chapter 2

Father forbade me from seeing Mother’s corpse. He locked himself in with Mother, and everyone said Father had gone mad.

It wasn’t until five days later, after not taking a drop of water, that he emerged from the room, emaciated, and began to prepare Mother’s funeral in an orderly manner.

Father had grown much thinner, but somehow even more handsome.

On the day of Mother’s funeral, the Third Princess arrived at our home, lavishly dressed and adorned. She was beautiful, radiant as the morning glow, the most stunning woman in all of Changan.

Her noble status was evident in every gesture and word, carrying an innate arrogance. Yet the moment she saw Father, all of that vanished, leaving only the inexplicable flutter of a young girl’s heart.

Father responded flawlessly, and even the occasional polite remark from him would bring a constant smile to the corners of the Princess’s lips.

That night, after seeing the Princess off, Father gripped my shoulders, crouched down, and looked up at me, asking, “Did you get a good look at the Third Princess’s face?”

I nodded. I was still young then, but for the first time, I understood what hatred was.

Father’s expression did not change. “In the future, Father will peel off that face and make it into the drumhead of a rattle-drum for you. Do you want it?”

I shook my head, smiling sweetly. “No need for Father to give it to me. I can make it myself.”

Father smiled with satisfaction.