My father’s wife always said she treated me as her own daughter.
Whenever she went out, she insisted I accompany her—an unpaid bodyguard.
When the Empress wanted to raise me at the palace, she refused on my behalf.
All a girl needed, she said, was a good husband who would cherish her.
I ruined both hands saving her son.
She still refused to register me as her legitimate daughter, saying only shallow families cared about birth status.
She would find me a fine young man someday.
When marriage was finally discussed, she cited my mother’s low birth and my damaged hands, and persuaded Father to marry me to his old nurse’s grandson.
The nurse despised my mother.
My husband took no interest in household affairs.
They tormented me to death.
When I opened my eyes again, it was the morning of the day I had saved my little brother.
