Hua Jing watched as her stepmother and stepsister walked in with poise and splendor.
Their movents were graceful, their expressions perfectly composed, their steps asured like they were walking on clouds. To anyone else, they looked like the picture of a noble family—elegant, dignified, respectable.
But to her—
Hua Jing felt the blood in her veins grow colder and colder with every step they took.
Beside her, Zhao Yan remained silent. But he had been holding her hand this entire ti, and now he could feel the shift in her deanor.
The change in her grip.
The way her fingers trembled slightly before tightening, as if grasping onto him for support without even realizing it.
She was no longer just holding his hand—she was clutching it.
Yet, Zhao Yan said nothing. He simply held her hand back, firm and unwavering, offering silent reassurance as his sharp gaze stayed on the approaching figures.
anwhile, Hua Mingrong—the great, noble Lord Hua—walked with an air of practiced humility, his robes swaying as he made his way forward.
He moved gracefully, his face calm, but Hua Jing could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the tension in his jaw.
Finally, he reached the emperor and empress, stopping a few feet away before lowering himself into a deep bow.
"Your Majesties," he said smoothly, his voice perfectly asured, neither too loud nor too soft. "This humble subject expresses his deepest gratitude for the honor of having his daughter wed into the imperial family. It brings great joy to my heart to know she is in such capable hands."
Hua Jing barely resisted the urge to scoff. Capable hands? The man who had discarded her like trash was now pretending to care about her well-being?
The emperor nodded in acknowledgnt. "You raised a fine daughter, Lord Hua. She has adapted well to palace life."
A tight smile ford on Hua Mingrong’s lips, but Hua Jing caught the flicker of sothing else in his eyes.
Displeasure.
He had lost control over her.
And he hated it.
Still, his voice remained steady as he continued, "It has been quite so ti since I last saw my daughter. Would Your Majesty permit to greet her properly?"
The emperor gave a slight nod. "You may."
Hua Jing’s heart pounded in protest. No, no, no—I don’t want to speak to this man!
But there was nothing she could do.
She could only sit there, her back straight, her expression neutral as she watched Hua Mingrong, Lady Chen, and Hua Ling approach.
Lord Hua bowed first—to Zhao Yan, as custom dictated.
The bow was deep and respectful, but Hua Jing didn’t miss the flicker of resentnt in his eyes as he lowered his head. No matter how much he hated it, Zhao Yan was the crown prince.
A man Hua Mingrong had to bow to.
Beside him, Hua Ling followed suit, lowering her head gracefully—but unlike her father, her hatred was not well-hidden.
She didn’t even try to mask it.
Her fists trembled at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as her entire body scread of reluctance.
How the tables have turned, Hua Jing thought with so satisfaction.
For years, she had been forced to endure their arrogance, their condescension, their cruelty.
Now, they were the ones lowering themselves before her.
But even as she relished this mont, her hatred for them remained as strong as ever.
Once the formalities were done, Hua Mingrong straightened and smiled—too forced, too fake—as he said, "Daughter, this father has missed you greatly."
Hua Jing wanted to laugh in his face.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she kept her expression pleasant and rely inclined her head slightly. "Is that so?"
Hua Mingrong’s smile twitched. "Indeed. In fact, a grand festival is being held at the estate. I was hoping you would make an appearance."
Hua Jing blinked.
A festival?
What business did they have hosting a festival? What was happening at the Hua estate that required such an event?
Before she could ask, another voice spoke up.
"Sister," Hua Ling said sweetly, lowering her gaze with an air of practiced innocence. "I have found a husband. The wedding proceedings will begin soon."
Hua Jing almost choked.
A wedding?
Hua Ling smiled, the sa sickly sweet smile that Hua Jing had seen countless tis before.
"It would bring great joy if you attended," she continued smoothly. "Of course, it is fine if you co alone, but if His Highness could accompany you, that would be even better."
Hua Jing stared at her.
She could barely process what she was hearing.
It wasn’t that the idea of Hua Ling getting married was impossible.
No, it was entirely possible—and entirely predictable.
Hua Ling had always copied everything she did.
When Hua Jing had taken an interest in a particular type of embroidery, Hua Ling suddenly beca obsessed with it.
When Hua Jing had decided she wanted to learn the guqin, Hua Ling also wanted to learn it—despite having zero musical talent.
And now—
Now that Hua Jing was married, Hua Ling had to be married too.
Because heaven forbid that she ever be left behind.
Still, sothing about this didn’t sit right.
For Hua Ling to rush into a marriage like this...
It ant there was more to the story.
So Hua Jing forced on a smile and asked, "Which man has chard my dear sister enough to make her settle down?"
At that, Hua Ling’s face lit up.
"It is Xu Ming," she said with pride. "The scholar."
Hua Jing’s blood ran cold.
The world seed to slow.
Her smile froze in place.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Xu Ming.
The na echoed in her mind, rattling her thoughts like a relentless storm.
The sa Xu Ming from her original world.
The sa man who had once claid to love her.
The sa man who had betrayed her, discarded her, abandoned her for Hua Ling.
And now, history was repeating itself.
A bitter laugh almost escaped her lips.
Almost.
She wanted to lash out yet at the sa ti, she felt sothing warm on her hands and she quickly looked down to see...
Reviews
All reviews (0)