Misunderstandings

I was meant to marry the Emperor of Great Liang, but a decree for a political marriage sent me to Northern Yan instead.

On our wedding night, I mixed blood from the tip of my tongue into the wedding wine, intending to poison the tyrannical prince.

Yet, he drained the poisoned cup for me and said with a smile, “Don’t be in such a hurry. The heads of every official in this court-I will cut them off for you, one by one.”

I had been nursing a secret crush on Zhuang Jinyu for five years.

My home was filled with life-sized dolls made in his likeness.

While on a business trip, Zhuang Jinyu was caught in a mudslide and ended up comatose in the hospital.

I was wailing his name, sobbing uncontrollably after seeing the news, when a voice drifted down from above me.

It was a lazy, haughty voice, delivered with a biting tone I knew all too well.

“What are you screaming for? Trying to wake the dead?”

My crying jagged to a halt. I spun around in terror. The tall, exquisitely crafted doll standing behind me had actually come to life.

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.

While recovering from an illness in Jiangnan, I had a brief, passionate affair with a scholar.

When it was time for me to return to the capital, I left him a hundred ounces of gold and a letter.

“My mother doesn’t approve of our marriage. It’s better if we part ways.” Two years later, he earned honors in the imperial examinations.

When we met again, his face was clouded with a dark, brooding intensity.

“Was the ‘mother’ you spoke of actually your mother-in-law?”

My husband absolutely loathed his new graduate student.

He even went so far as to cause a scene in front of the Dean, demanding that she be transferred to another research group.

He claimed she was morally corrupt and a disgrace to academia.

That was, until the fire alarm went off. His custom-made suit was soaked through as he draped it over her head.

He pushed past me, carrying her in his arms like a princess as he rushed down the stairs.

Three years after my death, Zhou Jibai won his first Best Actor award.

At the awards ceremony, the host asked, “At this moment, do you have any words you’d like to share?”

Zhou Jibai dialed a number, but no one picked up. A mocking smile played on his lips. “On the day we broke up, someone told me that if I ever won Best Actor, she would jump off the eighteenth floor.”

“Why is she afraid to answer the phone now? She didn’t actually jump, did she?” I was currently floating right beside him, trying to touch that trophy, but I nearly choked back to life at those words.

… Zhou Jibai, how rude can you get?

The West Coast-style video I filmed of my son has gone viral.

But I’m not the one who’s famous.

It’s my son.

Netizens recognized him at a glance as a mini version of Liang Jingnian.

That man is the head of Xiyue Group and the renowned Crown Prince of the Jing Circle.

The more the internet dug, the more they found.

They even unearthed a video of Liang Jingnian and me breaking up, leading everyone to conclude that I’m the ex-girlfriend who ran away with his child.

I sighed. They’ve got it all wrong.

Liang Jingnian and I weren’t just dating-we were actually married.

I was dating eight boyfriends at the same time.

They all treated me as a stand-in for someone else.

But I didn’t care.

As long as the money was right, they were all my precious darlings.

Later, they found out about each other.

And they absolutely lost it.

I picked up my boyfriend’s phone by mistake, only to see a message his ex had just sent: “I forgot to take the morning-after pill that night.”

Those few short words left me chilled to the bone.

The night before last, I had a sudden bout of acute gastroenteritis. He was supposedly working overtime at the office, and I called him over a dozen times, but I couldn’t get through.

Enduring the piercing pain, I eventually took a taxi to the hospital alone at three in the morning.

As it turns out, the reason his phone was off and he never came home that night was that he was with his ex-girlfriend.

I had been with my boyfriend for three years.

During that time, I discovered that his handle on every social media platform was July.

I assumed he simply had a deep-seated love for the romantic month of July, so I never pried into it.

It wasn’t until our wedding day, when his ex-girlfriend sent a gift, that I saw the name signed on the box-

Qi Yue.

In that moment, I finally understood. It wasn’t the month of July he cherished; it was Qi Yue.

My heart sank into an abyss…