On our wedding night, I handed my new husband, the Crown Prince, a cup of poisoned wine.
He took it with a smile and drank it all. Then he whispered in my ear, his voice barely audible: “Ajiu, what are you playing at this time?”
I clenched my sleeve in a sudden grip.
This was the tenth world in which I had faced off against that mad Demon Venerable.
I was a revenge-seeking spy burdened with a blood feud; he was an ambitious Crown Prince vying for the throne.
We each played our assigned roles, both knowing full well that the other was our only true opponent.
By day, he stood against the entire imperial family for me in court, all tender devotion: “Who dares lay a hand on my Crown Princess?”
By night, he pinned me against the wall, his eyes dark and his tone mocking. “Your acting keeps getting better. I almost believed you. So tell me, who’s the target this time? I’ll help you kill them.”
In this game, we weren’t betting on the empire. We were betting on who could tear off the other’s mask first.
