Chapter 1

Shen Qingtan woke up in a bumpy sedan chair.
When she opened her eyes, everything in front of her was red. She could hear the joyful sound of suona (a Chinese wind instrument) playing nearby.

She looked confused.
She clearly remembered dying—dying miserably in Zhao Jue’s private courtyard.

So why was she now wearing a wedding dress, sitting in a bridal sedan chair, looking like she was about to get married?

As she wondered what was going on, voices came from outside.

“Tsk tsk, the Marquis of Cheng’en really went all out—thousands of acres of land and a wedding procession stretching for ten miles. He must truly love Miss Shen.”

“Miss Shen is stunningly beautiful. Anyone who sees her can’t forget her. Of course the marquis’s family treats her like a treasure. How could her dowry be anything but generous?”

“But Second Miss Shen is also getting married today. Her dowry is nothing like the eldest’s—only about a tenth.”

“They were born to the same mother, yet their lives are so different. That’s fate.”

“Well, Second Miss Shen didn’t grow up in the marquis’s mansion, did she?”

Everyone admired the eldest Miss Shen and felt sorry for the second.

That eldest Miss Shen… was Shen Qingtan.

When she heard these words, hatred surged in her heart, and she gave a cold, mocking smile.

In her past life, she also believed she was the beloved daughter of the marquis’s family—spoiled by her parents and adored by her older brother.

From a young age, she was engaged to a nobleman from a powerful family. Her childhood fiancé, Zhao Jue, treated her with love and did everything she wanted.

She thought she was the happiest girl in the world.

Then, half a year before the wedding, Zhao Jue brought another girl back to the mansion—Shen Mingzhu, the second Miss Shen.

Her parents told her that she had actually been a twin, but the midwife had lied during childbirth, claiming one of the babies died. Now, the lost daughter had been found, and the family was finally whole again.

They said Shen Mingzhu had suffered outside, and as the older sister, Shen Qingtan should be kind and take care of her.

They also said Mingzhu wasn’t like her—didn’t have the education or manners to be a noble wife. So they arranged for her to marry Zhao Jue’s sickly cousin, Zhao Yi. Their weddings were scheduled on the same day, so the sisters could support each other.

Shen Qingtan believed all this and felt sorry for Mingzhu.
Whenever she got something good, she gave it to Mingzhu first.

When Mingzhu’s dowry was too small, she offered half of her own.

Her mother even advised her:
“Mingzhu doesn’t know how to manage money. And Zhao Yi is so sick he might not even have children. It’s better for you to hold the dowry and look after your sister.”

Shen Qingtan didn’t want to argue. She planned that after the wedding, she would manage the estates and shops and secretly leave 20,000 silver taels for Mingzhu to live on.

But when the wedding sedan arrived—it all turned into a nightmare.

She thought Zhao Jue would help her out of the chair.
But when she saw a slender, pale hand reaching in—with a small mole on the index finger—she realized it wasn’t Zhao Jue.

Startled, she threw off her red veil, ignoring the ceremony.
She rushed out of the chair to stop Zhao Jue from taking Mingzhu inside. Right there and then, she switched places with her.

Zhao Jue’s face turned cold. He glanced at her icily.
He didn’t comfort her like before.
Instead, he led her into the house in silence to complete the wedding.

She thought he was just angry—embarrassed by the scene at the gate.

After all, he hadn’t recognized his bride.
Her actions made him look bad in front of the entire noble family.

Later, Shen Mingzhu claimed Zhao Jue had held her hand, so she couldn’t marry Zhao Yi anymore. The engagement was canceled, and she returned to the Shen home, bringing shame to the noble house.

On their wedding night, Zhao Jue didn’t come.
He claimed to be drunk and stayed in the front courtyard.

A new bride, ignored by her husband—her future was clearly bleak.

And after what happened that day, she knew the elder members of the house must dislike her.

Still, Zhao Jue wasn’t completely heartless—he had someone bring her a bowl of plain noodles. That small gesture made her feel a bit better.

After eating, she kept thinking about how to apologize properly to the elders the next day during the tea ceremony.

Maybe from stress, she got very sick that night—burning with fever.

She lay in bed for days. No matter how much bitter medicine she drank, she didn’t get better.

Half a month later, when she finally recovered, she was locked in the back courtyard.

Zhao Jue told her:
“Qingtan, we were childhood friends. I wanted to let you go peacefully. But you insisted on marrying me—you brought this on yourself.”

He continued:
“Lady Cheng’en did have twins. One baby girl did die.
Mingzhu got lost at age three. The marquis’s family never found her. That’s when they picked you up and raised you as her.”

“When Mingzhu returned to the family, they could’ve exposed you as a fake. Then our engagement would’ve been void.”

“But the marquis’s family raised you for over ten years. Out of kindness, they kept your identity as their daughter. Without that, even my sickly cousin Zhao Yi would be out of your reach.”

“You were just a poor orphan. You already enjoyed Mingzhu’s life for over ten years. That should be enough.”

“You should accept your true place. Stop chasing what isn’t yours.”

Then he added coldly:
“Shen Qingtan, stop hating them. You should be grateful the Shen family raised you.”

But how could she not hate them?

When Shen Mingzhu returned, if they had told her the truth, she would’ve stepped aside—hurt, yes, but she would’ve accepted it.

But they didn’t.
They kept her in the dark, tried to swap brides, and when it failed, blamed everything on her and locked her away.

What did she do wrong?

Six months later, Zhao Jue told everyone she had died—but he had her locked away in a private courtyard.

He even wore mourning clothes for her for a year.

Then, on the day he married Shen Mingzhu, he burned down the courtyard.

In the flames, she overheard a servant say:

“Master didn’t want to kill you at first.
But you were taken in secretly by Lady Cheng’en.
She thought your real family were just rich merchants,
but your real father and brother rose to power and came to the capital.
If they found out how you were treated, they’d never forgive us.
So they had to get rid of you.
If you want to blame someone, blame the Marquis’s family.”

Shen Qingtan never imagined she wasn’t an orphan.

Lady Cheng’en had secretly taken her.

They feared her real family would come for revenge—so they killed her first.

Her pain, anger, and hatred all exploded with that fire.

But now, somehow, she had come back to life.

Shen Qingtan dug her fingernails into her palm.

It hurt.
She was really alive again.

“Miss, it’s time to get out of the sedan chair.”

A maid whispered beside her.

Shen Qingtan snapped out of her thoughts. The sedan had stopped.
In front of her was a pale, slender hand—with a small mole on the index finger.