Ji Huai’an’s gaze fell upon the wine cup by the bed. The nuptial wine!
It must have been that drugged cup of nuptial wine that Princess Zhaohua switched. But how did she discover it had been tampered with?
There was no time to think. Ji Huai’an only wanted to escape immediately. Yet his body felt utterly drained of strength. No matter how he struggled, he could not rise from the bed. His right hand, nailed to the bedframe, tore open its wound with every movement. Blood gushed out, staining the bridal bed’s red covers.
“Ah Jun… what are you trying to do?” The ever-composed Ji Huai’an was now filled with terror and dread.
“This golden hairpin was your coming-of-age gift to me. Now it returns to its rightful owner.” Baili Jun only smiled faintly, though her eyes gleamed with icy frost.
“Have you forgotten, Ji Lang? Weren’t you planning to carve out my heart?” Her voice was calm enough to chill the soul.
At her words, Ji Huai’an’s pupils shrank. The poison’s agony bulged the veins in his neck, leaving him too horrified to utter a sound.
She knew? She knew everything? How could she possibly know?
“Rest assured. I won’t let you die so easily.”
In an instant, Baili Jun’s crimson-tipped fingers plunged into his right eye socket. Blood streamed down his cheek, merging with the scarlet of his wedding robes.
The candlewick sputtered, casting light upon Ji Huai’an’s blood-soaked face. Outside, the storm lashed against the window lattice, mingling with his muffled groans.
Baili Jun twisted her fingers and plucked out the eyeball with a sickening pop, like pulling a cork from a wine jar. She held it up to the candlelight, studying it. “How strange… After staring at me for five years, it shows not a trace of guilt.”
Smiling, she crushed the eyeball and tossed it into the nuptial wine cup.
Ji Huai’an’s body convulsed, his throat rasping with broken gasps.
“Ah-Jun… I was wrong…” His trembling left hand clutched the bloody hollow of his right eye. His voice was hoarse, ragged.
“It was the Crown Prince… He forced me to take your heart…”
“Shh.” Baili Jun pressed her bloodstained finger against his lips, silencing his plea. Her gaze fell upon a slip of paper that had slipped from his sleeve. She lifted it with her fingertip.
‘After the heart is cut out, destroy the body at once.’
The sharp strokes were unmistakably the Crown Prince Baili Zhang’s handwriting.
A low laugh rumbled from Baili Jun’s throat, like a demon crawling out of hell. She had always believed herself cherished.
The character “Zhao” was the name of the dynasty. Her father had granted her the title “Princess Zhaohua,” treating her as a precious jewel.
But now it seemed that “Zhao” was not an honor, but a death sentence.
Why did the Crown Prince want her heart? Did her father know?
The fog was thick, but the answer no longer mattered. All she knew was—they all wanted her dead.
Baili Jun slowly raised her eyes to Ji Huai’an, murderous intent surging within.
“I know the Crown Prince orchestrated all of this.”
“I also know you and Baili Yue have long been secretly entangled.”
“But the one who tried to carve out my heart… was you, Ji Lang.”
In Ji Huai’an’s remaining eye, Princess Zhaohua’s bloodstained smile was reflected. He watched helplessly as she drew a ruby-inlaid dagger from beneath the pillow. Once meant for cutting the wedding knot, its blade now gleamed coldly, mirroring her crimson gaze. The tip traced his pale cheek, slid down his throat, and parted the red fabric of his wedding robe.
“Does the Prince Consort know what it feels like to have one’s bones and heart carved away?”
Ji Huai’an’s body convulsed violently. “No… Your Highness… I can help you… against the Crown Prince… I know his secrets… Please… don’t…”
Ji Huai’an’s voice was hoarse, every word trembling with the terror of death. His left hand reached in vain for Princess Zhaohua’s wrist, but her icy gaze froze him in place.
The dagger in Baili Jun’s hand pressed steadily against the skin above his pounding heart, feeling the frantic rhythm driven by fear. She looked down at him, her voice soft as falling snow yet cold enough to pierce bone: “Don’t be afraid, Ji Lang.”
“My heart was carved out long ago. Now…” A cruel curve lifted her lips.
The blade sank slightly, piercing the skin. A thin line of crimson seeped out.
Ji Huai’an let out a hopeless whimper.
“…It’s your turn.”
Lightning split the sky outside. In the flickering candlelight, Baili Jun’s face shifted—half radiant as a blossom, half shadowed like a demon.
Without hesitation, she drove the dagger into his chest. A line of blood blossomed.
Thunder roared, drowning his scream.
“So this is how a heart is carved…” Baili Jun whispered.
“The first cut repays the feigned injury that lured me to save you.”
“The second cut repays your vow at the lantern festival—‘None but you will I wed.’”
“The third cut repays your promise when accepting the imperial decree—‘Never will I betray you.’”
“The fourth cut repays the agony of my heart being carved out in a past life!”
By the fourth stab, Ji Huai’an convulsed like a dying fish.
Bloodied lips trembled as he forced out broken syllables: “Your Highness… do you think… only I and the Crown Prince… wish you dead?”
“What of it?” Baili Jun lifted her scarlet veil, calmly wiping blood from her hands.
“I crawled back from hell only to make you all… suffer a fate worse than death.” Her lips moved, voice cold enough to chill the marrow.
She cast a frigid glance at Ji Huai’an’s lifeless body, then rose and took a red candle from the stand. Flames danced in her eyes. She raised her hand, setting fire to the gauze embroidered with mandarin ducks. The blaze devoured the bridal bed.
Ji Huai’an’s corpse twisted in the flames as if unwilling to yield.
Baili Jun tore off the “Eternal Union” chain from her wrist and flung it into the fire, then turned and pushed open the door.
The storm outside had weakened to a drizzle.
Heaven itself aids me.
The night wind carried rain against her face, lifting her hair. Her blood-soaked wedding robe glowed dark red in the firelight—like a demon returned from hell. She had barely stepped out when a shrill scream pierced the night.
“Ah—! A ghost!”
Baili Jun lifted her gaze, meeting the terrified, twisted face of her younger sister, Baili Yue.
Standing under the corridor, Baili Yue clutched a jade box. At the sight of Baili Jun—hair disheveled, clad in blood-red robes, walking out from the flames—her face turned deathly pale. Under Baili Jun’s stare, the jade box slipped from her hands and shattered.
Why was Baili Jun here? Wasn’t she supposed to be dead, her heart carved out? And Brother Huai’an—had he failed?
Fear, unease, and confusion surged in Baili Yue’s chest.
“Is my dear sister here to offer congratulations?” Baili Jun smiled faintly, brushing her fingers over the golden hairpin in Baili Yue’s hair.
“Too bad the Prince Consort has gone to sleep. Why don’t you wake him yourself?”
Baili Yue’s legs gave way, stumbling backward in terror. In her panic, her embroidered shoe caught on the stone steps, sending her sprawling, ornaments scattering.
Baili Jun looked down upon her, lips curling into a sinister smile. “Don’t rush, my good sister. Next, it will be your turn soon.”
Her voice slithered like a demon’s whisper.
“Ahhh!!” Baili Yue scrambled on hands and knees, shrieking as she fled into the night.