On Our Wedding Night, the Tyrant Wanted Me to Die in Place of His Beloved

On my wedding night, Prince Jing grabbed me by the throat and forced me in front of a portrait of his dead wife. He made me learn to smile like her, cry like her, even breathe at exactly the same pace. "Become her within three days," he said, blood dripping from the tip of his knife. "Otherwise, the dry well in Wutong Court will be your coffin." Everyone in the capital knew that Zhang Wanting, Shen Mo's great love, was dead, and that I was his fifth substitute. What they didn't know was that I was born with a curse: whoever I touched, I could see their most shameful memories. The moment I touched Shen Mo, I saw everything: He had once knelt in the snow to beg for medicine for Zhang Wanting. He had also cut her throat with his own hands. And the late emperor had personally written my birth details into an imperial decree: If this woman lives, the imperial throne will fall. Later, dressed in white, I stood by the well and smiled at him. "Your Highness, did you really kill her back then because you loved her so deeply..." "Or was it because she had discovered your secret?" For the first time, the knife in his hand trembled.