Chapter 18 — Wedding Day Switch: My Husband Traded Me Away

He seemed to be enduring a pain of immense, violent intensity. Upon seeing me step across the threshold, a flash of astonishment crossed his eyes, swiftly followed by a profound struggle. He loathed the thought of letting me witness this vulnerable, broken state of his.

Get out.

He commanded in a low, hoarse growl. I did not obey. I set the porcelain bowl of soup upon the table, then walked silently to his side and lowered myself to the floor. My gaze settled directly upon his left leg. The limb was tightly concealed beneath the heavy black fabric of his trousers, revealing nothing to the casual observer. Yet I knew all too well what horrific sights lay hidden beneath that cloth.

My Lord, would you permit this concubine to examine your wound?

My voice was barely a whisper, infinitely tender, carrying a profound ache that I had not even known I possessed. His entire body stiffened rigidly. Abruptly, he jerked his head up, fixing his dark eyes upon me with a piercing glare. That look was reminiscent of a wounded beast, driven to the brink of absolute fury, overflowing with suspicion and fierce defense.

Scram!

He barked once more, his voice rising in volume. Yet I was not frightened by his outburst. I simply remained kneeling there, gazing up at him with a gaze both limpid and resolute.

My Lord, I am not a stranger.

I am your lawful wife.

Your wounds, your suffering—they are burdens that I should share alongside you.

If you cannot trust the rest of the world, can it be that you cannot trust me either?

My words acted much like a master key, turning the heaviest, most rusted lock deep within the darkest recesses of his soul. The guarded hostility and wariness in his eyes began to fracture, piece by piece, gradually dissolving away. In their place emerged a swirling tempest of complex emotions that I could scarcely comprehend. There was inner torment, profound agony, and even a fragile trace of weakness so faint it was nearly imperceptible. The two of us remained locked in that quiet gaze, suspended in time as the very moments seemed to cease their flow. How much time passed, I could not tell. At last, he exhaled as though every last ounce of strength had drained from his frame, slumping back heavily against the high back of the chair. He closed his eyes, speaking in a tone worn down to the absolute limits of exhaustion.

As you wish.

Those two brief words represented his ultimate concession, marking a complete and unreserved surrender of trust placed entirely into my hands. I reached out, my fingers gently rolling back the heavy fabric of his trouser leg. When that ravaged limb was finally laid bare before my eyes, I could not stop myself from drawing in a sharp, shuddering breath.

It was a leg of such terrifying devastation that it defied easy description. From the knee downward, scarcely a single patch of healthy skin remained intact. The flesh was crisscrossed by a horrifying lattice of scars running in every direction. There were jagged slashes from blades, punctures from arrows, and puckered, blackened marks left by searing flames. Most gruesome of all was the mass of scar tissue situated squarely over the kneecap; the bone beneath appeared to have been systematically pulverized by a blunt instrument long ago, warping it into a grotesque and unnatural shape. Fresh injuries were layered relentlessly over ancient ones, and in several places, a dark, viscous fluid still oozed from the broken tissue. The calf muscle had wasted away entirely, withering to nothing, creating a stark and agonizing contrast against his other limb, which remained powerful and heavily muscled. This was no longer merely a leg; it was the harrowing medal of honor recording half a lifetime spent fighting across perilous battlefields, and simultaneously, the pillar of shame marking his tragic betrayal and fall into the abyss. As I stared upon that ruined limb, something within my chest tightened with a vicious, suffocating grip. The pain was so sharp it felt nearly impossible to draw breath. At last, I finally understood why his temperament had undergone such a drastic transformation, why he had grown so volatile, so fiercely cold and distant toward all living souls. Any man forced to endure such agonizing torment and treacherous betrayal could never hope to remain an ordinary human being again.

The corners of my eyes burned with a sudden, hot moisture, but I held back my tears. I knew all too well that pity was the very last thing he desired from anyone. Reaching into the folds of my tunic, I withdrew a small porcelain vial—an item I had prepared well in advance. Within it rested a specialized healing ointment concocted by my own hands, following the ancient secret recipes of the Shen family. For injuries festering over many long years, its restorative properties were nothing short of miraculous. Removing the stopper, I tapped out a quantity of the fine powder and dusted it evenly across the expanse of his mutilated flesh. Following this, I produced a clean strip of white linen and set about binding the injury with meticulous care. My movements were feather-light, suffused with an infinite tenderness, driven by the lingering fear that I might cause him even the slightest twinge of pain.

He kept his eyes closed throughout, offering not a single word. Yet I could distinctly feel that his frame, which had remained coiled like a taut spring, was slowly relaxing inch by inch. His breathing, too, gradually settled into a steady, even rhythm. By the time I finished wrapping the wound, exhaustion had overtaken him, and he had drifted into a quiet slumber against the back of the chair. His brows remained tightly furrowed even in sleep, as though he were still battling some immense agony within the realm of his dreams. I gazed softly upon his features, which retained a trace of profound weariness and vulnerability even in repose, while an unprecedented wave of yearning surged within my heart. Slowly, I extended my hand, desperately longing to smooth away those deeply etched lines of torment from his brow.