“Too bad Father still loves you most. You remain the exalted Princess Zhaohua!” Baili Yue suddenly flung her away, the jade box slamming onto the table with a *bang*. “But it doesn’t matter…”
She laughed recklessly. “Once Crown Prince Brother ascends the throne, I—his full‑blooded sister—will be the most honored Grand Princess. And Brother Huai’an will be the first minister of the new dynasty!”
“That position belongs only to Crown Prince Brother.” A ruthless gleam flashed in Baili Yue’s eyes.
Baili Jun’s body convulsed, a hoarse sound tearing from her throat. The agony seemed to drift far away, her consciousness slipping from her body. Through the haze, she saw Ji Huai’an’s hand reach into her chest, lifting out a heart that still beat faintly.
When it was placed into the jade box, she could still feel it trembling in Baili Yue’s hands.
So a human heart could live so long outside the body.
Baili Yue caressed the box lovingly, then suddenly smiled as if remembering something. “Almost forgot. Before you die, Sister, let me share some good news.”
She leaned close to Baili Jun’s fading breath. “Tomorrow, word will come from the northern frontier. Your uncle and cousin will be accused of treason—colluding with the enemy. The whole clan will be executed.”
“Then, Sister, you won’t be lonely in hell.”
Baili Jun’s dim pupils contracted sharply. Her uncle—the great general who once carried her on his shoulders to pick peaches. Her cousin—the young commander who just last month wrote that after her wedding he would return to the capital and brew apricot blossom wine for her. They were her dearest kin, the only ones who might avenge her. Now even that hope was severed.
“Hahaha…” Baili Jun burst into a shrill, despairing laugh. Her blood‑stained teeth bit through her tongue. With her last strength, she cursed: “Ji Huai’an… Baili Yue… if there is another life… I’ll wait for you in hell…”
Just before losing consciousness, she seemed to hear the sound of blood suspended in midair.
Time froze.
A strange force tugged at her soul. All pain vanished, replaced by countless icy needles coursing backward through her veins.
The heart in the jade box suddenly floated into the air, retracing time’s path, sliding back through torn flesh, settling perfectly into her bleeding chamber. The blood spilled on the wedding cup slithered like snakes back into her chest. The dagger’s cold gleam faded into a silver afterimage. The molten wax tears of the dragon‑phoenix candles flowed upward, reforming into flawless carvings.
…
When time resumed, Baili Jun’s eyes flew open. Her chest throbbed with tearing pain; instinctively, she clutched her heart. Red wax dripped like blood onto the table, the air thick with the mingled stench of blood and intoxicating incense.
She lifted her gaze to the bronze mirror. Her reflection was flawless—makeup exquisite, lips tinted red—no trace of the blood‑soaked chaos moments before.
Hadn’t she already died?
Her palm pressed her chest. Her heart beat steadily. She had truly come back to life!
“Ah Jun, drink this wedding cup. May we be husband and wife in love, growing old together.” A gentle, jade‑like voice drifted from outside the canopy, shattering her thoughts. In that instant, her blood froze.
That voice—etched into her soul.
Ji Huai’an. Her consort. And in her past life, the executioner who carved out her heart and killed her.
In her past life, she had drunk the wedding cup and immediately lost consciousness—only to awaken in agony, watching the consort she loved most carve out her heart with his own hands. And now, she had returned to the very night when that nightmare began.
Baili Jun fixed her gaze on that familiar face, memories of her previous life surging like a tide. Scenes that once seemed ordinary yet subtly wrong replayed in her mind one by one. She had never imagined it was all a conspiracy—a trap that left her beyond redemption. Hidden beneath her sleeves, her hands clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.
In my last life, I gave you my heart without reserve.
In this life, I will take yours in return.
The candlelight flickered as a hand lifted the beaded curtain. Ji Huai’an approached, carrying two cups of wedding wine.
“Ah Jun…” His words of affection broke off when he met her eyes—dark as bottomless pits, cold as a frozen lake. His body stiffened, the cup in his right hand nearly slipping. He could swear he saw blood reflected in her pupils, not candlelight or bridal drapery. But when he looked again, her lashes lowered, and the vision was gone, like an illusion.
“What is it, Ji Lang?” Baili Jun tilted her head toward the window, the tassels of her phoenix crown chiming softly.
“The rain tonight is heavy. Did the thunder startle you?”
Lightning split the sky, illuminating Ji Huai’an’s pale face in stark detail. He forced a smile. “It’s the window lattice… seems there’s a gap letting in the wind. I’ll check it.”
He set the two cups on the table and turned toward the carved window. The jade pendant at his waist, engraved with twin lotuses, struck against the chain on his wrist, ringing crisply.
Baili Jun watched his tall, straight back, her fingers brushing the golden hairpin beneath her crown.
In her past life, it was the cup from his right hand that had drugged her, leaving her helpless for slaughter.
It was this man—this hand—that had once placed the hairpin in her hair, and later used it to carve out her heart.
Seizing the moment while his back was turned, Baili Jun swiftly switched the positions of the two cups.
When Ji Huai’an returned, he saw only the Princess gazing at him with gentle eyes, her silhouette softened by candlelight.
“Forgive me for keeping you waiting.” He lifted the cup, deliberately offering her the one in his right hand.
A flicker of mockery flashed in Baili Jun’s eyes.
As they crossed cups, she let her wide sleeve conceal a subtle flick of her wrist. Just before the wine touched her lips, the liquid spilled silently into the embroidery.
Ji Huai’an tilted his head back and drank. She clearly saw his throat move, his expression easing with relief.
How laughable—that the poison meant for her now burned in his veins like knives to the bone.
“The rite is complete!” The matron’s voice rang out through the rain.
Baili Jun lowered her lashes, hiding the cold gleam in her eyes, as the “drunken” groom collapsed heavily onto the bridal bed.
“The play… has begun.” Her whisper carried a bloodthirsty edge.
She removed her phoenix crown, letting her long black hair cascade over her shoulders. Then she drew out the golden hairpin. With a swift strike, she drove it through Ji Huai’an’s right hand, pinning him to the bed.
The searing pain jolted him awake. He opened his eyes to see Princess Zhaohua’s blood‑red gaze and chilling smile. Cold surged up his spine, his blood freezing into ice. His mind went blank. He could not comprehend what was happening. How could the tender, affectionate princess of a moment ago now look like a demon from hell? And why was it he who lay helpless on the bed, when it should have been her?