Chapter 3 — The Crimson Bloom of Ill-Fated Ties

It must be said, this was truly a pair of wretched creatures, possessing hearts as dark and calculating as they were meticulously hidden. From the very beginning, the child I carried was a girl, while the one she bore was a boy. These two had waited three years, incarnating into our household simultaneously with the singular, venomous purpose of reaching adulthood only to slaughter our entire family, ostensibly to “avenge” the lives they led in a previous existence. Initially, all remained peaceful, until one fateful afternoon. By some unknown turn of events, the inner voice of Zhang Wenzhao, residing within my womb, suddenly became audible to us, and the pair instantly realized their deception had been laid bare. From that moment, they knew that only one of them could survive to carry out their vendetta.

In their previous lives, Yun Shi had been a woman blinded by obsession, utterly lacking in conviction. Whatever Zhang Wenzhao demanded, she obeyed, eventually meeting her end under the executioner's blade. Even now, the male child utilized his honeyed tongue to convince her to relinquish her chance at life, persuading her to surrender the opportunity for vengeance to him. Naturally, she consented. Once they had resolved that one must die to ensure the other's survival, they began to weave a complex web of redirection. Having overheard conversations with the prisoner Wu Lao Er, Zhang Wenzhao had deduced the meaning behind the symbols we had secretly scribbled—labels for potential traps. He intentionally acted in defiance: he feigned delight when I consumed dog meat, yet resisted when I ate watermelon. His lover followed suit, even kicking me when I indulged in the fruit.

Yet, in the end, they could not overcome their base biological impulses. Yun Shi detested pork skin, and Zhang Wenzhao, like the prisoner, despised anything cold or cooling. Thus, despite their elaborate theatrical performance, Chu and I remained afflicted—one vomiting, the other suffering from violent dysentery. Their grand scheme failed at the final hurdle. Just as Lady Chu resolved to terminate her pregnancy, these two conniving spirits concocted a desperate diversion. They made the girl child shriek at the exact moment Lady Chu feigned a fall, pretending the pain was felt by the child in her womb, while the male conspirator remained deathly silent, biting his tongue against the agony.

I had failed to comprehend it earlier, never suspecting they were not only acquainted but actively collaborating. If it hadn’t been for Zhang Wenzhao, a supposed native of the Zhu Province, failing to recognize the local delicacies and thus exposing that he was not from the southern regions, we might truly have been deceived. I had planned to consume the safflower decoction to end my pregnancy; as the fetus was still small, the gender would remain unidentifiable. Meanwhile, the male conspirator would silently wait out the ten months of gestation. Once born, he would be untouchable. Even if Lady Chu and I spoke of hearing a fetus’s thoughts, no one would believe such madness, and we could not bring ourselves to murder a living, breathing infant.

It was diabolical. Truly, it was beyond wicked. After I recounted my deduction, silence hung heavy in the air. Then, the girl child began to weep—a small, pitiful sound, like an abandoned kitten sobbing in the dark. The boy followed suit, his voice high and frantic, “Mother, can you hear me? Mother, do you truly have no need for me? I am your own child! Mother… oh, Mother!” Lady Chu began to tremble violently, tears cascading like pearls from a severed string. The child within her responded, shifting restlessly. I gripped her wrist, lowering my voice to a harsh whisper. “Do not waver. Neither can be spared.”

Her eyes were bloodshot. “But…”

“But what?” I interrupted, my resolve hardening. “We have verified everything. You know better than I that these are two demons wearing the skins of infants. If you soften now and give him life, ten years from now, he will be the one holding a blade to your throat, smiling as he calls you mother.”

She shuddered, her fingers trembling as she stroked her belly. As her fingertips touched the fabric, the cries resumed, one sharp and one raspy, as if they sought to tear our hearts asunder.

“What if…” she wiped her tears. “What if this is all just a hallucination? What if we are mistaken? Is it too reckless? And how shall we explain this to the master?”

“There is no mistake,” I shook my head firmly. “Could a hallucination be heard by two people simultaneously? We have tested this. As for the master, we shall simply stage another accident. In short, these two—not a single one can be kept.”

As soon as those words left my lips, the silence within our wombs became absolute. Lady Chu continued to sob quietly. I closed my eyes, refusing to let her see that my own hands were trembling. If I were not driven to the very brink of ruin, would I ever wish to be such a cold-hearted mother? The following afternoon, I veiled my face and traveled eighteen miles to procure the safflower. Lady Chu and I met in the study. The doors and windows were bolted shut, and all the maids had been sent away.