Overwhelmed by the horrific curse he witnessed, Doctor Hile froze like a pillar of salt. The door slammed shut in front of him, shattering like glass.
Unable to even think about knocking, Hile absorbed the animalistic howls until they abruptly stopped, cutting through the air like a knife. Scrambling backward on his bottom, he then bolted in the opposite direction.
His trousers soaked through, whimpers spilled from his lips without tears. He had no time to feel shame.
The memory of those blood-red eyes, glaring as if to crush him, seemed unforgettable, even in death.
The physician, Hile, lay ill.
The butler, Gustav, had witnessed Hile collapsing from afar and quickly shoved him into a guest room.
A butler administering a sedative to a physician. As Gustav pondered the unusual circumstances of the doctor’s initiation, a message arrived from the gate guard.
Pale-faced, Gustav relayed the message to his master.
“The carriage is still there?”
Clade, having regained composure by day, opened his eyes and asked Gustav.
Creak—Creak—.
His body, sprawled on the old rocking chair that hadn’t been oiled, showed no intention of getting up.
Gustav, wishing he could change something in this bedroom, starting with the annoying chair, replied through gritted teeth.
“Yes. No coachman, but there seems to be faint movement inside the carriage…”
“You must have heard wrong.”
Clade cut off Gustav’s words, clearly uninterested in hearing more.
His indifferent gaze drifted through the air and towards the window.
Through the slightly open curtains, the same snow that fell every day was relentlessly coming down this morning as well. Observing Clade’s slightly furrowed brow, Gustav added.
“Perhaps you should have gone out when Lord Lev requested you yesterday?”
“If I had gone out every time I was called, I would have faced about eight farewells by now.”
Gustav hesitated before speaking again.
“Actually, I went out to check at dawn, Your Highness. The new lady inquired if you, the prince, had given permission to enter.”
A look of annoyance shot from Clade to Gustav, but quickly redirected towards the new bride.
“My permission?”
Clade scoffed.
“Such ambitious dreams.”
Gustav, glancing at Clade, picked up the blood-stained bed sheets.
Stains from Clade’s nightly eruptions of pain, as he endured by stabbing his own hand. Blood spots were everywhere, on the plush carpet and wooden floors.
The spacious, dark bedroom felt more like a warrior’s quarters returning from a brutal battlefield, rather than a noble prince’s chamber. The amount of blood shed yet still sustaining life was astonishing.
But in Clade’s surroundings, nothing was ordinary; questioning it only led to headaches.
Gustav swallowed hard, hurrying to tidy the room.
His experienced hands were filled with the resolve to clean the room rather than bother the prince with news of a bride he wouldn’t care about.
“Anything else you need?”
“Tired of hearing about killing my wives, tell her to get lost.”
Clade, irritably fiddling with the bandaged hand Gustav had treated, commanded.
Gustav leaned in closer to Clade.
Clade glared at him as if he were the ninth wife standing outside, his face coldly contemptuous.
“If she doesn’t want to leave, tell her to die. But not in front of my house.”
Gustav hesitated momentarily but then, accustomed to such responses, bent halfway and disappeared with the blood-soaked sheets.
Only after the bedroom door clicked shut, completely sealing the room, did the worn-out, sensitive body of the owner begin to rock the chair again.
Creak—Creak—.
In a world enveloped by a white winter morning, Clade’s bedroom finally welcomed his night.
Even without its light, his eyes, like sparkling beads, slowly closed under his eyelids. Clade, who had been grinding his teeth while recalling the pain-filled night and bracing for more to come, slowly relaxed his jaw. Soon, Clade Euphris’s dark bedroom was submerged in perfect silence.
Until then, Clade was unaware.
He didn’t know that his ninth wife had been steadfastly waiting outside for an astonishing three days, four if counting the nights.
Butler Gustav genuinely didn’t want to disturb the sensitive prince with anything irritating.
However, there was a fact he needed to report to his master, who despised the shadow of death looming over his house, even if it meant looking like a corpse himself.
“Gustav, have you lost your mind?”
“I apologize, Your Highness. But how could I possibly lay hands on Lady Euphris? I’ve only seen those who left on their own accord, never like this…”
The terrifying truth was that the prince’s ninth bride had stubbornly endured three days, four nights in human terms.
Clade, who had been lying listlessly in bed, got up.
Usually dismissing the window as mere decoration, Clade moved close to it, facing the landscape visible through the white frost. His eyes nervously scanned outside.
He saw a pathetic carriage, still standing defiantly past the snowy field and iron fence.
Male lead is a Divorced Husband
She said to him: “Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change it!”
Liu Changning transmigrated into a female cannon fodder character in a female-dominant novel.
After reading the first half of the novel’s plot, the first thing she did upon transmigration was to divorce the Pan Jinlian-style male protagonist she had just married.
She indulged herself, pretending to be ugly and poor.
But as time passed, the way that man looked at her became more and more unusual…
Liu Changning was dumbfounded: Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change!
――
This lifetime, Pei Yuanshao was rejected by the same woman twice!
The first time, she drove him away. Forced by the situation, he endured the waves of anger in his heart, yielding and humbling himself.
That person lay slanted on a rocking chair, her sallow face emotionless: “If you don’t want a divorce, go cook!”
Pei Yuanshao’s face was dark and gloomy: “You!”
The second time, after the crisis in Jinling City was resolved, the new emperor sent someone to pick him up. He turned around, stammering: “I… I have to go. If you keep me…”
That person lay on the kang bed, her back to him, as if she had long anticipated this day, crisp and clear: “Goodbye!”
Pei Yuanshao was so angry his fingers trembled: “You… you!”
The mission of family and country made him restrain himself, averting his eyes and turning to leave this broken household.
Two years later, they met again. Seeing her ethereal face, his body shook like a sieve.
“She was originally a ‘she’!”
At the Qionglin Banquet, the top scholar of the imperial examination, a talented person with exceptional speech and conduct, all the unmarried young gentlemen from aristocratic families looked at her with shy and timid eyes.
The peerless imperial official Pei Yuanshao felt the anger in his heart erupt. He pointed at the woman surrounded by the crowd at the Qionglin Banquet, his thin lips slightly curled: “Little sister, I wants that person to be the wife-master of my Mingde Prince Manor.”
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