On the second day of the second lunar month, Lin Yueming, who had returned home after being divorced for less than a hundred days, was married off once again.
Her second husband was the Imperial Favorite, Marquis of Wu’an, Jiang Sheng.
At only twenty-three years old, Jiang Sheng had been enfeoffed as a marquis for his Merit of Following the Dragon and was even personally granted the courtesy name “Yunqi” by the Emperor. Young and accomplished, his future was boundless.
In the year the New Emperor ascended the throne, the threshold of the Marquis of Wu’an’s residence was nearly trampled flat by the swarms of matchmakers rushing in. Everyone speculated which noble lady from a prestigious family would catch the eye of this rising star of the court and secure such immense wealth and honor.
Who could have known that, due to a drunken remark from the Emperor after a few drinks, this incredible fortune would fall upon Lin Yueming?
To have obtained such a favorable marriage as a twice-married woman, anyone would envy Lin Yueming for marrying above her station.
But as Lin Yueming lay on the wedding bed for the second time as a bride, she felt no anticipation in her heart—only deep anxiety.
A mismatched marriage was no good match at all.
What was considered marrying up for her was, for the Marquis of Wu’an, a significant step down.
The Emperor’s decree could not be defied, and she worried whether the Marquis harbored resentment toward this marriage and whether that resentment would be directed at her.
In her first marriage, she had also encountered what everyone considered a favorable match. But from that experience, the greatest lesson Lin Yueming learned was not to place expectations on others.
When she first married, facing her young and handsome husband, she had felt stirrings of affection, hoping for a harmonious and loving union.
Later, she discovered that her husband had a childhood sweetheart—a cousin who still lived in the residence. Disheartened, she lowered her hopes, seeking only mutual respect and courtesy.
Yet even that proved to be a foolish delusion. In the end, she could not even secure a stable place to call home.
Her in-laws wanted to make room for the cousin and could not tolerate her presence.
After being divorced and sent back to her family for failing to produce an heir in three years, even her own family could not tolerate her.
Lin Yueming’s late grandfather had been the Academy Head of White Deer Academy, and the Lin family was a model for scholars across the land.
Propriety, Righteousness, Integrity, and Shame, as well as Women’s Precepts and Virtues, were doctrines the Lin family had written to admonish the world. The Lin family would never allow a divorced daughter to remain at home, tarnishing their reputation.
Lin Yueming was sent to a manor in the Lin family’s ancestral estate. In the harsh winter, she had no charcoal for warmth; when she fell ill, there was no medicine. Lacking adequate clothing and food, she was left to fend for herself, nearly dying on that estate.
Just as the Lin family had hoped, their tarnished daughter would dutifully fall ill and pass away.
It was only when news of the Emperor’s marriage decree reached the Lin family that Lin Yueming was brought back, barely clinging to life.
Thus, toward the Emperor and the Marquis of Wu’an, Lin Yueming felt profound gratitude.
This time, Lin Yueming thought, she would not ask for anything else. She did not seek marital affection—only to avoid mistreatment, to have a place to belong, and to live peacefully.
She had no one to rely on. If anything went wrong this time, the Lin family would not grant her another chance at life.
So, when Marquis of Wu’an Jiang Sheng, after seeing off the guests, returned to the bridal chamber, drunkenly climbed onto the bed, and touched her face, Lin Yueming closed her eyes and remained motionless, demonstrating her submission to him.
Submit to him, respect him, treat him as her master to serve, as her employer to please, as the Marquis to attend to—as repayment for saving her life and giving her a place to belong.
As long as she did not regard him as her husband and placed no demands on him, perhaps her days could pass peacefully.
Jiang Sheng had drunk who knows how much; his breath carried the strong scent of alcohol. As he drew near, Lin Yueming felt as if his presence enveloped her entirely.
That presence was overbearing, much like the man himself.
He did not exchange pleasantries with Lin Yueming to build rapport. Upon reaching the bed, he touched her face, and seeing she did not resist, he kissed her neck. One hand slid beneath her clothes along the hem of her garment, while the other groped downward—his movements were urgent and rough.
A strange man she had only glimpsed briefly during the nuptial wine ceremony, whose face she hadn’t even fully seen.
But since the grand ceremony had been performed, he had this right. It was her duty as a wife.
Lin Yueming slowed her breathing and endured silently.
Staying alive was what mattered most.
The Marquis of Wu’an could not openly defy the imperial decree, but now that she had entered the Jiang family, if he was displeased, it would be all too easy for him to make her quietly fall ill and die, just as the Lin family had done.
She did not want to die. She wanted to live.
She had to survive in the Marquis’s Mansion, and the Marquis of Wu’an was someone she could not afford to offend.
But his actions made it difficult for her to numb herself.
She felt pain—whether he didn’t know better or was doing it on purpose, she couldn’t tell.
If he were a fourteen-year-old boy with no experience, Lin Yueming would have assumed the former. But Jiang Sheng was twenty-three, two years older than her.
Jiang Sheng had followed the New Emperor from his fiefdom to seize the capital last year, and none of the prominent families in the capital knew much about his past.
For an ordinary man of twenty-three, his children would already be old enough to attend school. It was unlikely he hadn’t married by that age.
So, although he arrived in the capital without a formal wife, it was widely assumed he had likely been married before but something had happened.
A man who had been married before would not be ignorant of such matters. That meant he was doing it on purpose.
So he did hold resentment. It was foolish to have expected otherwise.
This was even worse than the last one.
After all, her previous husband had never intentionally tormented her in bed.
Lin Yueming tried to adjust her breathing, digging her nails into her palm to distract herself from the pain, but it hurt so much she accidentally let out a sound.
Jiang Sheng stopped. “Does it hurt?”
Lin Yueming shook her head, replying as calmly as possible, “No, my lord.”
Jiang Sheng withdrew his hand and moved away from her.
Lin Yueming opened her eyes and, before he could rise from the bed, grabbed a corner of his robe.
So men’s rules were all the same—she wasn’t supposed to make a sound at such a time.
Whether from pleasure or pain.
Last time, it was also on the wedding night.
Lin Yueming had almost fallen in love at first sight with her handsome husband. Overwhelmed by passion, she had accidentally cried out and instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
A scholar was indeed a scholar—even in bed, he insisted on propriety. Though he, too, was so overcome that his breathing grew ragged, he stopped to scold her:
“Shameless.”
Back then, the young Lin Yueming still held illusions about marital affection and could not understand what was wrong with a wife adoring her husband.
She had felt deeply wronged.
But now, even though she was the one in pain, Lin Yueming dared not feel wronged—only terrified.
The fear of near-death she had experienced in the manor came rushing back, making her tremble and shiver all over.
She could not anger Jiang Sheng, for she had no way out, nowhere to go.
With trembling hands, Lin Yueming clutched the corner of Jiang Sheng’s robe. Disheveled, she knelt on the bed, lowered her eyes, and pleaded for forgiveness:
“Please forgive me, my lord.”
Jiang Sheng, who had been about to leave the bed, sat back down but said nothing.
The candlelight flickered, and Lin Yueming was enveloped in his shadow. She could feel his gaze upon her but could not decide whether she should reach out further to touch his hand.
She didn’t know if, among his demands for her on the bed, aside from not making a sound, there was also a rule forbidding her from touching him.
If she took the initiative, would his anger subside?
Or would it make him even angrier?
Fortunately, he hadn’t pulled his sleeve away—perhaps there was still room for reconciliation.
Lin Yueming didn’t dare act rashly. She still held onto the corner of his sleeve and said again:
“Please calm your anger, my lord. I won’t dare to do it again.”
Jiang Sheng moved closer, almost sitting right against her, his scorching breath enveloping her once more.
He lifted her chin:
“Look at me. If I hurt you, why are you apologizing?”
Lin Yueming followed his hand and looked at him. This was the first time she had seen Jiang Sheng’s face so clearly, up close.
Jiang Sheng had a handsome face and a burly build—a towering military general, completely different in style from her previous husband.
His expression as he looked at her held inquiry, but no trace of anger could be seen.
Lin Yueming felt slightly reassured and answered meekly:
“I shouldn’t have made a sound and ruined your mood, my lord. I won’t do it again.”
Lin Yueming thought her expression and tone were humble enough, but Jiang Sheng’s eyes suddenly changed, and his grip tightened.
Though not visibly angry, it gave her a sense of an impending storm.
Lin Yueming didn’t know what about her words had provoked him. Instinctively, she leaned back, pulling away from his hand gripping her chin.
Jiang Sheng looked at his hand left hanging in the air and asked in a low voice:
“Was it him who taught you not to make a sound? Why are you hiding? Did you think I was going to hit you? Did he actually hit you too?”