I am the most arrogant noble girl in the capital, but I am married to a sickly young man known throughout the city.
On the night of our wedding, he coughed up blood and drew my eyebrows: "Madam, I won't survive this winter."
I smiled and fed him the medicine: "That's just right. When you die, I will inherit your vast wealth."
Until late one night, I saw him walking out of the dungeon, his sleeves stained with blood, but he asked me gently whose head I wanted.
It turns out that his illness was just an act, and his cruelty and gloominess were the real thing.
And what he loves most is whispering in my ear: "The whole world knows that I love you, so just be my wife, okay?"
