The Marquis dotes on his concubine and neglects his wife, leaving her the most invisible shadow of a wife in the marquis’s household.
Her monthly allowance was halved, her charcoal ration cut, and when the window paper tore, she could only patch it with her own white silk dowry. The “kindness” he sent her was nothing but an attempt to keep her obediently serving as a sacrifice of her own bloodline.
Everyone thought she meekly accepted her lot and deserved to be trampled into the mud.
Only one person saw her differently.
The phoenix shadow guard who always lingered in the darkness. Whenever she curled up from the cold, a packet of warm osmanthus cakes or half a basket of charcoal, poor-burning but warm enough, would appear on her windowsill.
He never told her why.
Not until the Marquis publicly offered her as a sacrifice at the Myriad Spirits Altar, just as her bloodline was about to be drained. He descended from the sky, phoenix fire consuming the formation and scarlet feathers filling the heavens, and carried her down from the altar in front of the entire capital.
Only later did he tell her, “I’ve waited a long time for this day. I’ve been waiting ever since the first year you married into the marquis’s household.”
Worth watching again
You can watch it to pass the time