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Deep House Forbidden Record
墨書 Inktalez
I clutched the hem of my wedding gown tightly, my knuckles turning white in the candlelight. The tassels hanging down swayed with the jolting of the sedan chair, reminiscent of the trembling hands of A Niang as she stuffed silver coins into my arms last night.
"Ying Niang, do not blame A Niang for her harshness... that Young Master is a consumptive, and the little concubine brought in to bring him luck won’t last more than three months." Her hands, like dried tree bark, rested on her chest. "But you are so beautiful; the master will surely cherish you."
At that moment, I actually believed her words.
It was only now, with the red candles casting a bloody glow over the bridal chamber, that I realized the figure stepping through the door was not a frail young master at all. The pair of black boots embroidered with golden toads crushed the scattered melon seeds beneath them, and a stench of alcohol mixed with rotting flesh assaulted my senses.
"The tenderest lamb from Jiangnan..." The withered hand lifted my veil, revealing Master Shen, a man over fifty years old, with dark stains embedded beneath his nails. His swollen eyelids revealed murky yellow beneath them, and his mouth drooped with drool. The folds of his neck were layered thickly, stained with rouge—who knew from which unfortunate soul it came?
"Where is the Young Master?" I stumbled backward, my embroidered shoes crunching on longan shells. "The contract states..."
"Bring him luck?" The old master’s voice was thick with phlegm as he bit down on my earlobe with his gold tooth. "My son has been bedridden for three years; it’s only natural that I should be the one to bring luck."
Suddenly, the Dragon and Phoenix Candle burst into flames. His gnarled hand tore open my gown, and I heard a chilling sound as it scraped against my chest—the sound of fabric ripping apart. The bodice of intertwined lotuses that A Niang had sewn for me last night now felt like a noose tightening around my neck.
"Please..." My heart raced as I felt the cold grip around my ankle pulling me back. Just then, as I reached the bedpost, I heard a sharp metallic click from outside the window.
The old master froze. Seizing the opportunity, I pulled the tattered wedding dress over myself and caught sight of a shadow flickering outside the intricately carved window frame. A blue flame danced between their fingers, flickering in and out of view.
"A Yan?" The old master's murky eyes suddenly bulged in surprise. "Get in here!"
The door creaked open. The sound of wheels rolling over the blue bricks trembled through the air—legend had it that Shen Family's Young Master had been crippled by a snake bite and was locked away in a west wing room, hidden from daylight.
The moment the moonlight spilled in, I let out a cry. The frail man, as rumored, was wrapped in a dark cloak, a vicious scar slashing across his brow. He toyed with a silver lighter in his left hand, the flame licking at his fingertips, while his right hand hung empty beside his wheelchair.
"Father seems to be in high spirits," he said, his voice sharp like an ice-coated blade, his gaze sweeping over my bare shoulder. "Do you need me to teach Stepmother how to serve?"
Suddenly, the old man seized my neck, his sticky tongue slithering against my skin. "Did you hear that? Your son acknowledges you as his mother now." The stench of his breath made me shudder as I caught sight of Shen Yan's hand gripping the lighter, the veins on the back of it standing out.
"Clang—"
The sound of silver crashing to the ground startled the old man. Shen Yan bent down to pick it up, and as the collar of his cloak slipped down, half of his collarbone was revealed, covered in a multitude of burn scars. When he raised his eyes to meet mine, I suddenly understood the darkness swirling in them—it was like gazing up at the stars from the bottom of a well.
"Master! Look out!" A maid's scream shattered the silence.
The old man cursed as I hurriedly wrapped myself in a silk quilt. Shen Yan's wheelchair blocked the doorway; he leaned down to pick up the piece I had dropped, intentionally brushing against my instep. "Stepmother, be careful not to let the night dew dampen your clothes."
That night, I sat in the corner of my bed, staring at the shattered pieces on the floor. Shen Yan's last words before he left mingled with the crisp sound of the lighter opening and closing, drilling into my eardrums like a venomous snake.
"Only by living can one bite back. Remember that?"
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