a murderer.

He had intended to target me that very night.

The first brocade pouch was filled with his criminal record.

She told me to open the second brocade pouch before I got married and consummated the union.

This time, the brocade pouch felt very thin.

Inside, there was only one word.

“RUN!!!”

On the third day after being diagnosed with Stomach Cancer, I chose a grave for myself.

They say the feng shui is especially good.

It’s supposed to bless me so that in my next life, I won’t be the real daughter everyone despises.

No one will steal my parents, my brother, or everything else from me.

No longer… unloved.

I burned my photos and clothes, erased every trace of my existence.

Then I slit my wrists, lay down in the bathtub, and waited peacefully for death.

But then the Cemetery Center suddenly called me:

“Miss Lu, we’re terribly sorry.”

“Two Agents accidentally sold the same plot.”

“This grave was also sold to another gentleman.”

“Would you… mind moving your grave?”

It was the eighth year of my unrequited love for Shen Sui, and he still refused to acknowledge me as his fiancée.

He had me pulled from the red carpet just to please his Little Canary.

In front of the media, the same mouth that had kissed me a thousand times claimed that we were nothing more than ordinary friends.

Later, I looked him in the eye and said seriously:

“Don’t pull away. Otherwise, we won’t look like ordinary friends.”

His eyes rimmed with red, and his voice trembled as he spoke:

“I’m just an ‘ordinary friend’ to you?”

On the night I was crowned Empress, Lu Yuheng personally handed me a cup of Poisoned Wine. He said that since the Ye Family’s name had been cleared, I should spend one night as a glorious Empress before going to meet my kin with a clean slate. But what he didn’t know was that the most painful wound of my life was never death-it was him.

My husband holds the highest office in the land, and I am the most virtuous noblewoman in all of Shangjing.

The wives of the capital’s officials all claim I am blessed with good fortune, yet they have no idea that I have been neglected by him for years, my heart heavy with misery.

He finds me dull and is deeply in love with his concubines, with whom he has both sons and daughters.

Finally, after my mother-in-law had expressed her disdain for my inability to conceive countless times, I found myself pregnant.

But Cheng Wenting nearly lost his mind.

With bloodshot eyes, his hand trembled uncontrollably as he choked me. “Whose child is it?”

A gentle smile played on my lips. “My Lord, it is yours, of course.”

Six years after our divorce, I ran into my ex-husband on a street corner while holding my three-year-old daughter.

He stared blankly at the girl in my arms for a long time before knitting his brows. “She’s almost six years old,” he said, his voice laced with accusation. “Why does she look so thin and small?”

Ha!

He actually thought the child I was holding was his.

I suppose he believed I loved him so deeply that even after he cheated and divorced me, I would have gone off and raised his child all on my own.

In the third year of my marriage to my childhood sweetheart,

I happened to stumble across an old post he’d written.

In it, he talked about being forced to part from the person he truly loved, and how he had “no choice” but to marry the girl-next-door childhood friend.

And I just so happened to be that childhood friend in his story.

In his tragic little romance, I was the obstacle standing between the male and female leads.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I found the plane tickets hidden in the drawer by Lin Yuezhou.

I thought he was planning a surprise for me, but when evening came, all I got was a sentence: he was going on a business trip.

Unable to sleep, I scrolled through social media and saw his first love’s post:

[Eighteen-year-old wish list-Go to Iceland with the one I love most to see the aurora. Today, it finally came true!]

The photo showed her kissing Lin Yuezhou under the northern lights.

I didn’t cry, nor did I message him to question anything.

After chasing after him for so many years, I’m truly exhausted.

On Xu Anran’s wedding day, my lover jumped from the eighteenth floor.

When I opened the door to his studio, it was filled with portraits of Xu Anran.

The brushstrokes were rough and intense, yet carried the fervor of his boundless love.

A friend said, “Shen Qingqie loved Anran for ten years. She was his only light.”

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Shen Qingqie being cornered by the school bully in the classroom. I silently closed the door.

Later, he knocked on my window in the rain, his voice hoarse and full of despair.

“Ranran, don’t you want me anymore…?”

When I was eighteen, I didn’t dare push open that door. Behind it, my best friend was playing adult games with the male writer I secretly loved.

I remembered that moment for ten long years. In that decade, my friend died, the writer stopped writing, and my life was ruined.

I respectfully composed a letter and mailed it to the man I had once loved from afar: Chen Song.