The Ghost Merchant’s Slave Wife

The sky was a brilliant blue that morning, without a cloud in sight.

In ten-centimeter stilettos and a fitted rose-red miniskirt, I stepped out of the house with the resolve of someone going to her death.

Yesterday, Mom had sneaked into my room and gone on and on about how some family’s son had returned from overseas. He was so handsome, so educated, so refined…

“Mom, you should get remarried. I don’t mind.” I grabbed a handful of my messy hair, my eyes still fixed on the computer.

Come on, I’d only graduated from X-X Law University last year. This was the perfect time to enjoy the freedom of being single, but Mom was acting as if I were some over-the-hill…