Ruan Jiaqi lay alone on the large bed, turning her head to glance at the silver-white handcuff around her wrist. She had no intention of trying to break free.
The rain fell in a soft drizzle, tapping against the window lattice, seeming both near and far.
She lay there in a daze for a while, listening to the rain as her eyelids gradually grew heavier and heavier.
Sleepiness swept over her. Ruan Jiaqi closed her eyes, clutching the edge of the quilt as she sank into a dream.
Black, icy river water came surging toward her. Water filled the entire world, slowly rising over the top of her head.
In a daze, she found herself back at the Ruan residence.
She was fourteen that year, thin as a sickly little kitten, curled up on the bed, unable to do anything.
Her right eye had been forcibly pierced through by the steward on the First Madam’s orders. The wound on her face, where the hairpin had gouged into her flesh, had festered, like a peach plucked from the branch before it had ripened, left to rot.
The steward locked the door with a loud clang, abandoning her in that absolute darkness.
At first, she would lie on that little wooden bed and sob softly.
Later, she no longer even had the strength to cry.
Her heart had already gone numb, and she could no longer squeeze out even the slightest trace of grief.
Numbness was the best anesthetic.
Every day, the crack beneath the door would open once. A pair of sharp eyes would peer inside to make sure she had not yet died, so that the steward could report back to the First Madam.
She had no idea how many dawns and dusks had passed when, in her hazy consciousness, she seemed to hear two elderly maids gossiping outside the door.
Their voices passed through the wooden door.
They said that Old Madam’s health was deteriorating day by day, and the Ruan family’s memorial chastity arch needed someone to carry on the honor.
For women from prestigious families who died to follow their husbands, the government would award thirty taels of silver toward the construction of a chastity arch and exempt their families from corvée labor and taxes.
Once she died, the First Madam intended to take her corpse to the local authorities in exchange for a chastity arch, while the local officials could also add another accomplishment to their political record.
There was a sinister cruelty in their words, as though they had already foreseen her death.
Lying on that little wooden bed, Ruan Jiaqi felt as thin as a sheet of rice paper, soaked through with despair.
Instead, she found herself strangely calm.
So that was why.
Other girls were sold for only three to five taels of silver. Boys were worth six or seven at most.
When the Ruan family bought her, they had actually given her parents ten taels.
It turned out that her fate had already been decided back then. She alone had been kept in the dark.
Those ten taels of silver were not the price of her service.
They were the price of her life.
Once everything was calculated, setting aside all the other conveniences and benefits, the Ruan family had actually made a net profit of twenty taels by buying her.
What a meticulously calculated bargain.
Amid the thick darkness, Ruan Jiaqi silently curved her lips into a smile.
She quietly listened to the night rain beneath the window, one drop after another, tapping against the freshly unfurled banana leaves, and calmly waited for her own death.
Her consciousness drifted between scorching heat and freezing cold. Several days of high fever seemed almost enough to roast her soul dry.
In her delirium, her cracked lips suddenly felt a strange warmth, as though someone were smearing thick rice porridge over her parched mouth.
This continued for several nights, and somehow, like a weed stubbornly surviving, she came back to life.
The First Madam flew into a tremendous rage over it.
All the servants in the courtyard stood with their hands folded before them, yet not a single one admitted to doing it.
Only Old Madam Ruan, a devout Buddhist who always fingered her prayer beads, gave the matter her verdict.
“It is Heaven’s will… Since Heaven has chosen to let her live, then let her be. To defy Heaven’s will is to invite retribution.”
And so, she became the youngest widow in the entire town.
In name, she was the Third Madam of the Ruan family, a widow whose husband had died before the wedding could even be consummated.
In reality, her status was even lower than that of the household maids and servants born into the family.
If she quietly died of illness one day, it would be nothing short of a blessing for the Ruan family. Naturally, the First Madam had no intention of assigning anyone specifically to care for her food and daily needs.
The steward skimmed her meals, giving her nothing but scraps and leftovers.
Whenever the pampered young ladies of the household caught sight of her ghostlike appearance from a distance, they would immediately hide far away in fear.
The mischievous young masters, meanwhile, loved nothing more than tormenting her. Their childish voices rang out, loud and vicious.
“Ugly monster! One-eyed freak! Come here and let’s beat her up!”
Small stones rained down on her amid the children’s laughter and screams.
She had never particularly wanted to live.
But since she had survived, she would endure.
Not for any other reason, but simply so that those who wished for her death would not get their way.
As time passed, that last thread of will grew thinner and thinner.
She could no longer endure.
Exhaustion seeped from every crack in her bones. She only wanted to sink into a deep sleep and never wake again.
The fourteenth day of the eighth lunar month was an auspicious day.
The masters, madams, and concubines of the first and second branches had all gone up the mountain to burn incense and pray to Buddha, leaving behind only a group of lazy servants at the residence, some drinking and others gambling.
A cold moon peeked halfway out from behind the colorful clouds.
The water in the well had been warmed by the sun all day and was pleasantly warm.
She had deliberately chosen this perfect moment.
Slowly, she sat down on the edge of the well and lowered her head.
The well water reflected a gently rippling moon and her ruined face.
Ruan Jiaqi viciously thought:
It would be best if the well water soaked my corpse until it rotted and filled with worms. Then let this entire family drink it and catch some plague. Let them all die of illness!
She leaned forward slightly, preparing to leap.
Then someone suddenly called out behind her.
The voice was clear and slightly deep, ringing out unexpectedly.
It was not the smoke-ruined voice of someone who had spent years smoking opium.
It was clean and clear.
Ruan Jiaqi froze and slowly turned around.
Under the moonlight stood a figure, his posture straight and tall as a pine.
It was the eldest young master of the Ruan family, who had previously been studying at a military academy in Beiyang. He had accidentally injured his leg while horseback riding during training and had been forced to take half a year off to return home and recuperate.
According to the Ruan family genealogy, she was technically his “little aunt-in-law.”
Yet in truth, he was several years older than her.
When she had married into the Ruan family, the Ruan family’s eldest young master had already become the most dazzling young gentleman in the dreams of countless girls throughout Paifang Town.
He was tall and handsome, with an air of solemn nobility and heroic refinement. Born into the Ruan family, a wealthy household whose prosperity had lasted for generations, he was unquestionably the most outstanding young heir in the entire town.
Unfortunately, he spent most of the year studying away from home, leaving the town’s young ladies to pine after him day and night.
When those bright, star-like eyes turned toward her, Ruan Jiaqi instinctively lowered her face in shame, unwilling for him to see her disfigured features.
Fortunately, a few clouds drifted near the moon, leaving the night hazy.
The courtyard was utterly still. Cold crickets chirped softly. Night dew rolled from the broad tips of the banana leaves into the pond below, while a few fireflies drifted through the air.
“If you jump, a cripple like me won’t be able to fish you out.”
He paused, his voice carrying a bright warmth.
“But I can’t just stand by and ignore you either. So I’ll have no choice but to jump down with you.”
He paused again before asking casually,
“Want to have some mooncakes together?”
“Mooncakes from Yixiangzhai. After sitting for a day or two, they’ve already developed a thin sheen of oil. Cut one open with a little knife, and you’ll find smooth, jade-white lotus paste wrapped around a salted duck egg yolk. Take one bite and it’s sandy, rich, and wonderfully fragrant.”
She pursed her lips and secretly swallowed.
In this lifetime, she had never tasted what mooncakes from Yixiangzhai were like.