Chapter 2 — Pierced Through the Heart by My Husband, I Am Reborn

Song Chieu Da rose leisurely, his ink-colored robes sweeping across the floor littered with debris. He stepped directly in front of me, his person still clinging to the faint, lingering scent of last night’s wine.

"Miss Giang..."

He leaned down, whispering close to my ear, his warm breath grazing the faint pink mark hidden beneath my collar.

"I must admit... I truly underestimated you."

I tilted my head, our eyes locking. In the depths of his pupils, dark as an abyss, I saw my own reflection—composed, tranquil, and wearing a charming smile.

"Whatever do you mean, young master?"

I blinked, feigning innocence.

"Tuyet Ngam does not understand your meaning."

He let out a cold, sharp laugh, flicked his sleeves, and turned away, his retreating figure radiating a fury like a winter gale. Giang Hac Lam chased after him for two steps, then turned back, gripping my wrist tight.

"It was you, wasn't it? You were the one who brought Thuo Duoc..."

"Brother."

I gently pulled my hand away, reaching out to smooth the creases on his robe.

"At this hour, you ought to be thinking about how to explain to Father why the jade pendant you always carry... was found in the bed of Thuo Duoc."

Seeing his complexion turn deathly pale in an instant, I leaned in, whispering so softly that only the two of us could hear.

"And furthermore... how do you intend to explain this to your beloved Thu Y?"

I turned to leave, but Giang Hac Lam caught me again.

"Tuyet Ngam..."

He smiled, though his eyes remained dark and hollow.

"That mark on your neck... what is that about?"

The room fell into sudden, suffocating silence. I acted flustered, raising a hand to cover my neck, my cheeks flushing a deep, feigned red.

"Last night... I was just bitten by a mosquito."

Giang Hac Lam’s gaze darkened further, and he moved to press me for more—

"Young Master!"

The steward burst in, breathless, bowing low to report:

"The young master of the Tan family has arrived!"

My heart skipped a beat. Tan Tu Chuoc?! Why had he come? Could it be... had he discovered something? In the main hall, Tan Tu Chuoc wore a deep rose-colored silk robe, idly spinning a begonia-shaped earring in his hand. So, that was where it had ended up. Seeing us enter, he raised his phoenix eyes, his lazy smile tinged with a wicked allure.

"I wonder... does Miss Giang recognize this earring?"

For a moment, my heart fluttered, but I quickly steadied myself. I picked up a teacup from the side, took a slow sip, and spoke in a calm, flat tone.

"I do not recognize it."

"Oh... My apologies for the intrusion then."

Tan Tu Chuoc stood up with a languid grace. Just as he reached the threshold, he suddenly turned back. His gaze lingered pointedly on my neck—where the kiss mark remained vivid.

"If one day, Miss Giang happens to remember anything..."

"The gates of the Tan manor are always open, waiting for your visit."

With those words, his deep rose silhouette slowly faded behind the corridor, elegant and unbothered. Immediately, Giang Hac Lam grabbed my wrist, his voice low and jagged.

"You are clever... truly, you have quite the talent."

I coldly shook his hand off, retreating a half-step, refusing to look him in the eye.

"Whatever are you saying, Brother? Tuyet Ngam does not understand."

The game of chess has begun. But the one holding the initiative... is me.

The spring banquet in Jinling has always been a grand affair, a gathering place for scholars, poets, and the daughters of noble houses. I leaned against a vermillion-painted pillar, watching with indifference as Lam Thu Y stepped across the fallen petals. She wore a dress of sheer white silk, her hair adorned only by a single white magnolia; she looked as ethereal as a fairy stepping out of a painting.

"Thu Y!"

My brother—Giang Hac Lam—rushed forward to greet her, his joy unmasked and overflowing. But even more laughable... was Song Chieu Da. That man who prided himself on his icy, noble detachment was now striding forward, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never seen him bestow upon me. Hmph... men. In my past life, when Lam Thu Y returned, Song Chieu Da had been forced to marry me. She stood outside the wedding hall, tears blurring her eyes, saying softly:

"I wish you both a hundred years of harmony."

Then she turned and walked away, falling ill for three full months. Because of this, Song Chieu Da’s resentment toward me grew only deeper. But in this life...

"Thu Y? Why are you..."

Song Chieu Da reached out to stroke her head, but she gently dodged. He froze, stunned.

"Brother Trieu Da."

Lam Thu Y’s tear-filled eyes looked up at him, gentle as water.

"I received the letter you sent, and I returned at once."

Song Chieu Da frowned.

"I never... wrote a letter..."

The first move has been made. In this chess match, who will finally fall into the trap?

"...It was just a mere servant girl."

A stir of shock rippled through the garden. She bowed her head, then lifted it again, a glistening tear falling—each drop striking the hearts of the many men present. I glanced over, noting that many young masters of noble houses could no longer hide their infatuation, their eyes brimming with pity. After all, she was not just the greatest beauty in Jinling, but a celebrated talent across all of Jiangnan. Everyone had arrived... the performance should begin.

Song Chieu Da pulled Lam Thu Y by the hand, dragging her toward the lotus pond.

"Brother Trieu Da, you are hurting me..."

Lam Thu Y struggled to pull her hand away.

"Thu Y, listen to me explain!"

Song Chieu Da seemed to snap out of his trance and let go. Lam Thu Y immediately retreated half a step, a gesture that left him reaching for nothing in the air. In a blink, she had thrown herself into the arms of Giang Hac Lam, tears falling like rain.

"Brother Hac Lam, is what they say... truly real?"

Giang Hac Lam patted her back, offering comfort while casting a defiant, provocative look at Song Chieu Da. The color drained from Song Chieu Da’s face until he looked like he might explode. Splendid. Truly... a magnificent play. I took a sip of peach wine, the fragrance lingering on my lips, perfectly masking the faint smile at the corner of my mouth. That letter "written by Song Chieu Da himself" was the result of three long, sleepless nights I had spent meticulously mimicking his handwriting. In my past life, to win Song Chieu Da’s favor, I had diligently practiced his calligraphy for half a year, hoping for nothing more than a glance of approval. The result was always the same ice-cold dismissal:

"You... will never compare to Thu Y."

"Miss Tuyet Ngam, is this performance... entertaining enough for you?"

A lazy voice sounded behind me, laced with lethargic malice. It was Tan Tu Chuoc. Before I could turn, his breath fell against the back of my neck. His crimson figure, like a flicker of flame, brushed against my sleeves, bringing with it the scent of pine and warm wine. My whole body stiffened for a moment, but I quickly forced myself to stay calm, feigning confusion.

"What is Young Master Tan talking about? I truly... do not understand."

He laughed, his voice low, his lips nearly brushing my earlobe.

"Forging Song Chieu Da’s handwriting, summoning Lam Thu Y back to the capital."

"Letting the 'white moonlight' see with her own eyes that the one she loves has betrayed her... that is truly a blow that kills the heart."

My heart rhythm suddenly spiked. How... how did he know? I lowered my gaze, a cold thought flashing through my mind: Should I... just kill him to silence him? But quickly, another thought pushed its way in. He... his technique is actually not bad. Much stronger than Song Chieu Da’s. ...It was almost a pity to kill him.

"What are you thinking about?"

Tan Tu Chuoc seemed to detect the change in my eyes, suddenly lifting my chin to force me to face him. I swatted his hand away, the corners of my mouth curling into a mischievous smile. My slender fingers hooked toward him, full of insinuation. He leaned in, his frame pressing close, his nose nearly touching mine, his hot breath smelling of wine and pine needles. The air grew taut, like a stretched string. On one side, his gaze hid a predatory intent. On the other, a dangerous man closing in. A battle of wits? Seduction? Or... playing a larger game together?

"Young Master Tan, that reputation of yours as a dissolute playboy... it truly has deceived quite a few people."

I raised an eyebrow, speaking nonchalantly. He chuckled, his eyes deep.

"Takes one to know one."

"Outsiders praise the eldest daughter of the Giang family as virtuous and dignified, the model for all women. But to see it with my own eyes today..."

He deliberately drew out his words, his gaze like a sharp blade cutting into me, laced with open mockery. In my past life... those very four words, "virtuous and dignified," had become the chains that bound my entire life. For the sake of being "virtuous and dignified," I endured Song Chieu Da’s cold indifference for three long, agonizing months. For the sake of being "virtuous and dignified," I swallowed my bitterness as Lam Thu Y tormented me time and again right in front of him. For the sake of being "virtuous and dignified," I even had to wipe my tears and help him recruit one concubine after another. But now... I raised my head, arched a brow, and said in a light, airy voice:

"So what?"

As the words fell, he leaned in and kissed me. The kiss carried a force that left no room for resistance. I raised my hand to strike him, but he easily restrained me. Bastard! I cursed under my breath, eyes wide, glaring straight at him. But he paid no mind to the fury in my gaze. His lips even curled upward—both arrogant and... interested. He suddenly tightened his grip, the kiss deepening, growing hotter and more suffocating. I was enraged to the point of exploding, so I gritted my teeth... and bit down hard on his lip. He let out a soft groan but didn't pull back; instead, he pushed harder, with even more intensity. In those deep, dark eyes—there was a wicked smile, playful yet hiding something tender, as if he were enjoying a duel meant only for two people who truly understood one another. My breathing became ragged, my chest heaving. From afar, the intermittent sobbing of Lam Thu Y reached my ears... along with the gentle, low voice of Giang Hac Lam. Hmph. Let them continue their sentimental little play. As for me...

— I have already begun rewriting my own story.