Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dusk deepened, the setting sun a bloody orb.

An eerie crimson glow painted the shimmering lake, enveloping the entire Chuanze Residence. As dark clouds surged, the last vestige of sunlight was utterly consumed.

The world plunged into darkness.

Night fell.

Shen Anning’s cold sweat had long dried, yet she shivered uncontrollably, like a sparrow caught in a snowstorm, as if she might not survive the bitter cold.

Despite it being June, she felt a bone-chilling cold penetrate her very core.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her gaze vacant and unfocused. She lay motionless, her body still bearing the lingering weakness of a debilitating illness—exhausted, withered, and frail.

For a moment, she couldn’t discern whether she was in a dream or reality.

If it were a dream, how could Bai Tao stand before her, so vividly and wholly present? How could Huan Xi still be that silent, reticent, low-ranking maid she’d barely seen?

But if it were reality, why did that dream feel so vivid and brutal?

She had just had a nightmare.

In the dream, barely five years after entering the mansion, she fell ill with consumption, becoming bedridden. She dreamed of becoming a chronic invalid, coughing up blood daily, living in unbearable agony. She also dreamed of moving away from the main hall of Chuanze Residence of her own accord, fearing she might infect her moon-like husband, and spending her remaining days in a secluded cottage at the far end of the waterside pavilion.

She even dreamed… that she hadn't died from illness but had been smothered to death—murdered by none other than Lu Anran, the sister-in-law she had spent seven years trying to please.

Oh, no. In the dream, shortly after Shen Anning fell ill, Lu Anran revealed her true surname. It turned out she was actually surnamed Meng—none other than the granddaughter of the Shen family’s head butler, Butler Meng. Back when the Shen family faced disaster, the loyal butler, to protect the last trace of the family’s bloodline, swapped the newborn young mistress with his own granddaughter, who was born on the same night. He had the real heir taken south to safety while his granddaughter endured exile and suffering in her place.

Unexpectedly, the fake young mistress was secretly rescued by the Lu family—old friends of the Shen family who had once arranged a marriage alliance with them—and raised in secrecy as their own, becoming the cherished adoptive daughter, Meng Anran.

Meanwhile, the true heiress—Shen Anning—was reduced to a coarse peasant girl.

For seven years after entering the Lu family, Shen Anning remained completely unaware, making her seven years of fawning over an impostor the biggest joke in the capital.

Even more ironically, before she had even died, news of the Meng woman being elevated to the position of successor wife reached her ears. Within just two years, Meng Anran had borne Lu Suian a daughter and was soon pregnant again.

No wonder—no wonder she had borne no children in the seven years since marrying into the Lu family, no wonder she spent night after night alone in an empty room, no wonder he visited her chambers only a handful of times each year. It turned out that the sister-in-law she had spent seven years trying to please was, in the eyes of the Lu family and Lu Suian himself, the true destined bride all along!

It was true that Meng Anran had stolen her real identity.

But had she, Shen Anning, not also usurped the place that rightfully belonged to Meng Anran in Lu Suian’s heart?

Ah, what a ridiculous, absurd, and laughable dream!

Shen Anning even wondered if it was because her repeated attempts to please Lu Anran had failed, combined with the news that Fang Shi intended to take a concubine for her husband Lu Suian, that she had grown resentful. In her dream, she had painted Lu Suian as a heartless scoundrel and branded Lu Anran with a shameful reputation, all to vent her frustrations through this bizarre nightmare.

Yet, if it were just a dream, why did the pain feel so real? Her body felt as though all the blood had been coughed up, her chest wracked with agony as if every rib had shattered. Even now, awake, she felt an aching pain in every joint—

That kind of pain was searing, heart-wrenching, and unmistakably real.

Just as her thoughts spiraled into numbness and confusion, Bai Tao entered cautiously, her face full of concern, and reported softly, "Madam, the young master has come to see you."

Bai Tao forced a hint of cheer into her voice as she spoke.

The young master was often occupied with official duties, rarely returning to the mansion and even more rarely setting foot in Chuanze Residence. Secretly, Bai Tao had long held a grudge against him for this. Now, assuming he had come because he heard his wife was ill, she felt a flicker of hope.

Madam had been feverish and plagued by nightmares all day, and the entire episode had carried an eerie, inexplicable strangeness, as if she were possessed. It had left Bai Tao unsettled and anxious.

After fully awakening, Madam had dismissed both her and Huan Xi from the room.

Though Madam never spoke of it, Bai Tao knew well how eagerly she awaited the young master’s return each time. Others might not notice, but Bai Tao saw it clearly.

If the young master offered comfort now, she was sure Madam would recover in no time.

But Bai Tao’s hopeful words shattered every last illusion Shen Anning had clung to—

Shen Anning felt her entire body tremble, the air around her growing thin once more.

Her nose and mouth felt blocked, her face contorted under invisible pressure.

She could barely breathe, each inhale shallow, each exhale strained.

Her long, gaunt fingers nearly bent to the point of breaking.

The sensation of impending death crawled over her once again.

She nearly choked to death on the spot.

She raised a hand and clutched her own throat violently.

The long, harrowing scenes from her dream compressed in her mind, replaying frame by frame with startling clarity.

In the dream, she had fallen ill the very day she learned that Fang Shi intended to take a concubine for Lu Suian. It was the first time she had fallen sick since marrying into the Shen family. Just as Fang Shi had said, a village girl who had grown up rough should have a sturdy constitution. That was why the memory of falling ill that day remained vivid, even in her dream.

It was also on that day, as twilight faded and lanterns were lit, that Lu Suian came to see her under the cover of night.

Every time Lu Suian returned home, his mother, Lady Xiao, would earnestly urge him to spend time with his wife in the main chamber, creating opportunities for the young couple to bond.

Lu Suian, devoted to his duties, often went straight to his study to continue working. But at the appointed hour, Lady Xiao would send someone to summon him repeatedly, never relenting until he finally went to the main chamber.

That night in the dream was no different. Upon hearing that young Madam Shen was ill, Lady Xiao sent Lu Suian to see her as soon as he returned home.

The scene from the dream overlapped perfectly with the present reality, as if they were one and the same.

Shen Anning trembled all over, drenched in cold sweat. Did this mean the dream was not just a dream—that it foretold something more?

The moment this thought crossed her mind, a surge of hot blood rushed up. With a choked gasp, she suddenly vomited a mouthful of blood, overwhelmed by fury and despair.

Bai Tao, witnessing this, turned pale with fright. She let out a sharp cry and rushed to fetch the young master from outside, but her sleeve was abruptly seized.

Turning back in shock, Bai Tao saw Shen Anning wipe the blood from her lips, then lie back down. For a long while, Shen Anning stared fixedly at the canopy above the bed. Finally, she spoke, her voice hoarse and deliberate: "Tell him I am too tired to rise and attend to him."

"Ask the young master… to leave."

Shen Anning spoke through gritted teeth, each word measured.

As she spoke, her face was bleak, her voice growing colder with every syllable.

It sounded as though she was barely holding back a surge of barely concealed hatred.

With that, she slowly closed her eyes.

To Bai Tao, Madam’s complexion had long returned to normal, as if the heart-stopping scene moments ago had been nothing but an illusion.

Bai Tao felt both relieved and puzzled. She had long been dissatisfied with Madam’s submissiveness—the Young Master was too indifferent, and Madam too compliant. Even she had found it unbearable on several occasions. This was the first time in over half a year since Madam’s marriage into the Lu family that she had displayed such coldness toward the Young Master—even if not directly to his face. It was truly unprecedented.

After careful thought, Bai Tao concluded that Madam must have been deeply wronged and hurt earlier that day at Jinyuan, prompting her outburst and causing her to take it out on the Young Master.

With this in mind, Bai Tao made no further attempt to persuade her. She lifted the curtain and strode out purposefully.

At the same time, Lu Suian pushed aside the beaded curtain and stepped into the main hall.

The beaded curtain was strung with wild grass seeds, handcrafted by Shen Anning herself. Each time someone passed through, the beads clattered softly against one another.

Lu Suian’s brows furrowed slightly. He had always preferred quiet and cleanliness and disliked noise—but the expression vanished as quickly as it appeared, his face returning to its usual composure.

No one could easily detect any displeasure in him.

Upon entering, he did not head straight for the bedroom. Instead, he turned and walked to the window, standing with his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed outside.

His posture was upright. He had just returned from duty and still wore his official robe. The green robe was stiff and impeccably pressed; even the white undergarment visible beneath the round-collared robe was spotless and utterly creaseless—making him appear like a sturdy pine tree clinging to a sheer cliff: imposing and unapproachable.

Lu Suian served at the Dali Temple. As a Sixth-Rank Judicial Reviewer, his exceptional abilities had enabled him to assist his superiors in reviewing and overturning several major cases. Coupled with the new emperor’s reign and the Lu family’s status as trusted officials of the previous court, though Lu Suian held only a sixth-rank position, he effectively performed judicial duties equivalent to those of a fifth-rank Dali Zhengcheng.

Having long dealt with death-row convicts, he carried an aura of solemnity and intimidation—one that commanded respect without needing to raise his voice.

Those familiar with the situation knew it simply as… the deathly aura.

Thus, even though Bai Tao harbored discontent, she never dared overstep in Lu Suian’s presence.

At the sound from the doorway, Lu Suian turned his head slightly.

He had expected to be greeted by Shen Anning, holding a bowl of soup—but—

“Young Master, Madam is unwell today and regrets she cannot rise to attend to you. Please… see to yourself!”

When Bai Tao’s indignant tone met his stern gaze, she instinctively faltered.

She could not fully replicate the coldness in Shen Anning’s earlier tone—capturing less than a third of it.

Yet it was enough to make Lu Suian frown slightly.

His relationship with his new wife, Shen Anning, was not deep. Burdened by official duties, he had little energy to devote to her. Regarding this sudden marriage, maintaining courtesy and peace was all he could manage. His mother’s relentless matchmaking efforts had left him frustrated and resigned.

He had assumed his wife’s claimed illness was merely a ploy for attention. He expected today to be no different from before—a table laden with soups and dishes, meticulous service, silent meals, and silence between them.

But… was she actually ill?

At this thought, Lu Suian calmly lifted his eyes, looking past Bai Tao toward the bedroom, and asked casually, “Did you send for a doctor?”

Bai Tao gritted her teeth slightly and replied, “We sent for one several times, but all the doctors we normally call from the southern city happened to be out on visits today. The earliest one can come is tomorrow morning.”

As she spoke, Bai Tao’s eyes reddened with anger. From afternoon until now, despite repeated requests, not a single doctor had arrived.

Bai Tao knew it was either because the servants had shirked their duty—or because someone was deliberately ignoring it.

Her resentment was evident.

Yet upon hearing this, Lu Suian’s expression remained perfectly calm. He showed no worry, no concern, no anger. After a moment of silence, he called in his personal servant, Chang Li, and instructed him to fetch a doctor.

Seeing this, some of Bai Tao’s dissatisfaction faded—though her feelings remained complicated. After a moment, she glanced toward the inner room and, steeling herself, prepared to boldly ask the Young Master to step into the bedroom to see Madam. But the instant he finished giving orders, Lu Suian said impassively, “See that she’s properly cared for.”

His tone was flat, devoid of inflection.

It sounded as though he were instructing them on the most mundane matter.

With that, he turned and left calmly—showing not the slightest intention of going in to see her.

The beaded curtains clinked softly again, emitting their crisp sound.

Bai Tao: “…”

…

In the bedroom, Shen Anning clenched her fists tightly, her long nails digging deep into her palms.

In an instant, a clear tear traced down her temple.

She raised a finger and gently wiped it away.

Her eyes held a cold smile.