His words struck her like thunder from a clear sky, leaving her frozen and dumbfounded.
“With a face like yours, how dare you covet another woman’s husband? Don’t you feel ashamed?”
“Ugly people really do make the most trouble! You think you’re worthy of anyone?”
Her lips trembled, but no words came out to defend herself.
“With that face, even if you die, no one would bother to collect your body!”
“Tang Peiqian’s luck must have run dry for eight lifetimes to have caught your attention!”
“If I looked like you, I’d rather bash my head and die!”
A ringing filled Fang Linchun’s ears, as if wind were howling through them. The hatred and resentment that had built in her heart for years now surged up, nearly drowning her in fury.
Jar after jar of the wine she had painstakingly brewed was carried away; her carefully arranged, cozy little home was ransacked and stripped bare.
She didn’t want to endure anymore.
What had she done wrong?
Was it her choice to look this way?
If she could, she would have given anything for that fire never to have happened — the fire that destroyed her body, her face, her dignity, and took away her loving parents.
Had she done wrong?
No. She hadn’t.
If there was fault to be found, it was only that she had allowed their insults again and again, never daring to fight back.
Her hatred burst like wildfire, threatening to burn away her sanity.
Bang!
Fang Linchun, who could often lift wine vats meant for three men, summoned her strength and threw off Gu Feng, slamming him to the ground.
“…”
The men who had been jeering at her froze, wide-eyed in disbelief — not only because she had flung Gu Feng away, but because she had dared to fight back at all.
Fire burned in Fang Linchun’s chest. She grabbed the wine bottle beside her and smashed it toward them.
The rich fragrance of wine filled the air, and the sound of shattering glass jolted them out of their stupor.
“What are you waiting for!? If we don’t beat her to death today, I’ll write my name backward!” Gu Feng roared.
But the others hesitated. They were afraid — afraid of her wild strength, afraid of the ferocity of someone long oppressed who had finally snapped.
Fang Linchun caught the wrist of the man swinging at her, twisted with all her strength, then let go abruptly, sending him flying.
She seized the wooden door latch and swung it at them with reckless force. The air filled with the sound of splintering wood and pained cries.
How could a few pampered young masters, wasted by wine and women, withstand someone hardened by years of manual labor? In moments, they were all on the ground, groaning and begging for mercy.
Fang Linchun stopped, panting, glaring coldly at them.
“I have no quarrel with you. I never seduced the man you speak of, yet you insulted me again and again and tried to steal my family’s wine recipe. You deserve this beating!”
“If you promise never to trouble me again, I’ll let you go — I won’t beat you to death. Otherwise, I’ll take you down with me!”
“We promise, we promise!” Wei Lai cried, terrified of pain, eager to yield.
Fang Linchun, trembling from the adrenaline, still gripped the wooden beam tightly, her hands shaking.
“Get out of my sight!”
She turned back toward her wine shop, just as she let down her guard.
They ambushed her.
Outnumbered, she was dragged down, her limbs pinned, her face shoved into a vat of her own wine.
“How’s that? Does your own wine taste good?” Gu Feng mocked, his bones aching from her blows, rage boiling in his chest.
Fang Linchun pushed against the vat’s rim, gasping desperately for air.
“Hold her hands and feet down!”
Glug glug…
The strong liquor burned her throat like fire, choking her, drowning her.
“Stop it!”
Another thunderous voice broke through.
Gu Feng winced. That voice gave him a headache — again.
He turned. Sure enough, it was him — his soon-to-be cousin-in-law.
“Tch. Tang Peiqian, must you meddle in everything? Even if you’re my cousin’s fiancé, don’t think I won’t hit you!”
“Aren’t you worried I’ll tell Miss He about your crimes?” Tang Peiqian’s tone was cold but fearless.
“Whose side are you on, Tang Peiqian?” Gou Ting shouted angrily. “Aren’t you the He family’s son-in-law? If you know what’s good for you, turn a blind eye and stop pretending to be a hero!”
“I only stand on the side of reason,” Tang Peiqian said quietly. “If you were in the right, I’d help you. But you’re not.”
“You stubborn fool!”
Chen Quanhai restrained Gou Ting, then smirked, as if realizing something. “Tang Peiqian… don’t tell me you like this ugly woman?”
“…” Tang Peiqian flushed, lips pressing tightly together. His eyes flicked to Fang Linchun, who was gasping in Gu Feng’s grip. Then he shouted, furious, “There’s nothing improper between me and Miss Fang! Don’t taint others with your filthy thoughts!”
“…” Fang Linchun’s eyelashes trembled.
“Heh.”
“Gu Feng, release her right now, or I’ll tell Miss He everything myself!”
“…” Gu Feng cursed under his breath, glaring at him darkly. “Fine! You’re really something!”
With a harsh laugh, he threw Fang Linchun to the ground.
“This is the last time I’ll give you face. If I hear even a whisper about this from Hui’er, I’ll come for you first!”
The others stretched their aching limbs, shooting Tang Peiqian venomous looks before storming out.
“Miss Fang, are you alright?”
Tang Peiqian bent to help her up. Seeing her weak breathing and trembling lashes, he said, “Miss Fang, I’ll go get a doctor.”
“No—don’t go…” Fang Linchun gripped his hand tightly. Perhaps her courage hadn’t yet drained away, because for the first time, she looked at him clearly.
He was fair and handsome, with dark brows that slanted toward his temples, bright phoenix eyes like gemstones, a high nose bridge, and lips neither thin nor harsh — lips tinted faintly red, gentle, expressive. His eyes held concern for her.
Gathering her courage, she asked, “Young Master Tang… what they said — is it true?”
“…Yes.” He hesitated but couldn’t lie. He nodded.
“…”
Her lips parted, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask “why.”
“When?”
Tang Peiqian was silent for a long moment. “…The beginning of next month.”
“…Congratulations.” Fang Linchun managed a fragile smile, genuine yet broken.
“Thank you.”
He helped her back into the ruined tavern, clearing a small clean space for her to sit.
“Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”
“It’s nothing. If you have other matters, you should go.”
She was barely holding in the storm of emotion inside, forcing herself to sound calm.
Tang Peiqian glanced around, then said softly, “This place is a mess, and you’re hurt. Let me help you clean it up.”
“No need—”
Before she could finish, he had already taken a broom and stepped outside, ignoring her protest.
“…”
Unable to sit still, she rose to help. As she tried to lift a fallen wine jar, the loosened ties of her mask slipped. With a clatter, the jar fell, spilling wine everywhere.
“Miss Fang, what happened?” Tang Peiqian turned at the noise, worried.
“Don’t come any closer!”
Panicked, Fang Linchun couldn’t bend fast enough to pick up the mask.
A pair of pale, slender hands reached down, picked it up, and held it out to her.
“…” Her mind almost shattered. “Don’t look at me!”
“You’re beautiful.”
“…” She stared blankly at him holding her mask, a short, bitter laugh escaping her. She couldn’t tell if he meant to comfort her—or to mock her.
“Linchun,” he said gently, “your soul’s beauty far outshines your appearance.”
Tang Peiqian tightened the mask’s ribbon, reaching behind her head to tie it. A faint scent of ink surrounded her, filling her senses.
“Linchun, lift your head. Look at me.”
“…” She didn’t understand why he wanted this, but she obeyed dazedly.
“You’re far more beautiful than you believe. Don’t care what others say.”
“What… do you mean by that?” she whispered, her gaze desperate.
Perhaps his words gave the last ember of courage in her heart one final spark. She caught the hand that lingered by her cheek.
“Miss Fang?”
“…”
His warmth burned her like a brand, pushing her back to herself.
“It’s nothing…” she murmured, releasing his hand and forcing a faint smile.
She didn’t know when he left. Fang Linchun sat alone in the wrecked shop all night.
Her brush hovered over paper until ink soaked through, blurring the page.
At last, she set the brush down, changed into clean clothes, and went to find Peony.
“What are you doing here?”
Qingyan, hearing someone call, frowned in irritation when she saw her. If not for introducing her to business, Peony wouldn’t have offended Master He—and now couldn’t win his favor back.
“I… I came to see Peony…” Fang Linchun murmured.
Though Qingyan despised her, she still led her through the back door, to Peony’s private chamber.
“Wait here. I’ll fetch the lady.”
“Thank you.”
Qingyan said nothing more and left.
After a while, footsteps sounded outside—the sweet, charming voice of Peony, followed by a man’s lewd laughter.
“Master He, you haven’t come to see me in so long~”
“Hah, aren’t I here now? You little minx, what more do you want?” Master He, tall and heavyset, squeezed Peony’s waist roughly. She winced but played coy. “You haven’t come to take care of me, and the madam’s been furious.”
“Heh, and you have the nerve to say that?”
Hearing this, Fang Linchun hid in a corner, uneasy.
The man’s coarse voice made her stomach churn, but his words struck her ears like blows.
“You told your lovers to favor that ugly woman’s tavern. Do you know how much business my winery lost because of her!?”
Wh—what?
Fang Linchun covered her mouth to stifle a gasp.
She leaned closer to hear.
“Oh, Master He~ You’re such a great man. Why bother competing with a little tavern like hers? No matter what she does, she’ll never compare to you~”
“Ha. You sly thing.” Master He grabbed her chin and narrowed his eyes. “What’s your connection with that ugly woman, hm? Why so concerned about her?”
“…” Peony didn’t want to talk about Linchun. She kissed him instead, lying softly, “She once did me a favor. I’ve repaid the debt—there’s nothing between us anymore.”
“Heh…”
The two fell together onto the bed.
Fang Linchun didn’t know how she managed to leave, or when she returned home, or when the white silk appeared in her hand.
Her heart felt hollow, numb. There were no tears, no screams—just emptiness.
Touching the soft, smooth fabric, she thought she should wear something nice—to die with dignity.
She chose the red dress Peony had once given her. Peony had said red suited her best.
She painted her face carefully, to match the outfit.
She looped the silk around the beam. The short stool clattered to the ground.
What was she thinking?
She wondered if dying here would scare away customers. Would it hurt the tofu seller next door? Would people resent the smell of her corpse?
She wondered if she should’ve found a quiet, empty place instead.