Chapter 549: Chapter-549
[ This Chapter have many distrubing scenes such torture and etc so please read with caution]
For a long moment, he just stood there, looking at her back. The gentle, blindingly warm smile that had charmed the servants just moments ago melted off his face like wax sliding off a hot candle.
What was left behind was a canvas of pure, unadulterated apathy. His dark, bottomless eyes swept over her small, heavily decorated frame. He tilted his head, his gaze cold, calculating, and deeply sadistic.
"My beautiful wife," the Prime Minister whispered.
His voice was still melodic, but the warmth was completely gone. It sounded like a blade sliding smoothly out of a silk sheath.
The third wife slowly turned her head. Her blank, dead eyes met his. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t cry. She had learned a long, long time ago that crying only made the game more entertaining for him.
The Prime Minister walked forward, his green-and-white robes rustling softly. He stopped right behind her and slowly reached out his large, elegant hands.
His long fingers brushed against the thick, suffocating layers of her crimson silk collar.
There was a very specific reason he dressed her in such heavy, high-collared robes, even in the warmth of the capital’s summer. It wasn’t just to show off his wealth. It was a physical cage, designed to completely hide the skin of her neck, her back, and her arms. The heavy silks concealed the jagged, overlapping canvas of burns, cuts, and circular puncture wounds that mirrored the exact fate of his first two wives.
"Did you eat the pastries I sent you?" he asked, his voice a soft, terrifying purr right beside her ear.
"Yes, My Lord," she answered. Her voice was incredibly raspy and quiet, completely devoid of emotion.
The Prime Minister smiled—a sharp, cruel curve of his lips. He reached up and gently touched one of the massive gold-and-ruby hairpins weighing down her head. He dragged his finger down the sharp edge of the gold, tracing the line of her jaw, before violently gripping her chin and forcing her head tilt up to look at him.
Her neck strained under the weight of the jewelry, but she kept her eyes completely empty, staring past him into the dark sky.
"You look so perfect like this," he whispered, his thumb pressing dangerously hard against her fragile jawbone. "So quiet. So beautiful. So obedient."
He leaned in closer, the scent of his expensive Longjing tea and fresh ink mingling with the metallic tang of fear that radiated off her skin.
"But I had a very frustrating day at the Imperial Court today," the Prime Minister continued, his tone conversational, as if he were discussing the weather. "The Vanguard’s little heir was incredibly disrespectful to me on the jade terrace. She has a very sharp tongue. It reminded me how much I hate women who speak out of turn."
His grip on her jaw tightened until it bruised, his nails digging into her porcelain skin.
"But you aren’t like her, are you?" he murmured, his eyes flashing with a dark, twisted hunger. "You are my perfect, mute little doll. You know exactly how to help your husband relieve his stress."
He let go of her jaw and reached toward the heavy silk sash tied tightly around her waist.
"Stand up," the Prime Minister commanded, his voice dropping into a freezing, absolute octave. "Let us see if you can remain perfectly silent tonight."
The third wife stood up.
It was a slow, mechanical movement, devoid of any human grace or hesitation. As she rose, the heavy gold hairpins, the thick pearl necklaces, and the layers of imperial jade bangles clinked together. In the quiet, romantic setting of the Water Pavilion, the expensive jewelry didn’t sound like the ornaments of a noble lady.
They sounded exactly like the rattling of iron chains.
She stood perfectly straight, keeping her eyes fixed on a glowing paper lantern hanging over the koi pond, refusing to look at his face.
The Prime Minister let out a soft, satisfied hum. He stepped closer, the pristine green-and-white silk of his scholar robes brushing against her heavy crimson dress.
"Good girl," he praised smoothly.
He reached out and took hold of the thick, embroidered sash tied around her waist. With a single, sharp pull, the knot came undone. The heavy outer layer of her crimson silk robe slipped off her small, fragile shoulders, falling to the wooden floor with a soft thud.
The cool night breeze immediately hit her skin, making her small frame shiver.
Underneath the heavy outer robe, she wore a simple white inner garment. But the Prime Minister wasn’t finished. His elegant, beautifully manicured hands reached for the high, suffocating collar at her neck. He unfastened the top buttons, pulling the fabric down, exposing her shoulders and her upper back.
The porcelain perfection of her face did not extend to her body.
Her pale skin was a horrifying, jagged tapestry of human cruelty. The servants who constantly wondered why she never visited the hot springs or wore lighter summer clothes had no idea that her back was completely covered in thick, overlapping burn scars. There were faded, raised whip marks cutting across her fragile shoulder blades, and perfectly round, dark puncture wounds scattered across her collarbone.
She was his private, ruined canvas.
The Prime Minister ran his thumb over a particularly deep, jagged scar on her shoulder.
"The Vanguard Madam acted very high and mighty today," the Prime Minister murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, hypnotic rhythm as his fingers traced the ruined skin. "She stood on the jade terrace, looking at me with those arrogant eyes, thinking she had the absolute upper hand just because she carries a sword."
He trailed his hand up to the back of her neck, his grip suddenly tightening like a vice.
"She thinks she is untouchable," he hissed, the civilized scholar mask completely shattering. "Women who think they are untouchable are always the most satisfying to break."
The third wife did not make a sound. Her breathing remained completely shallow, her face a blank mask of apathy.
When she had first arrived at this estate three years ago, she had cried. She had screamed for her uncle, begged for mercy, and fought with everything her tiny sixteen-year-old body possessed. But she quickly learned the most terrifying truth about the monster she married: her tears only excited him. Her screams were the exact music he wanted to hear.
If she reacted, he would drag it out for hours.
So, she learned to turn her soul completely off.
As the Prime Minister reached into the wide sleeve of his green robes and slowly pulled out a long, terrifyingly sharp silver needle—the kind used by royal acupuncturists—the third wife simply disconnected her mind from her body.
She stared out at the dark, rippling water of the koi pond. She watched a massive orange fish swim lazily under the light of a paper lantern. She focused all of her attention on the gentle swish of the willow branches swaying in the wind.
’It will be over soon,’ she told herself, the same hollow mantra she repeated every single night.
She did not feel the coldness of the silver needle pressing against her skin. She did not hear his cruel, poetic whispers. In the absolute silence of her own shattered mind, she simply envied the first two wives who were already resting peacefully in the cold earth, waiting for the day when she would finally be allowed to join them.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter