Truth Be Told

Truth Be Told

I came down with a strange affliction—I could only speak the truth.

The day the Emperor betrothed me, he asked who my heart belonged to.

Without thinking, I blurted out: “Lord Ashford has a handsome face, pity he’s so frail the wind could knock him over. He coughs a hundred times a day—probably not long for this world. General Warrington is valiant and striking, definitely has eight-pack abs from training, but he’s always scowling. Would he hit his wife?”

The moment the words left my mouth, the air froze solid.

I met Julian’s and Marcus’s murderous glares.

And in that instant, I realized—I’d spilled every last thought in my head.

1

The entire banquet fell into dead silence.

I went pale with terror, trembling all over.

On the dragon throne, the Emperor laughed so hard he nearly fell over. “This little Whitmore girl is honest to a fault. Whatever I ask, she answers. Endearing.”

My father’s soul had nearly left his body. He barely managed to collect himself and forced a sheepish smile. “Claire is young. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

The other guests quickly changed the subject, and the lively atmosphere returned.

I sat back down, my face as white as a sheet. Julian on my left wore a sneer. Marcus on my right had turned sideways, glaring at me darkly.

If looks could kill, I’d be a pig trussed up for slaughter.

I wiped the cold sweat from my brow and raised my wine glass to Julian.

*[Ha, Lord Ashford looks so healthy. He’ll definitely live to be ninety-nine.]*

That’s what I imagined myself saying. But what came out was:

“Julian, do you have a twitch in your eye? Why do you keep glancing over here?”

My eyes went wide with shock. I clamped my hand over my mouth. Julian’s calm, unruffled mask shattered at my words. He stared at me in disbelief.

I slapped myself twice, hard, and whipped my head away from him.

But I ended up meeting Marcus’s mocking grin.

Me: “What are you looking at? You’re no different.”

The wine glass in Marcus’s hand shattered.

I was losing my mind. My face twisted in anguish, my fingers digging into my skirt so hard I nearly tore the fabric.

Damn it!

That curse yesterday was real!!

I was dead meat. I’d just pissed off two terrifying men at once!

2

It all started yesterday.

My useless older brother asked me to buy rouge for his future wife.

I was the laziest and most useless person in the house, so I had no excuse to refuse.

Fine. I’d go. But he insisted I go to a shop on the outskirts of town.

Was he deliberately trying to torment me?

I stormed off, borrowed a donkey from the butler, and wobbled my way to the suburbs.

And then disaster struck.

The donkey stepped on something. I heard a “Hey!” and jumped off to check.

Nothing. Just a ginseng root that looked vaguely human-shaped.

I thought my ears were playing tricks on me. I climbed back on the donkey and heard another scream: “Hey! You son of a bitch!”

This time I heard it loud and clear. I jumped down and rescued the ginseng root.

It immediately started cursing my ancestors. I slapped it. It cursed again. I slapped it a second time.

The ginseng fell silent.

I marveled, “Well, well. A ginseng that’s become sentient!”

The ginseng spat at me. “You stepped on me twice, you bastard! I’ll curse you!!”

I planned to pocket it and take it home for my father to use as a tonic. But the ginseng was clever. It slipped out of my hand and, before running off, turned back and left a few words floating in the air.

“I CURSE YOU!!!!”

I didn’t take it seriously at the time. Who knew it would actually come true?

I was fidgeting, unable to sit still. My words had worked perfectly on Julian. He wouldn’t even look at me anymore.

Marcus, on the other hand, was perfectly at ease. He’d watch the dancers, then turn and give me a little smile.

Like a wolf eyeing its prey.

Right before the banquet ended, Marcus suddenly stood up and bowed to the Emperor.

“Your Majesty, I find great joy in Lady Claire’s presence. If you intend to grant me a bride, I humbly request that it be Claire Whitmore.”

Cold sweat broke out all over me.

No way? Marry him? No, thank you!

Marcus spent most of his time on the battlefield. I’d never heard of him having any romantic interests. Who knew what his private life was like!

And he was so fierce. What if he married me and then started beating me?

Wahhh! Save me!

I was on the verge of tears when I met Julian’s calm, unruffled gaze.

Julian gave a faint smile.

My expression must have been hilarious, because the corners of his mouth lifted. Then he stood up.

“I, too, have long admired Claire. I was waiting until she was a little older to ask for her hand. I didn’t expect General Warrington to share my sentiments. I fear my beloved might be taken from me, so I beg Your Majesty to grant my wish.”

My scalp was about to explode.

Were these two psychopaths joking around?!

Julian had once lived next door to the Whitmore estate while convalescing. He’d never even looked at me.

And Marcus? Forget it. My brother and I were known as the Capital City’s top ne’er-do-wells. He was the big one, I was the little one. Marcus had taken a disliking to us the moment he returned to the city.

He’d either throw me in jail to reflect on my actions or make me stand on the busiest street and recite that damned *Good Citizen Handbook* in public, humiliating me for all to see.

Marcus might not remember, but I sure did!

3

The Emperor stroked his beard, looking surprised. “Everyone says the Whitmore girl is the hardest to marry off. How is it that you two talented men are fighting over her?”

My father had already wiped cold sweat off his brow a hundred times. He stood up shakily again.

I wanted to refuse, but a large hand instantly clamped over my mouth.

“What else are you planning to say?” Marcus threatened.

His palm was rough, scraping against my face. It was so hot that I blushed, barely daring to breathe.

“Is it appropriate for General Warrington to lay hands on someone in front of everyone?”

Julian’s icy voice came from beside me. Flustered and embarrassed, I slapped Marcus’s hand away and blurted out, “Your hand is scratchy.”

Marcus’s teasing expression instantly darkened. Then a voice came from the dais: “If you had to choose between the two, Claire, which one would you pick?”

The Emperor’s question caught me off guard. Before I could stop myself, I heard my own voice say, “Julian, of course. My mother said I should marry someone I can control. Julian is so weak, I could handle him with one hand.”

…

Great. Julian’s face had gone dark too.

The Emperor roared with laughter. My father stood beside him, dumbstruck, swaying in the wind.

Thanks. Please hand me a knife so I can end this myself.

My face was deathly pale. The two men beside me were black as thunder. The oppressive atmosphere nearly made me fall to my knees and beg for mercy.

It was my father who reacted first. “Nonsense! Apologize to Lord Ashford immediately! His Lordship is a man of great understanding. You can’t just make jokes like that!”

He stepped forward and knelt, his face full of pain. “Your Majesty, it is an honor that you would choose a husband for my daughter. But she is playful by nature. If she has offended Lord Ashford and General Warrington, I beg you to be lenient. I will discipline her properly and make amends.”

I knew I’d caused a huge disaster. Julian might look frail and harmless, but he was the most cunning of them all. Marcus commanded a large army and was deeply trusted by the Emperor. I’d offended both of them at once. There was no place for me in the Capital City anymore!

Dejected, I bowed deeply to Julian, keeping my mouth firmly shut.

Julian gave a faint smile and whispered as I straightened up, “Don’t be afraid.”

I was surprised. Was he being nice today?

I turned to bow to Marcus, but he stopped me before I could bend.

“Scared already? You weren’t afraid when you fought me in the street back then.”

My face was ashen. I didn’t want to argue. If I opened my mouth, this farce would never end.

The old Emperor watched, amused. After a long moment, he stroked his beard and said, “If you can’t decide, why not marry Claire to the Crown Prince? He’s a bit older, but he’s steady and reliable. She could bring some joy to the Eastern Palace.”

“No!”

“No!”

“Your Majesty, please reconsider!”

Three voices spoke at once. I didn’t say anything, because my mouth was covered again.

This time it was Julian. His hand was softer, smoother, and very pale.

I realized what I was thinking and shook my head. Julian withdrew his hand and said, “I have loved Claire for a long time. She has already chosen me. I am willing to be controlled by her.”

At this, the banquet erupted.

The illustrious Lord Ashford had bent the knee for the Capital City’s top ne’er-do-well?

Marcus swept his gaze over my face. “I suggest we let Claire decide for herself.”

All eyes turned to me.

I tried to fake a faint. My legs buckled, and I almost succeeded. But I didn’t fall.

Because Marcus caught me. He gritted his teeth and said, word by word, “Go ahead. Say it.”

I wanted to die.

If I had to choose one and offend the other, I might as well offend both.

I blinked.

“I’ll take both!”

4

Obviously, I couldn’t have both. So they gave us three months to decide.

The whole Capital City was in an uproar. People were even placing bets on who I’d choose.

My brother kept pressing me to tell him who I liked so he could make a fortune at the gambling den.

I wanted to know too! After he kept pestering me, I thought it over and finally settled on Julian.

My mother said, “Julian himself admitted he’ll listen to you. You’ll live a life of luxury if you marry him.”

My brother said, “I think Marcus is the better choice. How many years does Julian have left? And little sister, you don’t know this, but a happy marriage isn’t about who listens to whom—it’s about—” He gave me a knowing look.

I didn’t get it. Instead, I thought of something else. “If Julian dies early, all his money will be mine, right? Mother, brother, I’ve made up my mind. I’m choosing Julian!”

So my brother took me to the gambling den. I disguised myself in the latest fashionable attire of a young gentleman from the Capital, tied my hair up, and wore a white jade crown. We rode our horses to the den.

The place was packed. The bets on Julian and Marcus were evenly split.

My brother threw down a thick stack of banknotes. “All on Julian!”

His loud voice drew a crowd. Everyone started talking at once. Someone said, “Brother, it won’t be Lord Ashford. General Warrington has an army. He could just take Claire by force.”

“Nonsense! Lord Ashford is refined and handsome. That’s what noble ladies like.”

“Pfft. I’m betting on General Warrington.”

I snorted. “If you ask me, neither of them is good enough for Miss Whitmore. I saw her once. She’s as beautiful as a fairy descended from heaven—”

Before I could finish, a strong hand slammed me onto the betting table.

“The General is here!”

At the announcement, the entire gambling den fell silent, trembling.

My face was pressed against the table. I struggled. “You—bastard—there are—so many people—and you—pick on me.”

Marcus pressed down harder. He said coldly to the owner, “Do you want to keep this place running? What kind of bets are you taking?”

The owner knelt, on the verge of tears. “General, please spare me. The public outcry was too strong. Even if I didn’t take these bets, someone else would. Please let me off. Treat me like a fart and let me go.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “With that line, Marcus will never fart again!”

I found it so funny that I kept laughing. Marcus grabbed both my wrists and pulled me up.

“Is that so?”

His voice was ice-cold.

My smile vanished.

When he saw the pile of banknotes all placed on Julian, his face darkened even further.

“Seal this place!” he roared, and dragged me out of the den.

My useless brother immediately shouted, “Put it all on General Warrington! That wasn’t me who bet on Julian! I’m betting on General Warrington!”

5

Marcus and I were back on the bustling streets of the Capital.

He tossed a copy of the *Good Citizen Handbook* at me, then sat down on a stone bench under a tree. “Read.”

“What law did I break?” I slammed the book onto the stone table. “There were so many people there! Why did you only grab me?”

“Who told you to go to a gambling den?”

“It was my first time, and you caught me. You did it on purpose!”

“If I hadn’t gone, how would I have known you’d already made your choice?” He stood up, towering over me.

The pressure was immense. I swallowed hard, not wanting to back down. “So what? Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” Marcus sneered. He pushed me against a tree. “I don’t get jealous. If I like a girl, I just take her!”

He’d been on the battlefield. Scaring someone like me was child’s play. I tried to run, but he had me trapped. I could only stand there, facing him.

He was terrifying. If I married him, I’d die of fright one day.

Seeing that he’d genuinely scared me, Marcus let go. After a long moment, his voice softened slightly. “So now you know who to choose, right?”

I wanted to lie. *[Uh-huh. I’ll think about it.]*

What came out was: “I choose Julian. You’re terrifying.”

Marcus looked like he was about to explode.

Only then did I notice the crowd of onlookers. They’d formed a big circle around us, watching intently.

I was mortified, scared, and humiliated.

I burst into tears.

The news that General Warrington had made Claire Whitmore cry on the streets of the Capital spread through the city in half a day.

He couldn’t console me the whole way home. He finally dropped me off outside the Whitmore estate and fled.

I stood at the gate. Passersby stopped to stare.

When the wind dried my tears, I snapped, “What are you looking at?”

Then I strode back into the house.

If I’d known pretending to cry would work so well, I wouldn’t have been butting heads with that demon all this time.

Back home, I heard a lot of noise from next door. A servant said, “Lord Ashford has moved in next door.”

No sooner had I gotten rid of one than another showed up?

I yelled into the courtyard, “Dad! It’s so noisy next door at this hour! I’m going to the Spring Breeze Pavilion to check it out. I’ll bring you some lamb soup.”

I pulled out my money pouch and weighed it. Enough to rent the whole place.

What lamb soup? I’d just buy some from a random street stall. I said I was going to the Spring Breeze Pavilion to “check it out.” I never said I’d bring lamb soup from there!

Did people go to the Spring Breeze Pavilion for lamb soup?

No! They went for the beautiful women!

I was gleefully imagining how I’d spend the night when my father’s booming voice rang out, “Nonsense! Get in here!”

I thought he wanted me to bring him something. But when I walked in, my father was chatting and laughing with Julian.

Great. No wonder they say silence is golden. It was my luck to get caught every time I said something bad.

My father didn’t seem embarrassed at all. “Weren’t you going to the Spring Breeze Pavilion? Lord Ashford happens to be going too. You two can have dinner there. Come back early.”

Seriously?

What I wanted to say: *[It’s getting late, Dad. Why don’t you keep Lord Ashford for dinner?]*

What came out: “No way! I’m not taking him! I want to have fun!”

My father was furious. “Nonsense! Stop being so willful and immature!”

I covered my mouth. Fine. I accepted my fate.

I waved at Julian. *[Follow me, my lord.]*

What came out: “Come on, short-liver.”

My father nearly had a stroke. I ran out of the house before he could come after me and hit me.

6

On the way, Julian didn’t seem angry. I wanted to apologize, but I was afraid that if I spoke, I’d just make him drop dead on the spot.

As we neared the Spring Breeze Pavilion, he suddenly said, “It seems Miss Whitmore really wants me dead.”

The moment I heard that, I knew it was bad. I clamped my hand over my mouth. But he pulled it away. “Speak freely.”

With my hand gone, the truth slipped out.

“If you die, I can inherit your fortune and live as a merry widow.”

Julian narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

I kept my mouth tightly shut and shook my head frantically. He pinched my chin, forcing my mouth open.

Me: “Truer than true.”

Julian had gotten my honest answer, but he’d lost his joy.

Well, duh! Who would be happy hearing that?

I was going crazy because of my own mouth. When we reached the Spring Breeze Pavilion, the manager greeted us with a big smile. “Oh, honored guests! The usual today?”

Then he noticed Julian beside me and quickly slapped himself. “Look at me, so busy I’ve forgotten who’s who. What would you two like?”

Julian’s expression was indifferent. “Lamb soup.”

Lamb soup at a place like this? Were you here to cause trouble?

Cold sweat broke out on the manager’s forehead. He looked at me helplessly.

I was exhausted. I gave him a look, trying to save the situation: *[The lamb soup here is amazing. It hasn’t sold out, has it?]*

Instead, everyone heard me say, loud and clear: “The lamb soup was a lie I told my dad. I was planning to rent out the Spring Breeze Pavilion.”

Don’t stop me. I’ll just go bash my head against a wall.

I let out a wail and lunged toward a nearby table.

I didn’t hit the table. A long, elegant hand caught my forehead.

“If she wants to rent the place, rent it for her.”

Then he picked me up, a smile playing on his lips. “I’d like to see how Miss Whitmore usually has fun.”

He smiled like a demon king.

My spine went rigid. Julian, on the other hand, was lounging lazily against his chair, watching as the handsome young men I usually hired filed in one by one.

When the last beauty had entered and closed the door, Julian turned to me. “Miss Whitmore certainly knows how to have a good time.”

I suppressed the urge to speak, frantically searched the room, found a handkerchief, and stuffed it into my mouth.

Then I sat back down and gave him a smiling nod.

There. Now no one could make me say a word.

“What are you doing, Miss Whitmore? If someone walked in, they might think I’ve done something to you.”

He leaned closer and closer. I gripped the armrest of my chair to keep from being pushed to the floor.

A sickly weakling like him, trying to manhandle me?

I could push him away with one hand. And if he tried to frame me, forget it!

With that thought, I pushed.

Nothing.

I pushed harder.

Still nothing.

Instead, it made him laugh. He caught my wrist with one hand and effortlessly flipped me around. I couldn’t move.

How was he so strong! Wasn’t he supposed to cough three times with every step?

I was shocked. I struggled like a fish out of water. Just then, the door was kicked open, and I heard a booming voice: “The General is here!”

God, just give me a chance to die.

Sure enough, the next day, the news in the Capital changed to: Lord Ashford Attempts to Force Himself on Miss Whitmore at the Spring Breeze Pavilion.

It completely overshadowed the story of General Warrington making Miss Whitmore cry.

7

I was depressed for days. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and didn’t say a word.

My brother was worried. “No way. Have you finally realized how much you eat? But even normal noble ladies don’t just stop eating! Look how thin you’ve gotten.”

He pulled out a greasy, glistening pork knuckle. When I frowned, he shoved it right up to my mouth.

I nearly threw up. I pushed his hand away. I knew I couldn’t go on like this.

“Brother, I need your help.”

I clenched my fist and pounded the table twice. He thought I’d been bullied and immediately got serious. “Just say the word, little sister. I’m not afraid of any noble in the Capital.”

Me: “Find me a ginseng root that can walk and talk! If I’m not mistaken, it should have a donkey hoof print on its belly.”

My brother fell silent.

He looked at my serious, earnest face and started to question his own sanity.

An hour later, he brought back a kindly old Chinese medicine doctor.

Me: “There really is a sentient ginseng root that can talk and run! It cursed me to only tell the truth!”

The old doctor calmly mixed some herbs. “There’s a ginseng root. And then?”

“I stepped on it with my donkey. It cursed me. I slapped it twice. And then it cursed me.”

The old doctor: “Mm-hmm. Go on.”

I was so angry I wanted to tear someone apart.

I knocked over his medicine and grabbed my brother, who was hiding in the corner watching.

“Are you my brother or not? Do you believe me?”

My brother looked flustered, like a child who’d done something wrong.

“Well, um, this—”

Seeing that he really didn’t believe me, I gritted my teeth and let go of him. “Forget it. Don’t tell anyone about this. I’m not crazy.”

With that, I stormed off.

I didn’t know what festival it was, but the streets were decorated with lanterns and banners, bustling with activity.

I leaned against a donkey and spotted a thief about to strike. I casually flicked a pebble at the back of his hand. He yelped, and the crowd surrounded him.

Someone said, “The General is nearby.”

I cursed my luck and was about to head home when I noticed a familiar figure lounging lazily by a donkey’s hooves, basking in the sun.

It was that ginseng root!

My heart raced. I lunged at it.

The ginseng didn’t expect an ambush. It screamed, “Who’s crushing me?!”

I grabbed it and snarled, “Lift your curse, you little monster!”

The ginseng spat at me again. “You again!”

I dodged its attack, furious. “Hurry up! You’ve ruined me!”

But the ginseng was cunning. It pointed behind me. “Look over there!”

I was afraid it was Marcus. I turned around instinctively, and it took the chance to escape, weaving through the crowd effortlessly.

I gave chase.

8

The ginseng was incredibly slippery. I pushed through the crowd, finally getting close, but it slipped into the clothes of the person in front of me.

White boots embroidered with gold thread. The ginseng poked its head out from under the hem and taunted me.

I stared for a long moment, then looked up.

Great. Julian.

I wanted to say a snake had crawled into his clothes to scare him. But remembering I could only tell the truth, I pointed helplessly at his lower half.

“There’s a sentient ginseng root that crawled into your clothes. Can I lift your hem and grab it?”

Julian was stunned. Yes, stunned.

He repeated my question. “A ginseng root? Crawled into my clothes?”

I ran my hand through my hair, frustrated. I knew no one would believe me. I was so mad I could die. The ginseng slipped away again.

But something brushed against my hand. I looked down. Julian was holding the ginseng root, pressing it into my palm.

I was overjoyed. I grabbed it tightly and ran back toward the Whitmore estate. “Thank you, Julian!”

As I rounded the corner, I slammed straight into someone. Or rather, he deliberately blocked me with his body.

Marcus’s voice was harsh. He held out his hand. “What’s that in your hand?”

I quickly hid it behind my back. “None of your business!”

“I saw Julian take something out of his… clothes and give it to you.” He couldn’t bring himself to say exactly where.

I wondered why he looked so awkward. It was just that the ginseng had hidden in a slightly awkward spot. Unless—

“You don’t think Julian gave me his underwear, do you?” I burst out laughing.

Marcus was annoyed by my laughter. He simply snatched it from my hand. When he saw it was a ginseng root, he was visibly speechless.

“What did Julian give you this for? Is he crazy?”

I pouted. “Is there anything else, General? I’m leaving. Give me back my ginseng.”

Marcus dodged my grab. “You’re not taking anything from him.” He turned to his attendant. “Send all the ginseng from the mansion to the Whitmore estate. And the betrothal gifts I’ve prepared. I’ll visit Prime Minister Whitmore tonight.”

I panicked. I tried to pry the ginseng from his hand, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Marcus, give me back my stuff!”

“Let’s go. Back to the Whitmore estate.”

I tried everything I could, talked until I was blue in the face, but I couldn’t loosen his grip.

I was like a dog with a bone, refusing to let go, being dragged all the way home.

Marcus had spent too long fighting barbarians. He’d picked up their ways. Without a word, he sent the betrothal gifts. My father didn’t dare refuse.

I was depressed. I sat on the front steps, questioning my life.

He knew the principle of capturing the leader first.

The sky grew dark. The Capital’s streets came alive again.

Music and song filled the air. Red lanterns cast their glow on the cool, flagstone streets, creating a sense of loneliness.

I was dejected when a shadow fell over me.

A butterfly-shaped sugar figurine appeared before my eyes. The red lanterns outside the Whitmore estate were too bright, dyeing the sugar figurine red.

The figurine moved, accompanied by a funny voice.

“Let me see. Which young lady is sitting here all alone, so sad?”

I burst out laughing and snatched the figurine. “Julian!”

Julian’s lips curved into a smile. I stood up, stamping my cold feet, my eyes crinkling into crescents. “Did you make this yourself, my lord? If you didn’t, I won’t eat it!”

Julian pretended to look disappointed. “Oh dear. That’s a problem. My mother made it. She asked me to bring it to her future daughter-in-law to try. If you don’t eat it, she’ll be heartbroken.”

I reluctantly said, *[Fine. I’ll try a little, just for her.]*

“Haha! I can’t wait to eat it! I’m going to eat it all!”

My blunt honesty was mortifying. When Julian saw me cover my mouth again, looking miserable, he let out a sound that could only be described as affectionate.

He tapped my forehead with his ring finger. “Oh, you.”

I tasted the sugar figurine. It was sweet all the way to my heart.

The taste was the same, but the lifelike butterfly was so beautiful it was a joy to behold.

Since Julian had also sent betrothal gifts to the estate in time, and my father couldn’t offend either of them, he pretended to be sick and stayed home. The matter was put on hold.

9

Early one morning, snow began to fall.

I wore a red padded dress, my hair in two buns, and was sent to visit my aunt.

My aunt had just given birth and was still weak. A monk had said that having a blessed person keep her company would help her recover faster.

The title of “blessed person” fell on me because I’d been healthy since childhood and had never been sick.

I packed some extra food, climbed into the carriage, and waved goodbye to my mother.

Mother: “Stay at your aunt’s for a few days. Don’t worry about me. Your aunt loves you the most. Stay a long time!”

Brother: “Don’t forget to bring me some interesting trinkets from Liangzhou!”

I made a face and got into the carriage.

Liangzhou wasn’t a bustling place. The journey there passed through many desolate areas. It was boring.

I was listless when I heard Lily, my maid, call out from outside the carriage, “General.”

I lifted the curtain. Marcus was riding a chestnut horse. He was very handsome, with a spirited, youthful look. Behind him was a troop of armored soldiers.

I gasped. I was just a useless little thing. Did I really warrant such a grand escort?

“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you. Where’s my ginseng?”

Marcus looked annoyed. “Is that thing he gave you really that important?”

“That’s my ginseng! That ginseng root became sentient and ran into his clothes!” I yelled, even though I knew how ridiculous it sounded. I didn’t care. Everything I said was true.

Marcus signaled to someone behind him. A soldier stepped forward and handed me the ginseng root.

I hadn’t expected it to be so easy. Satisfied, I retreated back into the carriage.

Outside, Marcus sounded a little regretful. “So you’re just ignoring me now?”

My only response was a humph.

The ginseng root must have been frozen. I placed it by the heater. After a while, it came to and moved.

“You again?” the ginseng shrieked and tried to escape in a blur.

I screamed too. Why did this thing only run when I was holding it?

Exclamations came from outside the carriage.

“General! That ginseng root is riding away on a horse!”

10

I yanked open the carriage curtain and gave Marcus a pitiful pleading look.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He spurred his horse and gave chase.

In no time, the ginseng root, now wrapped in red string, was tossed into my hands.

I took it joyfully. This time, I didn’t lower the curtain. “General, say whatever you want to say. I’m listening.”

Marcus snorted.

I gave the ginseng a hard smack and played my trump card. “Are you messing with me? If you don’t lift the curse, I’ll bite you!”

I pretended to bite it. It was sure I wouldn’t. “Go ahead! You wouldn’t dare, you little girl!”

What did I have to lose? Provoked, I bit it.

The ginseng’s scream was almost deafening. It lay on the ground in a dramatic pose, sobbing, like it had been violated.

“You shameless thing!”

I heard Marcus laugh outside the carriage.

I turned to look. He had a blank expression again.

I pointed at him. “You were laughing.”

Now that I’d caught him, he stopped pretending and laughed openly.

My damn pride flared up again. But since Marcus had helped me, I couldn’t get angry. I could only glare at the ginseng.

The ginseng wiped its tears. “Now try to lie.”

I turned my gaze to Marcus.

“Marcus, you’re so handsome!”

Marcus froze. Then he heard me shout excitedly, “I’m cured! I can lie now!!!”

The little flutter in his heart was instantly replaced by anger. “Stop the carriage!”

My heart sank. “Don’t you dare! Don’t stop!”

I forgot how skilled he was. He leaped onto my carriage. I screamed and tried to hold the curtain shut to keep him out.

Marcus had always been strong. He pushed the curtain aside. I cowered in the corner, trembling.

I was genuinely scared. Marcus had never been one to follow the rules.

And he’d said he’d just take me. Terrifying. I tried to fake cry again.

Before I could squeeze out a tear, he reached out, hoisted me over his shoulder, and jumped off the carriage.

I was so scared my face went pale. He carried me as easily as a side of pork. When I came to my senses and started struggling, he gave my bottom a hard smack.

I gritted my teeth. “Damn you.”

The Whitmore servants stared, surrounded by Marcus’s men.

As Marcus carried me further and further into a secluded area, I was almost scared to death. Was he going to do something crazy?

Knowing him, it was entirely possible!

This time, I was genuinely crying. He set me down, and I immediately bolted, but he caught me.

His voice was a little helpless. “Look at this.”

Then, gloomily, “Am I really that scary?”

Duh. If he wasn’t scary, who was?

I looked up. In front of me was a sea of flowers.

A sea of fiery red flowers.

In this freezing weather, the flowers were blooming more vibrantly than ever.

I was speechless with shock. He waved his hand in front of my eyes.

“Stunned? Still scared?”

I sniffled and wiped my tears. “If you wanted to show me flowers, you could have just said so. You scared me to death.”

He reached out and ruffled my hair, his voice sounding hurt.

“Fine. I won’t do it again.”

11

After a day’s journey, we reached Liangzhou. I went to visit my aunt. Marcus didn’t come in. He waited outside.

My aunt held my hand and said earnestly, “Claire, never betray someone who truly cares for you.”

I knew she was talking about Marcus. I felt a little awkward. “I know, Aunt.”

The three months flew by. The old Emperor summoned me to the palace.

“I’m afraid you’re feeling awkward. Have you decided? Which one?”

I already had my answer.

“I choose—”

[Marcus’s Story]

It had been a month since the lady married the General.

No one expected that the delicate-looking lady would have the General completely wrapped around her finger.

After a little initial friction, the two were practically inseparable.

The Emperor had given the General a month off. On the second day of their marriage, the lady made a fuss about going to the palace to ask the Emperor to annul the marriage.

The General refused. He carried her back to their room.

One day, I was doing the lady’s hair. She looked melancholy and muttered to herself, “So that’s what my brother meant.”

I didn’t know what she meant, but I could vaguely see the faint marks on her neck, and I guessed.

The old lady (the General’s mother) was very fond of the lady. They had a lot in common.

When they watched plays, the lady loved to comment. She always made the old lady laugh until she was bent over.

The old lady’s affection for the lady far exceeded her affection for the General.

The lady kept a dog. She never gave it a name. She just called it “Dog!”

And the dog would come running, wagging its tail, looking adorable.

The lady could be a bit slow sometimes, but she learned accounting very quickly. Within three days, she had taken over all the household affairs and managed them efficiently.

Whenever a servant reported the household’s income and expenses, the lady would lean back in her chair, cross her legs, and click away at her abacus like a little shopkeeper.

Ever since the General’s mansion had gained a mistress, there was noticeably more laughter