Chapter 5

I was shoved into the basement.

The room was pitch black. I sat against the wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around my legs.

At first, I was actually relieved by this punishment. I even leaned against the wall and dozed off for a while.

Until, half asleep and half awake, it seemed like countless hands were reaching out through the darkness.

They pulled at my clothes, pinched my chin, laughing as they said:

"She's so pale. Such delicate skin. How could Mr. Kingsley bear to send her to a place like this?"

"What's she shouting? For her husband to come save her? What a pipe dream."

The man's breathing was heavy as he leaned close to my ear, laughing.

"Face reality. Your husband sent you here to teach you obedience. Don't you think he knows what you're going through here? He just doesn't care at all!"

I buried my face in my knees.

That wasn't true. Tristan did care. He just... he just wanted me to become better.

But had I become better?

No. Andy said I was a bad woman, that I wanted to steal his daddy from his mommy.

I hadn't won the favor of my husband's child. I hadn't become a proper, sensible Mrs. Kingsley.

I immediately knelt up, positioning my knees shoulder-width apart, assuming the repentance posture from the academy.

Then I raised my right hand and slapped myself across the face. Hard.

Once, then again, slapping until my mouth bled, my cheek swelled, and my palm went numb.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault. I didn't protect the child properly."

"I upset Andy. I shouldn't have put my husband in a difficult position."

For three days, whenever I woke up, I'd kneel and slap myself.

Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth, dripping onto my knees. It was warm.

When the basement door finally opened, I instinctively straightened my kneeling posture and lowered my eyes.

Tristan saw the blood covering my face, his pupils contracting sharply.

He stepped forward. "You..."

Before he could finish, a servant carrying a basin of hot oil hurried past.

She slipped, and that bucket of scalding oil poured straight toward Nora.

Without time to think, I threw myself over Nora almost desperately, shielding her tightly beneath me.

The hot oil splashed all over me. It hurt terribly.

But I couldn't care about the pain. I anxiously searched for Tristan's eyes, hoping to see satisfaction in them.

But there was none.

He looked at me, his whole body trembling, his eyes reddening.

I lowered my eyes in disappointment. Hadn't I done well enough?

But I didn't have time to think anymore, didn't have time to apologize to him and Nora. I passed out.

Before losing consciousness, the last thing I heard was Tristan calling my name with a trembling voice.

"Susie, Susie..."

When I woke up again, Tristan was asleep leaning against the hospital chair, his brow furrowed, still holding my hand.

His features were rarely this gentle—just like when he was pursuing me all those years ago.

I was eighteen that year, still frying rice at the night market. To pursue me, he came every day to help me pack up.

The day we got together, there was a drizzling rain. When we pushed the cart to the alley entrance, the rain intensified. We hid under the eaves, shoulders touching.

"Susie." He suddenly called my name, his eyes shining. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

I was stunned. "Have you eaten so much fried rice you've gone stupid?"

He laughed, his eyes crinkling, then lowered his head and kissed me.

The sound of the rain was loud, his lips were soft, and he kissed me until I forgot to breathe.

The smell of cooking oil mixed with rain-soaked earth became the entire fragrance of my eighteenth summer.

Later, to marry me, his father punished him by making him kneel in the ancestral hall and take a beating. His back was lashed until the skin split open.

I went to see him. He was lying on the bed, his shirt stuck to his wounds. When it was pulled off, it brought blood with it.

I cried until I couldn't breathe. He comforted me instead. "Don't cry. It doesn't hurt."

"You're lying."

"It really doesn't hurt."

He gripped my hand, his fingers burning hot—he had a fever.

"My father asked if I'd change my mind. I said no. He asked if I loved you. I said yes."

He looked at me, his eyes red. "Susie, you're the only person I've ever loved in this lifetime."

I believed him. Back then, I really believed him.

The curtains were blown by the wind. I moved my fingers, wanting to close the window.

As soon as I moved, he woke up.

He looked at me, opened his mouth as if to say something, but finally only said, "Let's go home."

Go home. Was the Kingsley residence home? I didn't know.

But I nodded and said, "Okay."

Perhaps as a reward for saving Nora, Tristan treated me much better over the next few days.

He had Nora thank me. When she stood before me and bowed, the smile on her face was stiff.

I was flustered and quickly told her there was no need to thank me.

Tristan watched all of this from the side, his brow relaxing somewhat.

That night, he opened my bedroom door.