He married her, slept with her, and used her as a shield, all because she looked like someone else.
Throughout their three-year marriage, she made herself small, enduring his cold stares and callousness night after night.
When she became pregnant, he told her, “Get rid of it.” When she bled, he held another woman and said, “Just bear with it.”
Even as she died, he never once looked her in the eye.
Only on the night she died in the dungeon did she learn that the “white moonlight” he’d protected with his life was none other than herself, in disguise.
When she opened her eyes again, she was the capital’s foremost poison physician, cold as frost and no longer capable of love.
But he went mad: calling her name in his dreams every night and scouring the world for even the slightest chance she might take him back.
She smiled faintly. “Xie Heng, the ‘her’ you wanted went to hell with you.”
“But I don’t love you anymore.”
