Within the red silk canopy, the embroidered quilt rippled like crimson waves.
Jiang Wan’s mind was in a daze—hadn’t she died?
What was happening now?
A warm pair of lips pressed against hers, hot breath spilling over her neck, gradually moving toward her earlobe.
Startled, Jiang Wan pushed the person on top of her away with all her strength.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you feeling unwell somewhere?”
It was Fu Ci’s voice.
It carried tension and concern.
It had been a long time since Jiang Wan had heard such a tone from him, and she couldn’t help but freeze.
“Fu Ci?”
The man propped himself up on the bed with one hand, careful not to let his weight press down on Jiang Wan.
With his other hand, he brushed aside the sweat-dampened strands of hair clinging to her cheek.
Seeing Jiang Wan’s dazed expression, the corners of his lips curved upward. “Don’t recognize me anymore?”
The smile on Fu Ci’s lips made Jiang Wan think she was seeing things.
He despised her.
He didn’t want to see her.
How could he possibly smile at her?
She looked at Fu Ci with confusion, and in that moment, Jiang Wan noticed something unusual.
Because Fu Ci had agreed to the Old Madam’s demand to take a wife, on that day, the two of them had clashed, and during their time in bed, she had bitten him.
Since then, a deep bite mark had remained.
But now, that mark was gone.
Looking again at Fu Ci’s demeanor, it was clearly off.
There was a passionate affection in his eyes, completely different from the icy indifference that would come later.
And she, who should have been dead, was still alive and well.
Jiang Wan quickly surveyed her surroundings.
A red gauze canopy hung from the four-poster bed, hazy and translucent, allowing her to vaguely make out the furnishings outside.
This was unmistakably the main chamber of the West Courtyard.
When she first entered the mansion, she and Fu Ci had lived here.
Later, when Fu Ci was to take a wife, their relationship soured.
The Old Madam had her move elsewhere, as this courtyard was reserved for the legitimate wife.
And at that time, Fu Ci had not objected.
Later still, she and her child died in that desolate courtyard.
Jiang Wan suddenly felt like crying—it seemed her life had truly started over.
Her body ached as if torn apart.
All the signs were telling her that this was the second day after she had entered the Fu residence.
Seeing the tears glistening in her eyes, Fu Ci was at a loss.
He quickly rolled off her and pulled her into his embrace.
“I won’t do it again, don’t cry.”
Jiang Wan could no longer hold back her tears.
There was joy.
And sorrow.
Fu Ci’s brows furrowed tightly as he gently soothed her. “I know you’re upset, but this is only temporary. I will plead with The Emperor, and I promise my wife will only be you.”
Jiang Wan shook her head.
No, his wife would not be her.
As the daughter of a disgraced official, she should have known her place and not yearned for what did not belong to her.
Perhaps letting go early was the best choice for people and things she could not keep.
Fu Ci knew he had wronged Jiang Wan. She was the legitimate daughter of Grand Tutor Jiang’s household, yet she now bore the title of a concubine.
“I’m sorry.”
Jiang Wan still shook her head. From beginning to end, Fu Ci had never wronged her.
The fact that she was still alive now was all thanks to his pleas.
What happened later was her own fault—she failed to see the situation clearly, trapped herself in her own web, and brought it all upon herself.
She did not blame Fu Ci.
But she no longer wanted to devote her heart to him.
In this world, no one could generously share their man with another.
She never wanted to live that kind of life again—treading on thin ice, painstakingly managing every moment.
Freshly reborn, Jiang Wan’s mind was in chaos.
Now, nestled in Fu Ci’s embrace, she only wanted to escape.
As long as she could stay away from all these troubles, anywhere would be fine.
Watching her cry, Fu Ci’s heart ached with a dense, piercing pain.
Jiang Wan had a heart condition, and the doctor had said she must not experience intense emotional fluctuations.
Otherwise, at best, her condition would worsen.
At worst, she might suddenly… be gone.
Fu Ci held Jiang Wan even tighter, murmuring softly, “Wanwan, in this lifetime, I only want you.”
He had said the same thing in his previous life.
But some things develop in ways beyond anyone’s control.
Jiang Wan had believed it once, and for that, she had become a vicious and ruthless woman.
This time, she would not believe it.