I was born cold-blooded.
When my mother died, I stood by her bedside without shedding a single tear.
In the front courtyard, lanterns and streamers were being hung to celebrate my father’s concubine’s birthday.
“Yuntan,” my mother said, “you are just like your father.”
A dying person always carries a certain air of decay.
She stared up at the canopy of her bed and sighed again.
“It is better to be like him… the heartless… always live longer…”
“Do not be like me, trapped in the word ‘love’ for a lifetime. It was a mistake…”
My mother was a loser her entire life.
I never expected that years later, the most reputable and upright gentleman in the capital, Xie Yijue, the Heir to Duke Zhenguo, would come to my door to ask for my hand in marriage.
He had one condition: He wanted to take my younger half-sister, Ji Zhi, into his household alongside me.
