A Fine Marriage: I Grant You a Lifetime of Pure Song

When Shen Qingyin transmigrated here, all she wanted was to live quietly as a concubine-born daughter, then find a chance to escape once she came of age.

But then she met Ye Xian.

The heir of the Marquis of Changxing, he was the capital’s most notorious sickly young master, as sharp-tempered as a cat ready to scratch at any moment.

The imperial physicians said he wouldn’t live past twenty-five. His own father called him useless, and not a single noblewoman dared marry him.

Shen Qingyin hadn’t wanted to get involved with him either.

But she had the hands of a modern Chinese medicine doctor and a heart that felt other people’s pain down to the bone.

That day, his heart condition flared up in the carriage. He clutched her sleeve tightly, his voice hoarse and faint.

“Don’t go.”

So she couldn’t leave.

Later, someone asked her, “What do you see in him?”

She thought about it, but didn’t answer.

She simply picked up a silver needle, held it over the candle flame, then carefully inserted it into one of his acupuncture points.

Leaning against the couch, Ye Xian watched her and suddenly smiled.

“Shen Qingyin, you can’t escape.”

“I’m going to cling to you for the rest of my life.”