Chapter 1: The Substitute Bride    

Standing in front of the mirror in an ill-fitting wedding gown, Tang Qiu studied her reflection and felt the corner of her lips twist into a wry smile.

“Sign this contract.”

Tang Qiu caught the document that Feng Guo’an tossed at her. Her eyes traveled to the bottom of the page, where her husband-to-be’s signature stared back at her: Jiang Shaocheng. The handwriting was neat, as though in fine print, but the pen had been gripped with enough force for the ink to have bled through the other side of the paper.

“You’ll be well taken care of as his wife. But… ” warned Feng Guo’an, “… you’d better behave.” An edge crept into his voice, like the hints of a dark cloud looming over the horizon. “Think about what will happen to your grandmother if you ruin everything.”

It should have been Feng Lu in her place, Tang Qiu thought. But Feng Lu hadn’t wanted to marry a man on the verge of death–why would she? She had fled just a few hours before her wedding. But to tell the groom’s family the truth would be nothing short of insulting, even humiliating, which was why Feng Guo’an had–rather callously–threatened Tang Qiu with her grandmother’s life to coerce her into taking Feng Lu’s place.

And so, to protect her grandmother, Tang Qiu found herself dressed in a wedding gown that had belonged to another woman; the bride-to-be of the sickly eldest son of the Jiang family.

Feng Guo’an might insist that it was a privilege to be in her shoes, but Tang Qiu knew better. If she were truly all that lucky, why would Feng Lu have run away in the first place?

“You’re right,” Tang Qiu replied, her voice smooth and clear. “Thank you for your reminder. If not, the small matter of my becoming the young mistress of the Jiang family would have slipped my mind completely. Although… correct me if I’m wrong, but my new status would make it incredibly easy to punish those who try to hurt me, wouldn’t it?”

Feng Guo’an’s expression changed instantly.

Tang Qiu raised her head to look him in the eye, all demure and innocent. “So don’t hurt my grandmother. She’s the only family I have left, after all. If something happened to her, I can’t imagine what I’d be capable of.”

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“You…” Feng Guo’an seethed. He opened his mouth, as if to hurl more verbal abuse at her. But at that moment, the staff came to inform them that it was time for the bride to take her place. Clamping down on his fury, Feng Guo’an smoothed his expression over and brusquely escorted her into full view of the guests.

Slowly, Tang Qiu made her way to the center. The veil hid her face from the sea of guests around her, but it failed to block their whispers and snickers.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

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“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his luck and prolong his life.”

“The Fengs? Their brazen hussy of a daughter? I heard she was throwing herself at a man she met at a party not long ago. Young Master Jiang must be begging to be cuckolded.”

“Speaking of which, the bride’s a little on the skinny side, isn’t she? She can barely hold up that gown of hers, if you catch my meaning.”

With each step, Tang Qiu ignored the murmurs of the throng, her gaze fixed on the man in the wheelchair in front of her. A mask covered the bottom half of his face, but his eyebrows were set in two gentle lines. Sporadically, he would let out a cough or two, his fists clenching in a valiant attempt to control himself and avoid disrupting the wedding, but he only succeeded in making himself cough harder.

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It went on for so long that Tang Qiu couldn’t help but wonder if he would even survive the wedding. I would enter a bride and leave a widow, she thought humorlessly.

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Feng Guo’an must have been afraid that the wretched, pitiful noises tearing from her husband-to-be’s chest were the result of some kind of infectious disease; after placing Tang Qiu’s hand into Jiang Shaocheng’s, he wasted no time in covering his nose and hurrying off.

The pastor began reciting the ceremonial vows. He asked Tang Qiu, “Do you agree to take this man as your husband, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day till your last day?”

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Did she really have a choice, when she had already signed the marriage contract? She rolled her eyes behind the veil. “I do.”

The pastor repeated the question to the groom, who responded with several violent coughs before mustering the strength to say, “I do.”

“Then I pronounce you both husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

No sooner than he had uttered the words did a look of mortification spread across the pastor’s face. If simply swearing his vows had been such an impossible feat, surely this wheelchair-ridden man wasn’t capable of sharing a kiss with his bride. He was about to rescind what he had said when Tang Qiu bent down and lifted her veil over her husband’s head, shielding them both from view.

It was said that two became one beneath a wedding veil. Tang Qiu had been prepared for this moment ever since she donned her gown. She might have been forced into this position by Feng Guo’an to ward off the Jiang family’s outrage, but she needed the power of the Jiang family name to keep her grandmother safe. The longer her husband lived, the better.

Tang Qiu pulled down his mask, revealing the lower half of his face, which was decorated in a pattern of hideous scars. The sight was repulsive–horrifying, even–but Tang Qiu pretended not to notice. “The ceremony is completed. The contract has been signed,” she said, keeping her face neutral. “We are husband and wife now. What you cannot do alone, I can help you with.”

Without the mask to conceal his visage, she could see Jiang Shaocheng’s features creasing in a slight frown, presumably at not being given the chance to speak. But then he took in her words, and she caught the hints of a glimmer in his eye.

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