After I Married the Chancellor, the Holy Monk Who Took My Virtue Eight Years Ago Went Mad with Regret

The night the Buddhist monk coaxed me into consummating our marriage, he was tender and loving, lavishing me with affection. But on the day I nearly died giving birth to his child, he callously threw me down in front of my father for everyone to see. “Prefect Yue, didn’t you say a prostitute’s word couldn’t be trusted? Now that your daughter has been defiled by me, how is she any different from a woman in a brothel?” “Will you seek justice for her? Will you believe what she says?” My father was so enraged that he fell ill on the spot and collapsed unconscious. Eight years later, I saw the monk again. He was a royal abbot, revered by all, and the sworn younger brother of the current chancellor. I was a lowly woman from a brothel, available to any man. But when he truly saw me selling smiles, he went almost mad. He was willing to anger the powerful, even to take off his robes, so he could make me his lawful wife. Unfortunately, I was no longer the innocent, kind-hearted woman I had been eight years ago.