On the night of my wedding to Xiao Yi, Marquis of Jing'an, I heard him comforting the weeping Zhao Yiyi outside the window: “She's nothing but a prop.”
> Five years later, I returned with the Jiangnan trade routes under my belt, just as he was lining the streets with red silk to marry his second wife.
> “My lord, the woman you once knew is dead.” Smiling, I handed him the half of our marriage contract that had survived the fire.
> That night, he kicked open my courtyard gate, only to find the dagger hidden in my sleeve pressed against his throat.
> “Mother!” a sweet little voice suddenly called. “Why is that uncle kneeling on the ground and crying?”
Absolutely good writing. The author's writing skills are very strong.