Chapter 6 — Pierced Through the Heart by My Husband, I Am Reborn

Song Chieu Da departed from Jinling to take up his official post in the capital. A month later, Tan Tu Chuoc and I followed at a leisurely pace, finally arriving at the imperial city. As the procession of Princess Phuc Duong reached the outskirts of the capital, assassins suddenly burst forth from the dense woods. A sharpened arrow whistled through the air, aimed directly at the royal carriage! In that split second, balanced on the razor's edge of life and death, Tan Tu Chuoc and I charged forward on horseback. He swung his blade to deflect the arrow while I yanked the princess aside, narrowly avoiding a lethal strike. In my past life, Song Chieu Da had used this exact ploy to help Hong Co clear her name as an outlaw. But in this life, I was determined to make him taste the bitter fruit he had sown himself. Hidden upon the body of the fallen assassin was a secret missive, written in a hand identical to Song Chieu Da’s official memorials. It was I who had personally planted it there. The Emperor, enraged beyond measure, immediately issued an imperial decree to hunt him down across the entire capital. Yet, when the imperial guards stormed the Song estate, they found only a teacup that still held a trace of warmth—the man himself had already vanished.

Upon returning to the capital, I finally learned the truth about Tan Tu Chuoc’s background: he was the young heir to the Grand General’s household, the nephew of the Empress herself! It turned out that years ago, after he had beaten the third prince in the middle of the street, his family had immediately packed him off to Jinling to hide from the fallout. Standing before the imposing gates of the General’s residence, I gripped my sleeves, my heart in turmoil. Who was I? A daughter of a fallen house—what right had I to stand beside someone from such a prestigious lineage? Yet, the moment I sent my calling card inside, the estate erupted in fireworks as if it were the New Year. The old General strode out with the grace of a tiger, clapping a hand on Tan Tu Chuoc’s shoulder so hard the young man staggered back.

"You rascal! You finally managed to trick a wife into marrying you!"

He then turned to me with a face full of radiant wrinkles and smiled. "Little one, do not be afraid. This wretch is infamous throughout the capital; decent girls scatter the moment they catch sight of him!"

Madam Tan wiped away tears, stuffing a jade bracelet into my hand as she muttered, "Buddha bless us, this little devil has finally been married off… or rather, someone has finally agreed to marry him!"

I was left speechless. At a local teahouse, the storyteller bellowed to the crowd, "At seven, young master Tan burned down the Imperial Academy; at ten, he sent a Xiongnu envoy home in tears; at fifteen, he broke three ribs of the third prince over a courtesan!"

Tan Tu Chuoc kicked over a tea table in a rage. "Lies! That swine was the one harassing the girl first!"

The patrons scrambled in panic like birds flushed from a nest. I pressed a hand to my forehead, finally understanding the truth: it was not that the Tan family felt I was unworthy—it was that, aside from me, absolutely no one dared to marry him.

When a wayward prince attempted a coup, the fires of war spread to Dung City. The Tan family received orders to march, and I followed the army into battle. In my previous life, Song Chieu Da had taken me to the front lines. On the eve of a great victory, I was captured by the rebels. He had personally drawn his bow, and an arrow had pierced my heart. He had said, "Giang Tuyet Ngam, as long as you are alive, I can never marry Hong Co with the pomp and honor she deserves." But in this life, I wanted him to pay for his blood with his own. Scouts reported that Song Chieu Da had become an advisor to the rebellious prince, and Hong Co was among the insurgent ranks. In my past, he had been the one to suppress rebellions; in this life, he was the instigator. How ironic! Under the walls of Dung City, the Tan army advanced with unstoppable force. Watching from the ramparts, I looked down at the retreating rebels in their chaotic flight. Then, I saw him. Song Chieu Da, clad in blood-stained white robes, stood out amidst the sea of chaos. He raised his head, his eyes as venomous as a serpent’s, locking onto me through the storm of arrows. The corners of his lips twisted into a wretched, distorted smile.

"Giang Tuyet Ngam!"

He shrieked, his voice cutting through the roar of war drums. "Do you think you have won?!"

Fool. I slowly raised my bow, nocked an arrow, and drew the string—exactly as he had once done to me. The arrow tore through the air, whistling like the scythe of heaven. Song Chieu Da’s pupils dilated. His face contorted with absolute, incredulous terror. In this life, I would show no mercy. One arrow—to repay everything. So, he knew fear after all. He knew pain. As the arrow pierced his heart, his expression froze. His eyes were filled with the panic of one who finally understood the despair of the betrayed. Hong Co rushed from the chaos, clutching his falling body. She looked up at me—there was no hatred in her eyes, only liberation. She drew a dagger and plunged it into her own heart. In the end, she chose to die with him. But what did Song Chieu Da deserve? Why should he be followed into death by anyone? A traitor, cold-blooded and wretched to the core. Was he even worthy? She was truly a woman beyond foolish.

Tan Tu Chuoc stood quietly by my side, saying nothing, simply reaching out to hold my hand. "It is over," he whispered. I looked down at the battlefield littered with corpses and let out a soft laugh. Yes, it was finally over. The hatred, the obsession, and the wounds of a lifetime vanished into the mist along with that arrow. When we returned in triumph to the capital, the first snow of the season turned the sky white. At the end of the snow-covered street, Tan Tu Chuoc waited for me, the lantern-lit gates of his estate glowing behind him. He reached out and called to me, "Giang Tuyet Ngam… let’s go home." I gripped his hand tightly and stepped into the winter snow. In this life, I could finally live for myself. Not for anyone else, not for vengeance, but because I chose happiness.

I did not stay in the capital. After the rebellion was crushed, I took the loyalty of the remnants of the Giang house and returned to Jinling. In this life, I would not be a wife to be used, nor a pawn in someone else’s game. I would be the master of the Giang house, the master of my own fate. Within two years, the banners of the Giang trading guild swept across the North and the South. Silk, tea, salt, iron, and maritime trade—from the Western Regions to the South Seas, my footprint was everywhere. The accounting skills I had once learned just to please Song Chieu Da now made me unimaginably wealthy. The archery and horsemanship I had mastered just to survive now served as my protection across mountains and forests. Every spring and autumn, I personally escorted supplies to the frontier. The soldiers of the Tan army would see me and offer respectful smiles: "The Master of the Giang House has arrived!"

In the fifth year, at the beginning of spring, Tan Tu Chuoc discarded his armor and rode alone to Jinling. He stormed into my counting house and slammed his command seal onto the desk. "Giang Tuyet Ngam! I am done being a general!"

I clicked my abacus, not bothering to look up. "Oh, and what do you intend to do instead?"

He snatched the ledger away and leaned in close, his words clear and firm: "I intend to be your husband."

Three days later, Jinling was ablaze with festive lanterns. It was not Miss Giang marrying into the general’s house, but the Master of the Giang guild taking the young General Tan as her own. As the wedding carriage arrived, the whole city poured out to watch the spectacle. Tan Tu Chuoc wore the red wedding robes, riding his horse with pride, looking at the young women throwing handkerchiefs with a cold smile: "What are you staring at? I am the one being married off! Have you never seen that before?!" He was still the same as the day we met—arrogant, straightforward, and beholden to no one. The following year, my son, little An An, was born. Tan Tu Chuoc was so overjoyed he danced for days, agonizing over a name for three days and nights before finally choosing: Duc. Five years later, the Giang merchant fleet discovered a new island in the distant seas. A new journey… was about to begin.

-End-