For five years, I was the mistress of the marquis's household. I managed its affairs, kept the family running smoothly, safeguarded his home, and knelt before the Buddha to pray for his safety. I gave everything, only to be publicly humiliated and falsely accused.
My half sister pretended to suffer a miscarriage, and everyone blamed me.
My husband, Xie Jingyuan, didn't ask what was true or look into what had happened. To protect his delicate white lotus, he forced me to kneel and apologize in front of everyone, crushing five years of devotion and my pride with his own hands.
That day, the bluestone beneath my knees was bitterly cold. I knelt without bending my back, but my heart died completely.
He burned my evidence and protected her lies, then blamed me for being aggressive and too domineering.
Fine.
Since my devotion was discarded and my sincerity trampled, I would cut these ties, file for divorce, leave with nothing, and never look back.
The former mistress of the marquis's household shed all her glory and built herself up from nothing with her peerless embroidery. She opened Qingyan Atelier, stunned the capital, and rose to the pinnacle of imperial patronage.
He regretted everything, kneeling in the rain and trying every way to please me, offering all the tenderness that had come too late as he tried to win back the woman he had lost.
But Shen Qingyan's heart had died on that night when her pride was crushed.
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