I caught a glimpse of a tall man, but before I could see his face the candle went out from the gust. A strange, intoxicating scent filled the air, and the man’s strong body pressed down on me. I know how to fight—quick and nimble—but he was stronger. I was pinned.
After a few struggles I ran out of strength. He held me down on the bed, my hands forced above my head, and he kissed me.
Hot breath washed over me. His body was too warm, too forceful.
Maybe someone had drugged me.
I’d never felt such a gulf between a man and a woman before. In that moment it felt like slow, unbearable torture under me.
Thunder cracked outside; the room grew hotter. I couldn’t break free. He rose and fell on me all night.
When morning came I hurt from head to toe, nearly unable to walk. Even now, a sting lingered.
A thief broke into Wallace Manor—and into my room?
My courtyard is at the very back.
Thinking it over, I decided it must be someone I knew.
And I already had a suspect.
Ethan Wallace.
You can’t blame me for suspecting him.
I smelled a familiar scent—the same fragrance Ethan always wore.
He’d even come to argue with me again that day.
"Claire Bennett!"
A hoarse voice shouted.
The door was kicked open. Ethan stormed in, sweeping his arm; cups on the table crashed and shattered. "Our Wallace family took you in—how generous! And yet you run to my grandfather, use that favor to blackmail me into marrying you?"
What the hell… I stared at him carefully.
There were no suspicious marks on my neck.
On my body?
I couldn’t see.
When I didn’t answer, he moved on instinct. I grabbed his sleeve in defiance.
He just lifted my sleeve; I tugged his collar back.
If I ever find out it was you, you monster—I’d gut you.
But there were no marks on him except a little redness where I’d grabbed. Nothing like the blue bruises mottled along my wrist.
It wasn’t him.
Ethan recoiled, utterly stunned that I’d dared yank his collar. He flailed, then stepped back several paces.
"You shameless—how could you… how could you—"
He stopped, then flushed red.
"I’m the one who’s been defiled!"
That should’ve been my line.
I looked at him coldly. "Have you never been with a woman?"
Ethan’s face flashed black, then red—black, red, black. "Claire, you’re shameless. You deserve to be beaten!"
He pointed at the bluish bruises on my wrist and stormed out.
Me: Do you have the wrong idea about who got hit?
I was clearly—bitten by a dog.
"Claire Bennett, don’t you dare hope for me. I swear I will never—ever—be yours! I’ll make you pay!"
Ethan turned back to hurl that threat and didn’t forget to sweep my room for jewelry before he left.
I planted my hands on my hips, furious. If I weren’t worried about others seeing the marks on me, I’d have rushed him and slugged him.
Sigh.
Empty threats only.
I couldn’t hit him. Grandmother Wallace already dislikes me; beating her precious grandson would be idiotic.
Besides, Grandfather Wallace has really been good to me. His health is poor now—he carried illnesses from youth, and the doctor says he doesn’t have many years left.
I’ll stay to walk Grandfather through his last days, then leave the Wallaces.
Still—if it wasn’t Ethan, then someone really did break in?
My chest tightened.
I’m ruined. I can’t live like this. Time to darken my heart.
I told myself it was just a dog bite.
If I find that dog, I’ll skin it, strip it, and then soothe the wound with ointment.
Talk is cheap, but seeing the spreading marks on my skin brought tears to my eyes.
Could I still be tempted by Uncle Julian after this?
Pah. I actually like Uncle Julian for himself.
Julian Hale—Uncle Julian—Grandmother Wallace’s late-in-life son, spoiled from childhood. But he’s frail, secluded, not studious, not martial, rarely seen. He should’ve been the most debauched playboy in the capital; instead he’s a sickly invalid. He’s the male lead—destined for the heroine to save him and walk into a bright future together.
I’m the supporting girl—doomed to unrequited love, a bleak future.
My name is Claire Bennett. The original Claire’s parents died early, and her maternal grandmother raised her until, at seventeen, illness took the grandmother. Before dying she gave Claire a jade locket and told her to go to Wallace Manor and ask old Mr. Wallace for favor—to be taken in.
Supporting character or not, when tragedy hits you don’t get the hero’s second chance. A simple cough and you’re gone.
That was when I transmigrated into this body.
Following my grandmother’s dying wish, I took the locket to Wallace Manor.
Long ago, the old master had been ambushed during official business; the original Claire’s grandmother saved his life.
A classic beauty-saves-hero moment. The original novel never spelled it out, but I suspect sparks flew between them behind the scenes. Otherwise, why would Grandmother Wallace treat me with such contempt and demand a blood test to prove I wasn’t cuckolding her? She was relieved—no scandal, no ruined family honor.
So I became Claire Bennett of the Wallaces.
I wrapped my neck tight and planned to go out.
From years of reading novels, I knew the rules.
Supporting girls don’t have protagonist luck.
If you’re… compromised, you will almost certainly be believed culpable.
Going out means running into people.
If exposed, the chance of being publicly shamed is ninety-nine point nine percent.
You might not die, but a thousand scornful voices will drag you through the mud.
I shivered and spent an hour slipping out the back door as carefully as I could.
I pulled a hood over my face, changed clothes, and found a small, out-of-the-way apothecary far from Wallace Manor. "Mr. Fletcher, I need a pregnancy deterrent."
Maybe I looked suspiciously furtive—Mr. Fletcher eyed me a few times before handing over the medicine.
"Twelve coins."
Cash exchanged for the pouch of herbs. I turned on my heel, heart pounding, and as I stepped out the rain started to fall.
Passing the Moonlit House, I saw a familiar figure slip around the back entrance.
Ethan.
If there’s one thing this Wallace heir knows how to do, it’s visit brothels. Even after being caught, disciplined by both the master and grandfather, and forced to memorize family rules a thousand times, he couldn’t break the habit.
Saying he’s never been with a woman? Give me a break.
I wasn’t particularly interested in his business—unless it got entertaining.
So I followed at a distance and hid nearby.
The back door opened. Ethan stepped inside and was promptly thrown back out, drenched and humiliated.
Shouldn’t someone finish him off?
I had to stifle a laugh so hard my shoulders shook.
"Ha Chu, come out and see me—just once. I need to speak to you."
As if to underscore Ethan’s misery, a bolt of lightning split the sky and the rain pelted down. He looked like a drowned rat, utterly unbothered.
"Ha Chu, if you don’t come out today, I won’t leave."
Oh—he fancied someone upstairs, and she didn’t return his interest.
With nothing else to see, I trudged back to Wallace Manor in the wet. I’d planned to use the excuse of getting a chill from the rain to brew medicine in the kitchen.
I’m not a proper young lady of the family; no one minded if I roasted herbs myself. No one helped me, so I boiled the pot alone and carried it back to my room. The rain was so heavy that I decided to cut through Uncle Julian’s courtyard as a shortcut.
Uncle Julian liked quiet. Few servants were kept in that wing; he wouldn’t be out in weather like this.
I hurried along and, rounding a corridor, I saw Uncle Julian.
He stood beneath the covered walkway in a pale silver robe like a sliver of moonlight. Lovely and arresting, the rain made him look almost otherworldly. His slender fingers gripped a long sword; its cold sheen rested at the throat of a man kneeling before him.
"Mercy, Lord Julian! I’ll never do it again."
"You won’t?"
Julian’s lips curved faintly. His eyes darkened to an abyss. One precise move and blood splattered on the floor; his white robes dyed a decadent red.
The man collapsed. Blood pooled and streamed down the corridor, mixing with the rainwater.
I froze, nearly dropping the medicine.
Had I stumbled on Uncle Julian’s secret?
Without a protagonist’s shield, I seemed to stumble into everything.
I held my breath and tiptoed past, keeping my head down—only to hear a low, playful voice call, "Running away so fast—what for? Come over here."
I resigned myself and walked over, ignoring the man lying in the blood behind Julian. I forced out an awkward smile. "Uncle Julian."
Julian’s gaze dimmed for a moment, then he said, "Scared?"
"No." I answered honestly.
"Come in."
"Uncle Julian—"
"Why don’t you call me like Ethan does? ‘Uncle Julian’?"
He’s his nephew; I’m not his niece. I bristled inwardly, but I obediently said, "Uncle Julian."
Playing dumb to hide one’s strength is my specialty.
Julian smiled suddenly. His eyes, when he smiled, weren’t flat like still water; they glittered with starlight—deep and enchanting. "What did you bring?"
"Medicine for a chill."
To cover my embarrassment I snuffled a little like I had a cold.
"Come in and have some."
I wanted to refuse, but Julian was already stepping away. I followed. As I set foot over the threshold, "Uncle Julian, I should go back—I’m afraid I’ll pass it on—"
"Share half a bowl with me."
Julian said abruptly. "Lord Julian caught a chill last night."
Me: If I gave Uncle Julian this pregnancy deterrent, would it—kill him?
My thoughts scrambled as I watched his slender hand take the medicine pot and pour out half a small bowl. I grabbed it back; Julian’s hand brushed mine. Despite it being summer, his skin was icy, and I flinched.
His eyes drifted down to where our hands touched, amused. "Little Claire, don’t take advantage of Uncle Julian."
Shameless.
I took the bowl and drank it in one go—down to the last drop, as if about to eat the dregs.
"Finished."
"Good girl."
Julian’s smile deepened. "No medicine wasted this time."
I froze. I always hated bitter decoctions and usually drank only half, pouring out the rest.
How did Uncle Julian know?
"Cheapskate. Uncle Julian has his own medicine—he won’t fight you for it."
My eyes stung; I almost blurted out, "Uncle Julian, don’t keep your heroine. Be with me. I’ll stay with you. I’ll keep you company while you get better."
If you die, I might not be able to die with you, but I’ll mourn for you.
Words died on my tongue.
Uncle Julian and I aren’t lovers.
Besides, I’ve already lost my honor. I don’t care, but that doesn’t mean others won’t.
"At your age, why do you act like an old woman?" Julian ruffled my hair.
I pulled my hand away. "Uncle Julian, don’t take advantage of me."
Julian laughed. "Little brat—you’ve even learned to sass now?"
He changed the subject. "There were thieves in the manor last night. Weren’t you frightened?"
My hand went stiff; my face blank. "Thieves? In the manor? I didn’t know. I was out like a light."
"Is that so?"
For some reason, there was, I thought, a faint regret in his voice.
Regret that I wasn’t scared?
No—Uncle Julian’s temper was moody and he liked to tease me, but he always kept it just within bounds. He was pretty good to us juniors.
Still—whoever tarnied my reputation, I wanted to cut him into pieces!
"Uncle Julian, you’ll get better."
"Will I?"
Julian smoothed the sadness from his expression, smiling, but his eyes carried a world-weariness.
I said earnestly, "You’ll really get better."
I wasn’t lying.
That was how the original plot went.
Uncle Julian would meet his destined other half, be cured, and together they’d hold up the Wallace Manor.
In the original, the cannon-fodder female rival burned to death from an illness before she even entered the Wallace household. Now that I’ve transmigrated in and messed up the timeline, the heroine might show up later than she was supposed to—but the main line shouldn’t change.
I sighed. It’s fate of transmigration—why couldn’t I have come in as the heroine?
If I’m not the heroine, then at least don’t make me cross paths with Uncle Julian—aren’t you afraid this villainess will turn into a woman who hates because of love?
Heroine, where are you after three years? If you don’t show, don’t blame me for being unrighteous—I might steal your man!
"Does Claire resent Uncle Julian’s possible death?"
"I do."
Maybe he didn’t expect such bluntness; Julian stiffened for a heartbeat, then let out a low laugh. "Don’t worry. Julian isn’t a good man."
"True enough—an evil that will haunt for a thousand years."
I played along.
"Uncle Julian, the dowager wants to see the girl," a footman called.
"Go."
I left. Martha was waiting outside; she hadn’t found me in my courtyard and, when asking around, was told I was with Uncle Julian, so she came here.
When we went in, it wasn’t only the dowager—Grandpa Henry was here too. Even Charles and Margaret Wallace were present.
Oh, Ethan Wallace was there too, but he was kneeling; I hadn’t noticed him at first.
When he saw me enter, Ethan shot me a hateful look. I returned it with the back of my head; I heard him wheeze in annoyance.
I bowed to each of them.
"Claire is here." Grandpa Henry’s face was kind. "Come to Grandfather."
I obediently went over.
Grandpa patted the back of my hand and told the others, "I called everyone here today about the marriage between Ethan and Claire."
"Even if every woman in the world died, I would never marry her!"
"Silence!"
All four elders shouted in unison.
I didn’t have time to wonder why the dowager’s attitude seemed different—I suddenly remembered my medicine jar was left at Uncle Julian’s.
Would Uncle Julian be so bored as to look at what was inside? Even if he did, could he tell what was in it?
But if someone feels guilty, imagination runs wild.
My thoughts scattered; I didn’t catch the dowager calling my name.
She was displeased. "You’re supposed to marry Ethan as the Young Mistress and yet you act all flustered."
I hadn’t even agreed—how had it already become marriage?
Ethan was more upset, mouth twitching. "Marry me? Only if I die!"
After Sixteen Years, I Fell for the Hero
"Then go die!" Charles's voice was cold. "Take the young master back to his room. Do not leave it until the wedding."
"Yes."
"I won't marry—"
He started off loud, then his voice drifted smaller and smaller until it disappeared.
Charles looked embarrassed. "Claire, it's my fault for not raising Ethan properly. Don't suffer any wrongs. I'll persuade him to agree to the match."
I scratched my head and looked around the room.
Maybe Ethan's sneaking off to the Moonlit House had been discovered and the Wallace family wanted him to settle down, so they agreed to this match? After all, the old man's matchmaking had been one-sided before.
"I already like someone else."
Silence fell like a tomb.
For Grandpa Henry I could endure a lot, but marriage—no.
The dowager's eyes on me seemed to say: how did our family end up with such an ungrateful girl?
Charles and Margaret looked surprised but otherwise unreadable.
Grandpa sat quietly for a long moment, then asked, "Granddaughter, whom do you like? Tell Grandfather. I'll arrange a match for you."
The dowager, furious, slammed the door and stormed out; in her mind, her precious grandson could refuse me, but I was not permitted to refuse him.
Charles and Margaret left as well, leaving Grandpa and me alone.
I tapped my fingers together. "Grandpa, he doesn't like me."
"What young idiot has such poor taste?"
"It's not that he has bad taste," I said. He simply doesn't see me as a woman.
This blasted seniority.
By the time I left Grandpa's room, half an hour had passed. I'd forgotten the medicine jar and stepped out of the Manor.
I always knew I couldn't be entirely dependent on the Wallace family. They gave me pocket money each month; Grandpa secretly slipped me coins too, and I had saved up a sum.
From the little three-table bistro it grew into five branches—I'm a small rich woman now.
I hadn't hidden the restaurant from Grandpa; he told me I didn't need to tell the rest of the house and praised me for having business sense.
I knew the restaurant's success was as much his help as anything. Without him, a powerless woman like me would have had the place swallowed by rival forces long ago.
I worked until sunset and brought dishes back for everyone at the Manor.
The dowager might be displeased with me, but she ate the dishes I brought without hesitation.
I also brought candied fruit for Uncle Julian—my place's preserves were the best in the city.
But Uncle Julian's courtyard gate was shut.
I knocked a while; no answer. Ethan appeared instead. He snatched the candied fruit from my hand and smashed it to the ground, then raised his hand to strike me.
I couldn't take it.
I sidestepped his slap nimbly and kicked him hard—then kicked him again twice for good measure.
Ethan hadn't expected me to fight back; his temper flared even higher.
"You dare hit me?"
His eyes were more shocked than angry.
"Claire Bennett, I've never seen anyone as cruel as you. One minute you tell Grandfather you refuse me; the next you force Hannah to kill herself. She set her room on fire; when they rescued her, her face was ruined—are you satisfied?"
Ethan looked heartbroken in a way I'd never seen.
I said coldly, "I truly don't fancy you. So I wouldn't force your woman to do anything."
I bent to retrieve the shattered candy, and he grabbed me roughly.
Ethan, possessed, refused to believe me. I wouldn't let him slander me. We argued until we were shouting, attracting Uncle Julian and everyone else.
"Shut up!" The dowager finally silenced us all equally—her grandson making a scene over a courtesan angered her deeply.
I caught Uncle Julian in the corner of my eye. He wore just an inner garment with a pale patterned robe over it; his eyes were bloodshot, his complexion paper-white, a gust of wind would topple him—he'd clearly just fallen ill.
"Julian, go back to your room. I'll deal with these two rascals when I'm done," the dowager said, giving Ethan and me a glare.
"Everyone, into the rooms." Julian said, voice amused. "Ethan bullying Claire like this isn't appropriate."
Ethan looked wronged. "Uncle Julian, it's clearly her—"
The dowager cut him off with a glare.
Everyone obliged. The rest of the Wallace branches had come; the dowager had assembled them to hear what had happened.
It turned out the woman at the Moonlit House had attempted suicide, setting her chamber on fire. The blaze came from inside. When rescued, she was disfigured.
Ethan had snuck out to see her and witnessed the aftermath. He investigated and learned I'd gone with him to the brothel days before. Today someone also saw me with that woman at the bistro.
I was outraged—I had been wrongly accused. That day I went to buy medicine and happened upon them; today she herself had come to my restaurant and ordered a full table; I ran into her downstairs. We spoke fewer than three sentences.
"You planned this all along, didn't you? Knowing I wouldn't marry you, you used this method." The dowager's voice accused.
"Claire Bennett, did Grandfather know you had such schemes? How dare you treat the Wallace family this way."
"Hannah was kind—you're a viper."
"Ethan!" Charles and Margaret started to scold, but Julian spoke first.
Usually morose, Julian looked terrifyingly cold today; his face was frightening enough to make the dowager flinch.
Ethan, stunned, snapped coldly, "Oh really? Now even Uncle Julian—"
"—Ethan." I spoke before Julian could. "I didn't follow you. I only bumped into you when I went to buy medicine."
"Don't tell me you had to buy cold medicine personally? People said you were covered head to toe. How do you explain such shameful behavior?"
"Why can't I cover up when I buy contraceptives? Do I have to shout it from the rooftops?" I snapped, fighting the urge to hit him again.
My outburst silenced the room.
I felt better yelling, then regretted it; my eyes were wet and Julian was there; I felt deeply embarrassed.
Before anyone could parse the implications, Julian grabbed my wrist, dragged me into his courtyard, and left a single command: "No one is allowed in!"
My mind went blank. Pain pulsed at my wrist.
Just as I was about to step inside, I stopped and halted his pace. "Uncle Julian, I—"
He glanced at me. "Talk inside."
I noticed then the thin sweat on his sickly pale face. He pushed me into a chair and forced me to sit.
He poured a cup of hot tea and pressed it into my hands.
I held him like a wooden doll, the tea steam fogging my vision until everything blurred into a haze.
Facing everyone’s awkward questions or having the man I liked witness my worst moment—I’d rather take the former.
I’m leaving.
I put down the teacup and saw him propping himself on the table with one hand, his face twisted ugly with pain.
There was a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth.
Panic flared. I hurried over and helped him onto the bed. There were medicines on the table—half-drunk, clearly interrupted—and already cooled.
I wiped my tears. “Uncle Julian, I’ll warm the medicine.”
“Come here.”
I thought he had something urgent and sat down. He pulled a handkerchief from under the pillow and gently dabbed at the wet tracks by my eyes. “You’re crying like a little kitten.”
“I’m not.”
Saying it made no difference; the tears kept falling. I couldn’t hide how I felt in front of him.
He looked awkward, his bony fingers trembling. Finally he sighed, helpless. “Claire, you can’t cry like this. Uncle Julian can’t handle it.”
Uncle Julian was…delicate. Spoiled, fragile—too much emotional turbulence would set him off. I stopped wracking sobs, though the hiccups wouldn’t quit.
“You don’t want to marry Ethan because of him?” Julian asked.
I blinked, understood what he meant, and shook my head. “No.”
“So it’s because you actually like someone?”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t deny it.
Of course I liked you—I’d loved you for three years.
“And he and you—”
Julian seemed at a loss for words, trailing off for a long while.
I realized my words could be misunderstood and clarified, “Not him. And he doesn’t like me, either.”
“He’s blind!”
Julian declared that with finality. I snorted. Uncle Julian, do you know I’m talking about you? Calling yourself blind—really?
“Claire, you can’t let him go?”
“A little.”
“I’d really like to meet that person.”
Me: Why don’t you look in a mirror?
“You’ve been at the Wallaces’ for three years. You’ve heard about Uncle Julian’s condition, right?”
Why did the conversation suddenly swing to his illness?
“They say he had it in the womb.”
Julian gave a self-mocking smile. “Not true. After I was born, an astrologer read my fate—said I’m a cursed star, destined to bring chaos to the court. So Julian was born frail.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Astrology isn’t exact. You can’t take it literally,” I said, but it sounded weak. This was old times—everyone believed that stuff.
“Even so, I was tested, suspected.” Julian’s gaze locked on mine, deep and steady. “Claire, Uncle Julian seems to have done something very awful to someone—but I can’t remember.”
“How awful?”
“The kind that ruins a person for life.”
“Does that someone know it was you?”
“No idea.”
“If they knew… they’d probably want to kill me.”
I was about to respond when Julian ruffled my hair teasingly. “Don’t comfort me like that. You—couldn’t you hate that person? Want to kill them?”
Fair point.
I thought a moment, then said seriously, “Then I’ll make a promise. I won’t hate that person. I won’t kill them. And I hope whoever you wronged won’t hate you either.”
It sounded foolish, but if it were possible, I truly meant it.
Julian was stunned by my naive vow. He stared at me—his eyes swirling like a vortex—then smoothed his face into calm. “Uncle Julian is stepping out for a bit. Stay here. Don’t overthink. Don’t leave.”
He hesitated, then added, “Claire Bennett—wait for me.”
He rarely called me by my full name. Hearing it made my ears burn.
I didn’t want to go out immediately. Once I calmed down, I’d find Henry Wallace and explain.
I sat at the desk. I’d been in Uncle Julian’s rooms before; he didn’t forbid me touching his things. But with him gone I still didn’t mess with anything off-limits. I picked up a book and flipped the cover.
Something slipped from between the pages and hit the floor.
I bent to pick it up—and my pupils shrank hard.
It was the Old Family Token that always hung at my neck. It belonged to the original girl—I’d gleaned that from her memories. It wasn’t valuable, just a copper coin with the character “Qing” etched on it.
I’d lost that pendant the night of the incident. How could it be here in Uncle Julian’s room?
A cold, relentless deduction slid into my mind, connecting to the conversation we’d just had.
Was it what I suspected?
Tears splattered onto the coin as I staggered to my feet. Footsteps sounded outside.
I jumped out the window and ran.
I burst out of Wallace Manor because I couldn’t stay inside any longer. I had to get away before I lost my mind.
Outside, I collided with a broad forehead and nearly ran into a millstone. I stepped back eight feet.
“Miss Bennett, Miss Hannah wants to see you,” the little maid said, pointing to a nearby pavilion.
I went over.
Hannah Price wore a huge straw hat. When she lifted part of the cloth, I saw the burned parts of her face—horrible to look at.
“She’s been treated, but she’ll never be the same,” Hannah said with a faint smile.
She was gentle, soft-spoken.
“Miss Bennett, Ethan must have wronged you, right? I’ve come to apologize.”
“He’s not a bad person—he was ruined by me, not the other way around.”
“You’ve probably heard of the Grant Estate?” she asked.
“The family that was wiped out?”
“My name is Lydia Grant. My grandfather offended someone. Our house was seized. Male heirs over sixteen were executed; the women were forced into brothels. That’s how I was lost to the world.”
She laughed bitterly. “We grew up together—he and I always swore we’d be together. I planned to marry him and grow old by his side, but I never got the chance.”
“I left the capital for a while, went around, and came back as the top courtesan at Moonlit House.”
“One day he found out. He wanted to buy my freedom—I refused.”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t want it. I longed to be released, to go back to him. But I wasn’t the Lydia Grant I once was—ruined, like a broken flower. Maybe Miss Bennett would think—if he didn’t care, it would be fine.”
“But among my clients were high officials, even colleagues of Charles Wallace.”
Her eyes were full of desolation. “Could he still marry me? He might not mind, but how about Charles Wallace? The Wallaces? What would people say?”
“I would always be his stain. It wouldn’t come off.”
“Claire, I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. Please give him this letter. Tell him I’m getting married—tell him to stop looking for me. Let me keep the last bit of dignity.”
I took the letter and stood with it a long time until her sedan chair left.
There’s a lot of love that doesn’t get returned in this world.
I pocketed the letter and turned—and Ethan Wallace was standing right behind me.
He looked drained, eyes red and glassy.
In a daze I understood: maybe Hannah had known he’d follow me out and said all that to make him give up.
“Do you want the letter?” I asked.
“Of course.” Ethan took it without unfolding it. The knuckles on his hand were white.
He looked pitiful—like an abandoned cat.
“Claire… I’m sorry.”
He said it awkwardly.
“How rare,” I muttered.
“You—” he choked. “Look at your eyes—they’re puffy as two pears. So ugly.”
I flipped my hair and jabbed, “I’m a woman—if I cry, I cry. Shame on you. Besides, these are tears of joy, not like yours!”
Ethan: “…”
“Don’t expect me to comfort you. I want to enjoy being happy for a while.”
I was heartless.
Oh—Uncle Julian! If that person was him, I wouldn’t be devastated. I might even feel lucky. I slept with the man I loved—or rather, he slept with me. Who cares who with—what matters is the outcome.
Ethan muttered something filthy under his breath. He was in a foul mood and marched off without another word. I followed, my mind spinning with how to confront Uncle Julian.
I was strangely elated. Would Julian feel the same? What if I was wrong?
A woman in love—or rather, I hadn’t even fallen yet—and my head was already going crazy.
“Claire.”
Ethan suddenly stopped and looked at me awkwardly. “You got…you know. Anyway, you weren’t going to marry anyone.”
Excuse me? Who talks like that?
“If you really can’t marry—” he began.
“Hm?”
Like he was suffering torture, he said, “If you really can’t get married, I’ll reluctantly take you myself!”
“But don’t get any ideas. I don’t see you as a woman. My heart already belongs to her!”
I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, sir—someone already won me. I’m going to find him now.”
I turned and walked—but someone else came toward us.
Uncle Julian.
How did he get here so soon?
I confess I’m all talk and no courage. I wanted to run.
I’d taken just one step when he yanked me and pinned me against the wall.
Julian looked down at me and smiled low. His right hand slid from my arm to my waist; his left braced against the wall. “Running when you see me?”
“Didn’t you tell me to wait? Why are you so disobedient?”
He ruffled my hair. He’d done it before, but this time felt different—intense, intimate.
“Did you cry again after I left?”
I didn’t answer—too ashamed to ask him outright if he was the one that night. There were people around.
I glanced at Ethan. Our eyes met. He looked like he’d seen a ghost; words stumbled out of him. “Jul—Julian…you…you—there’s blood on your back?”
I tried to look, but Julian held my head. He said softly, “Just a small wound. Nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said, tilting my chin up.
“I’m not lying,” he replied, amusement in his eyes. “Father says I don’t show my elders respect, so he smacked me. He thought it’d make you pity me. Now he’s feeling a little reluctant.”
Was I right?
“Julian, let’s go back.”
Ethan and I helped Julian back to his room. At the doorway he suddenly froze and said to Ethan, "You should go on back."
"Uncle Julian, I'll put the medicine on him."
"Not appropriate!"
I still remember the look Ethan gave—clear as day: if he's not appropriate, then I am, right?
When I took off the back of Julian's shirt and started applying the salve, I finally understood what he meant by "not appropriate."
Besides the welts from the board, his back bore other, more suggestive marks.
Putting on medicine is ordinarily nothing, but right then it felt like something intimate and dangerously exciting.
Julian let out a low laugh. "You saw that?"
"…"
"Is little Claire shy?"
"Or did little Claire sleep with Uncle Julian and then not want to take responsibility?"
How could he be so blunt and shameless?
And then turn it back on me?
"Clearly you're the one who slept with me!"
"Mm."
Pleasure threaded his voice. "Uncle Julian admits it. Uncle Julian will take responsibility."
Something felt off about that.
I didn't answer for a long moment. Julian suddenly turned serious and looked at me. "You don't want to?"
"No."
I answered.
"Then that means you do want to?"
I was speechless. Today I really got a front-row seat to just how shameless Uncle Julian could be.
"Uncle Julian's a little older, not in the best health. Uncle Julian can't be sure—little Claire really willing or not, I must ask clearly."
Older my ass—he's only twenty-four.
"Claire."
Julian's eyes burned as he stared at me. "Are you truly willing?"
"I am."
I said softly. "And I'm kind of relieved too."
At first I was terrified and angry. After finding out it was you, I still couldn't accept everything that happened in that moment.
A woman, unaware, going through something like that—who could accept it? But if it's you… I forced myself to overcome it.
And I was a little relieved it wasn't someone else.
He laughed, loud and delighted above my head.
"So little Claire had designs on Uncle Julian all along?"
I almost— "Uncle Julian did too."
Before I could finish being stunned by his words, he swept me into his arms. The faint medicinal scent of him filled my nose.
His voice came from over my head, teasing. "Claire, your heart is beating so fast."
"Your breathing's uneven."
"Your face is flushed."
"ETHAN! JULIAN!"
I was furious, red with embarrassment.
"Mm."
It was like a switch flipped. Julian's shamelessness had no off button. "But that night, Uncle Julian doesn't remember much—only brought back an Old Family Token. Little Claire, want to help Uncle Julian remember?"
Remember my ass.
God help me.
I went to Grandpa's. He was still in bed, but looking much better. He was furious—rightfully so—at Julian for playing with someone younger. Grandpa hammered the bed, ranted that his little cabbages were being taken, even by his own son. His anger had peaked.
"Claire, it's all Grandpa's fault. If I'd known, I'd have let you look after your Uncle more—look after him until he… cough cough…"
He cut himself off.
"If you don't want to, don't marry."
I pointed to my finger. "Grandpa, actually, I'm willing."
Grandpa's face looked like he'd been struck by lightning.
He disappeared from my sight for a while—I think he didn't know how to handle the idea of his granddaughter turning into a daughter-in-law.
I knew Julian had been beaten because he'd confessed something to Grandpa, and he said he'd marry me.
After three awkward days, Grandpa started arranging the wedding.
He even started talking about having grandchildren from me and Julian. The youngest grandson in the family is Ethan; he was hopeless. Grandpa wanted better.
But I couldn't shake a gnawing worry—about the heroine who still hadn't shown up.
One night, while I was checking the ledgers, Ethan walked in carrying a big trunk.
Clang.
He set it down hard on the table, his face flushed—no telling how much he'd had to drink. I sent the servants out.
"Your things."
I opened the trunk. Inside were the gold and silver pieces Ethan had taken from me.
"She's married. I don't have to redeem her anymore."
"She married a butcher."
"She was so good—so gentle, talented at music, painting, everything—how could she marry a butcher?"
"That butcher can't even read a single character—what life will she have?"
"Claire, I've always bullied you, taken your things. I know you've always hated me. Hit me. I won't fight back."
"Really?"
"Hit me."
I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed his arm, and did a shoulder throw that floored him.
Ethan looked stunned—I guess he didn't expect me to actually move—and then we started fighting.
To be precise, I utterly dominated him.
He wanted to be hit; I wanted to vent my anger. I felt better, he felt better. We sat on the front steps of the house, each with a wine jar.
"Claire, did you know Uncle Julian's cousin is here?"
"Who?"
"That—Qingqing. I can't quite remember her surname."
I answered "Oh" without much thought, then my head buzzed. "Who did you say? Qing?"
"Uncle Julian's distant cousin. Came to our house when she was little. Name's Qingqing. I don't know her family name."
Yun Qing!
The original heroine had arrived.
I ran to Uncle Julian's courtyard.
Julian and Yun Qing stood side by side under a flowering crabapple tree—Julian handsome and refined, Yun Qing delicate and charming. Together they looked inexplicably perfect.
Yun Qing was chatting with Julian and made him laugh.
Of course the leads end up together. I was always just an accident in Julian's story.
Julian was a good person—maybe that's why he talked about marrying me.
I stood there a long time, too afraid to go in.
On presence, I lost.
On gentleness and finesse, I lost.
I couldn't live like this—time to go dark.
I had built my anger up to a flame, turned to leave—and someone yanked me back inside.
"Been standing there ages—are you guarding the door or what?"
It was Ethan.
Give me a break.
He ignored the glare I threw him. "Uncle Julian."
The leads all turned as if they'd rehearsed it a thousand times.
"Claire, this is Qingqing."
"Brother-in-law's wife," she said politely.
The heroine gave me a sweet smile. Her round face had two faint dimples—soft, adorable.
She was so unbearably cute I wanted to squeeze her.
Before I could properly greet her, Ethan muttered, "Do you have candy stuck in your teeth?"
The little heroine's face flushed. She covered her mouth, incredulous, then suddenly puffed up like a blowfish. "It's lip balm! It's lip balm!"
I had no time for their squabble.
Julian's color had gone bad.
"I'm fine," Julian forced a pained smile—and fainted.
His seizure hit hard.
Then I understood—Yun Qing could heal. She'd come specifically to treat Julian.
Her father was supposed to come, but he'd gone out, so she took his place.
The main door was shut tight. We all waited anxiously at the entrance until dawn. Yun Qing finally emerged with dark circles under her eyes—she could barely stand. Ethan and I steadied her.
"How is my uncle?" I asked.
"Not good," Yun Qing said, her face a little red, like she had something she couldn't say. "My cousin was probably given a drug recently—poison mixed into it. It's in his organs. There is no antidote I know."
"I'll find the one who poisoned Uncle Julian and rip their tendons out!" Ethan struck a pose like he was going to raid a household.
I said quietly, "Tearing out dragon tendons is hard."
"Eh?"
My voice dropped. They hadn't caught it. "I heard a reclusive master has come to the capital. I'll go ask."
I turned and ran, then paused and looked back at Yun Qing, my voice wobbling, "Miss Yun Qing… please… take care of Uncle Julian."
Maybe my look was too grave—Yun Qing looked bewildered.
I strode out dramatically.
I took Grandpa's token into the palace. The emperor was being indulged in the fragrant company of Consort Li; we interrupted the pair. He looked sour—like someone who'd just been disturbed at a very delicate moment. He barely asked, "What is it?"
"Antidote."
The emperor narrowed his dragon eyes, playing dumb. "A servant girl from the Wallace family should consult the court physicians."
"For Julian's antidote."
I said bluntly, "The emperor must know."
He squinted and stretched a dragon claw along the chair back. "I hear the Wallace house has a joyful event coming—looks like the bride is you?"
"I said yes. Emperor, will you give the antidote?"
He rose and appraised me from top to bottom, his eyes like a blade. "If you come to the palace, I will give the antidote."
Because of an absurd astrological decree, Julian had suffered twenty years of illness. Now they wanted to chain him by making me enter the palace?
I was furious enough to gouge out his dragon eyes.
Telling the emperor that the Wallace family was loyal and wouldn't rebel was useless—if he believed that, Julian wouldn't have had so much suffering.
I kept my tone steady. "The treasury is empty. If the border goes on the defensive, we won't last three years."
Not a secret, but filling that emptiness wouldn't be easy.
I took a booklet from my sleeve and handed it over. "If Your Majesty spares Julian, I'll provide silver every year."
The emperor leafed through it and was visibly startled.
Not to brag, but people at my bistro sometimes called me Lady Fortune. I only had five shops in the capital, but I did more than earn from them—this is where modern franchise models would have been handy. But I digress.
"Also, Julian will never take an official post!"
The emperor was silent for a long beat, then looked up. "And if you two have a son, the same."
What a leader. I'm not sure court office would be worth much under him.
"Fine."
I didn't expect the emperor to give me a written contract—signing anything would be admitting culpability for targeting Julian, and rulers dislike leaving stains.
He also wouldn't worry I wouldn't pay—the Wallace estate could always be seized.
I left the palace with the antidote.
Back at Wallace Manor, I went straight to Julian's courtyard. Oddly, there were no guards outside his door. It was ajar. I pushed it open.
Yun Qing was asleep at Julian's bedside, her hand held tight in his.
My pupils contracted sharply; my breath hitched.
"Brother-in-law? You're back?"
Yun Qing stood, her hand still caught by Julian's. He held on fairly tightly; she didn't break free at first and had to push several times before waking. She looked dazed. "Did you find the master?"
"Found him," I said coldly. "This is the antidote. Check if it's real."
Yun Qing took the test results and brightened. "It's real. Cousin can be saved."
She cheerfully fed Julian his medicine.
From the moment I fell for Uncle Julian, I was already doomed.
That night I went to the bistro, counted out the silver that had been meant for the palace, and sent it all in that same night. The dog emperor was more than satisfied with me; the next morning a little banner arrived at Wallace Manor praising me to no end.
They even gave me the title of County Lady.
A title in name only.
They claimed the Wallaces were well-bred and everyone received rewards—except Julian.
What they called rewards were really surveillance.
Grandpa Wallace had begun to see the truth about Uncle Julian. In the end, the household's safety mattered most.
The other uncles and cousins in the Wallace family remained amicable and kept aloof at court. The emperor didn't worry much about them.
The next day, Uncle Julian woke up.
I brought back some chicken soup I had made.
"Qing Qing said you found the antidote?"
"Yeah. A skilled person gave it to me."
"Little Claire's grown up—has concerns now," Julian said, the calm in his eyes making him look like he could see everything.
I felt an unreasonable prick of irritation. "If Uncle Julian already knows, why ask me?"
"Did someone bully you?" Julian asked.
"No," I said. "I just spent some silver. Quite a lot. It hurt my heart."
Julian hadn't had time to react when I added, "Also, I promised for you without permission—you can never serve at court again."
"Nor can your son," I added.
"Ours," Julian corrected.
"Are you sure you want to marry me?" I asked.
Julian wiped the last of a smile from his face; his gaze went deep. "Don't you trust me?"
"No."
"Did Uncle not explain properly before?"
I stayed silent.
"Seems so."
"I had a dream," I said. "In it you married a clever, virtuous woman. I was a nobody."
"Uncle Julian, have you ever thought—maybe I'm not—"
The back of my head was captured, pulled toward him. He leaned over and kissed me.
His lips were warm; my heart did somersaults I couldn't control.
He pulled back but stared at me steadily. "Claire Bennett, the only person I've settled on is you."
"I'm not marrying you because of that incident," he went on. "I've wanted this for a long time. I didn't say before because I was afraid of scaring you. As a senior family member, being attracted to a little niece would be… beastly."
Was I always in his heart?
Had I been the only one pining after him?
"Claire, did I do something that made you misunderstand?" he asked.
I hadn't expected him to be this direct. If I kept stalling I'd look ridiculous.
"When I came back last night, Qing Qing was asleep by your bed, and you were holding her hand."
My voice was small. Getting jealous and showing it made me a little embarrassed.
"Did that happen?" Julian's expression didn't look like a lie. He paused, then called for a servant. "Go fetch the little master."
Ethan came quickly. "Uncle Julian? What's up?"
"What did you do last night?" Julian asked.
"I didn't do anything!" Ethan said, then his eyes flicked between me and Julian and his leg shook with glee.
"Claire, you can't be jealous already, can you?" Ethan said.
"Say it plainly," Julian said coolly.
Ethan answered with an "oh" and went on, "Wasn't Uncle Julian not awake then? He kept calling your name—Qing Qing looked asleep, so I put her hand near him so he could maybe grab something. Sure enough, once he grabbed her hand he calmed right down. Genius of me!"
Sixteen "genius" my foot.
Any normal person wouldn't have done something that dumb.
I looked at Julian. He smiled gently and said, "You're his elder; elders chide juniors. Don't be modest."
Ethan yelped when I smacked him.
Qing Qing came in, heard the story, stomped on Ethan's foot with red eyes. "You're a pig!"
Ethan shot back, "You're a pig. Your whole family is pigs."
The girl fumed, stamping her feet until he ran off.
"Yun Qing, don't stoop to his level," I heard. I half-sensed the girl's feelings were the same as mine had been. I comforted her: "Also, sorry for misunderstanding you."
"Huh? Sister-in-law, I'm not Yun Qing," she said.
That made me freeze.
"I'm Li Qingqing—'Qing' like the mountain," she said.
Who was I? Where was I?
"Wasn't Yun Qing your sister-in-law?" I asked. How did I become Yun Qing?
"My cousin told me," Li Qingqing said. "The night I just arrived to visit my cousin, we talked under the crabapple tree. He said you had two names: Yun Qing and Claire Bennett. He told me a lot about you. He even asked me to help pick a hairpin to give you."
I: … Julian was surprised I didn't know. "Why don't you ask Father?"
I dashed out to find Grandpa.
Grandpa Wallace looked me over and said, "Back then I wanted you to marry that Ethan boy. I didn't want you to be without a home, so I had you registered as an adopted daughter under the nearby Yun family of the Wallace clan. I saw a 'Qing' mark on the coin you wear, so I named you Yun Qing."
"Who knew Julian would kidnap you!"
I remembered. In the original story, a distant niece came to the Wallace family and was registered under the Yun branch—she was supposed to be the heroine. I'd always thought the heroine was Li Qingqing. Turns out it was me.
All this time the heroine was actually me?
I'd been jealous of myself for three years?
I couldn't live like this anymore. Time to darken.
One month later, Julian and I wed.
He'd gotten much better, though he still appeared frail. At the wedding feast he simply made polite toasts and retired to his chamber.
Headdress, bridal robe, red curtains, candles.
Julian lifted the wedding veil, throat bobbing, and said in a softened voice, "Claire Bennett, you are finally mine."
Then he kissed me. His hand slid to my waist and gave a gentle tug—his cool skin against my own was an unfamiliar, thrilling jolt.
I had never known Julian could be like this in private. A flush colored his face; he breathed a little too fast, his presence hot.
A complete seducer.
I felt like a small boat at night, guided by him, drifting and swaying.
"Uncle Julian? Are you okay? They said you weren't feeling well."
Our mood was abruptly interrupted—Ethan hammered at the door like a man desperate. Both Julian and I froze.
Ethan was definitely the stumbling block on my path to happiness!
"No—" Julian's voice was a hoarse whisper when he finally answered.
Ethan pounded the door more urgently. "Claire, say something! Is my Uncle Julian okay? Why's his voice changed? Take it easy, Claire, my Uncle Julian… Li Qingqing, why'd you step on my foot?"
"Your father called you!" Qing Qing dragged him out, half pulling, half dragging.
I breathed out, looked at Julian. My face heated. "Shall we—"
"Continue," he said.
The curtains fell, shrouding the room in a private, intoxicating hush.
