Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
I hid beneath the altar table in the ancestral hall, letting the cobwebs cling to my hair. The sound of Shen Yan's wheelchair rolling over the blue bricks came to a halt before the ancestral tablets, and the moonlight distorted his shadow into that of a beast. "The girl your mother chose for you..."
"The Second Mistress's silver hairpin pierced through the darkness. 'That girl has a chest big enough to feed three children; how could you...?'"
"Did I not feed Father?" The blue flame of a lighter illuminated Shen Yan's cold smile. He pointed to the last unmarked spirit tablet, which bore only the name Sheng Chen—the date rumored to be the day the Young Mistress died unexpectedly.
I bit down hard on my wrist. The Second Mistress's embroidered shoes suddenly turned toward the altar table. "I heard that girl was stripped of her bodice this morning? I say she should be locked away..."
"Mother." Shen Yan's voice was laced with venom. "Weren't you also dressed like that when Father brought you back from the opera?"
The sound of a porcelain cup shattering startled the nightingale nesting under the eaves. Through a gap in the table, I saw the fine lines cracking on the Second Mistress's well-maintained face. As Shen Yan turned his wheelchair, half of his lower leg emerged from beneath his cloak—there were bite marks all over it, as if some beast had torn at him.
"On the eighth of next month, I want to see her contract of sale." As the sound of his wheelchair faded, he added, "After all, I must take revenge for my future wife."
Dew from the tiles dripped onto my neck, and I suddenly recalled the burn scar on his collarbone from last night. Those scars were arranged neatly, resembling the shape of the candlestick holding the ever-burning lamp in the ancestral hall.
As the drumbeat struck three times, the master burst through the door, reeking of alcohol. Today he wore a belt inlaid with jade, carved into the shape of an infant suckling.
"Ying Niang..." He grabbed my chin and dragged me toward the bed. "I heard you delivered medicine to the west chamber at noon?"
The embroidered shoes left chaotic marks on the brocade quilt. I stared at the intricately carved headboard, where a rusty copper nail was embedded—last night, Shen Yan had used this very spot; suddenly, the sound of his wheelchair rolling over blue bricks rang clear with a loud bang!
A porcelain pillow smashed against the bedpost. The master's murky eyes bulged as he tore open my middle garment; I heard a heavy thud from next door.
"That little beast is throwing things again?" The master suddenly became excited; he pried my legs apart and shouted at the wall, "Listen well! Your mother used to call out like this!"
The bedpost thudded against the wall with a loud bang. I bit my tongue and stared at Cheng Chen; there was a faded bloodstain there shaped like a bird in flight. Just as his ring scraped across my chest again, a sudden crash of breaking porcelain echoed from next door.
The sound of Shen Yan's medicine bowl clattering echoed in my ears. I counted those noises, as if tallying how many intact bones I had left. Until the master grasped my neck and pressed me against the window frame, the moonlight pouring in revealed a hole in the paper of the west chamber window.
A bloodshot eye was staring right at us.
As the clock struck four, thick smoke wrapped around the cries, tearing through the night. I ran barefoot down the corridor, my waistband loose and sagging at my waist. The fire dragon rising from the direction of the ancestral hall cast a red glow on Shen Yan's wheelchair, where he was lighting a cigarette with a lighter in front of the flames.
"Second Mistress is still inside!" The butler tugged at his sleeve.
The smoke rings that Shen Yan exhaled merged with the thick smoke. He turned his wheelchair, rolling over the butler's fingers, and chuckled amidst the screams, "What a beautiful fire, even more splendid than that one three years ago."
As I rushed forward, the flames were licking at an unnamed tablet. Suddenly, Shen Yan grabbed my ankle. Did he want to die too, just like Stepmother?
"Young Master!" The servant screamed, pointing to the sky. A burning beam crashed down with a thunderous roar. Shen Yan suddenly threw me to the ground, his loose sleeve covering my eyes as I felt the sticky wound on my back—blood from an old scar bursting open.
"Why..." In the heat of the fire, he suddenly bit my earlobe, "Why does your blood smell just as sweet as that child's?"
Comment 0 Comment Count