3. Chapter 3: Torment (3)
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Why?
The First Madam stepped forward and wiped the blood and tears from Wen Wan’s face. Her eyes held the same maternal love as always, yet the words that left her mouth were merciless as knives.
“You little wretch, did you really think you were my daughter? Hahaha! You are nothing but the bastard born from the belly of that lowly foot-washing maid who served the dead old hag. I let you enjoy the status of the Wen family’s second legitimate daughter all these years for two reasons: first, to take calamity and hardship in place of my Qingyan and Qingcheng; and second, simply to put on a show for that dead old woman!”
“Ahhhhh… ah…”
Wen Wan watched the First Madam’s chest rise and fall, yet she could not force a single word from her throat.
No! This could not be true.
She could still vaguely remember how, when she was little and burning with fever, “Mother” had stayed beside her bed throughout the night.
When Wen Wan had refused to marry the brutal and heartless Crown Prince, “Mother” had taken her hand and knelt with her outside Father’s study.
Tears blurred Wen Wan’s eyes. At that moment, the pain she felt was even more unbearable than the pain of losing her child.
The First Madam gave a cold laugh and stroked her own brows and eyes.
“Pretending to be a loving mother to a little wretch like you all these years made me sick. Fortunately, the harvest was worthwhile. If not for a little wretch like you, wouldn’t that crippled Crown Prince have wronged my Qingyan and Qingcheng?”
A delirious, mocking laugh escaped Wen Wan’s lips.
So this was how it had been!
The mother was not her mother. The love had never been love.
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Her entire life had been an unparalleled joke.
“A-Da, make sure you take good care of this daughter of a lowly maid!” the First Madam said coldly, her ruthless words ringing in Wen Wan’s ears.
A-Da’s coarse, labored breathing. Wen Qingyan’s amused laughter. Wen Wenhao’s lecherous gaze. The First Madam’s icy, emotionless face.
Wen Wan’s slender fingers dug fiercely into her palms. She would carve these people into her memory forever.
Then Wen Wenhao suddenly demanded, “Speak! Where is the Map of the Nine Provinces?”
A cold smile tugged at the corners of Wen Wan’s lips, even as her nails bit deeply into her flesh. The Map of the Nine Provinces… Was that all the value she had left to the noble Prince Chen?
Zongzheng Moyin! The Wen family!
If she were granted another life, she would repay them a hundredfold, a thousandfold!
Wen Qingyan bit her lip. “A-Da, use more force. Look at her—she still refuses to speak.”
Wen Wan clenched her red lips tightly, her eyes filled with absolute resolve.
Wen Qingyan stamped her foot anxiously. “Eldest Brother, Mother, what are we going to do if she refuses to talk? If Prince Chen cannot obtain the map, will he think our Wen family is useless?”
At that moment, a dark figure drifted inside. The viciousness in Wen Wenhao’s eyes instantly vanished, replaced by reverence.
“Shadow Envoy, what orders has His Highness Prince Chen given?”
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The Shadow Envoy appeared not to notice the obscene scene before him. In a hoarse and strained voice, he said, “His Highness commands that every inch of this woman’s skin be removed. Skin her alive.”
Only by flaying the woman alive could the Map of the Nine Provinces remain completely undamaged.
A scream of unimaginable agony rang throughout the entire imperial city of Jin.
Meanwhile, within Prince Chen’s residence, a jade-faced man dressed in garments white as snow gazed at the delicate orchids blooming in the courtyard. His brows suddenly relaxed, as though time had returned to that early summer of long ago.
After witnessing a crowd strangle his mother beneath the blazing sun, he had felt as cold as winter. In the Cold Palace, he had cowered behind a rockery, breathing so quietly and humbly that he scarcely seemed to exist.
Then a tiny girl in white, as beautiful as a celestial maiden descending from the heavens, had smiled at him with such gentle warmth that she had soothed his heart and filled his very being.
“Are you hungry? You can have my fruit.”
In an instant, his heart was illuminated.
From that day onward, Zongzheng Moyin’s heart held a lifetime of Wen Wan.
The orchids were delicate and charming, their fragrance quietly permeating the air. As the scent slowly blurred his vision, he murmured, “A… Wan…”
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