The Widow Is Poisonous

Her husband died for his mistress, and Jiang Yi, widowed as a result, made herself a vow. For the rest of her life, she would live only for her career and never believe in love again. But as she worked hard and struggled through life, one romantic interest after another appeared by chance. His concerts sold out instantly. A free-spirited superstar who excelled in music, film, and television, he only ever looked at her with deep affection when he said her name: “I’ve written so many songs, and I only want to sing them for you.” Heir to a century-old, prestigious family, he was usually aloof and disciplined, a rare beauty who kept women at arm’s length. Yet at a banquet, his eyes reddened as he grabbed her wrist and cornered her: “Watching you marry someone else is the only nightmare I’ve ever had.” The young master of a top-tier wealthy family was handsome and innocent, but turned dark after his love went unreturned. With an inscrutable smile, he showed her the two-meter-tall golden birdcage he’d had built at great expense: “You don’t have to love me, but I have to have you. Between my villa and this cage, you’ll have to live in one of them.” A bystander’s opinion: A woman like Jiang Yi is a poisonous poppy. Once you’ve had a taste, it’s hard to give her up. Jiang Yi’s own opinion of herself: An utterly ordinary little widow. I play with men, not feelings.