“Mạc Lưu Ly, you were born destined to be a servant of the Mạc family; in this life and the next, you will never escape your fate!”
“Mạc Lưu Ly, you are merely a Commandery Princess in name only, a cheap, lowly replacement tool!”
“Mạc Lưu Ly, for you to replace the Princess and marry Xung Vương is an honor your family will enjoy for three generations, what are you crying about?”
“Lưu Ly, how can you be so selfish? Defying the emperor’s decree is a death sentence. Your younger brother is only fifteen, how can you bear to let his future be ruined by a useless girl like you?”
Mạc Lưu Ly recalled the cruel words she had endured over the past few months, ever since she received the imperial decree of a political marriage with Xung Vương Trịnh Hàn. She lifted her veil, her lifeless gaze fixed on the closed door of the bridal chamber, as if watching her own vibrant youth forever close off.
A sigh was tightly suppressed within her youthful, full chest; she forced her tears to flow back inward. The bridal chamber held not a single valuable item; everything around her was cold and tinged with sorrow. The flickering, dim candlelight cast a faint and gloomy glow upon her figure.
After tonight, Mạc Lưu Ly would officially become the esteemed Xung Vươngfei of Định An city, bearing the heavy responsibility of a “peace envoy.” Or rather, she was a cheap commodity used by the Mạc family’s emperor and his court to buy peace for the borders of Nam Quốc.
She knew well that, as a Commandery Princess of Nam Quốc, she was never meant to choose her own marriage. Yet…
Mạc Lưu Ly sighed, reaching into her sleeve to pull out a small arrowhead, wrapped tightly in a pale blue handkerchief. Mạc Lưu Ly had kept this arrowhead for six years, as if hiding the naive sentiments of a twelve-year-old girl. Perhaps from now on, Mạc Lưu Ly would bury this arrowhead, and with it, forever bury her first love.
Tears instantly welled up, blurring the scene before her eyes. Mạc Lưu Ly vaguely heard chaotic footsteps outside the door. She tucked the arrowhead under her pillow, then quickly pulled her veil back over her head, awaiting the terrible thing she was about to face.
“Creak.”
The room door suddenly opened, then slammed shut again. Mạc Lưu Ly closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
Mạc Lưu Ly distinctly felt the strong scent of alcohol lingering around her nose, exhaled into the cold air around her. She shivered involuntarily, her hands clenching the lapels of her dazzling red duikham robe.
Suddenly, Mạc Lưu Ly’s veil was violently flung off, and the scent of alcohol from earlier intensified, assaulting her nostrils. Mạc Lưu Ly’s eyes widened as she looked at the man violently pinning her down on the large bridal bed; he said not a word, frantically tearing her garments to shreds, piece by piece.
Her pale body was instantly exposed under the dim light, trembling repeatedly from the cold air. Mạc Lưu Ly’s tears flowed uncontrollably, tracing paths past her temples and seeping into her dark, flowing hair.
He was Xung Vương Trịnh Hàn, young and talented, cold and ruthless, feared by the Mạc family’s emperor and his court. He was also the one who had repeatedly threatened the imperial court with an uprising to conquer the capital. He was also her husband, the man she could only ever obey, never resist.
Trịnh Hàn’s large, calloused hand fumbled inside the duikham robe, which was already torn in a large section, touching the tender, smooth skin of her waist. His heavy body pressed down on her mercilessly, suffocating her.
His monstrous hand continued to knead and squeeze every inch of her flesh, leaving her body covered in raw, red lacerations. Whether it was the alcohol clouding his mind, or his desire to unleash all his resentment towards the Mạc imperial family upon Mạc Lưu Ly, Trịnh Hàn mercilessly bit and gnawed at every inch of her tender skin, leaving purplish-red tooth marks on her neck and chest.
The pain in her body made Mạc Lưu Ly unable to hold back her tears, but she absolutely bit down hard on her lower lip, not daring to utter a single sound.
Her crimson lips were bitten until they were swollen and bruised. Mạc Lưu Ly felt the metallic, cloying taste of her own blood filling her mouth. Trịnh Hàn's hands continued to knead and caress Mạc Lưu Ly's entire body. He squeezed her wrists tightly, forcing her hands above her head.
His eyes devoured her like a predator eyeing its delicious, pathetic prey with no escape route, only able to wait for him to devour it at will. Trịnh Hàn savagely tore away the last piece of fabric on Mạc Lưu Ly's body.
He brutally forced her legs apart, then frantically rubbed his own hardened, burning body against hers. Without hesitation, he thrust his hips forward, completely taking possession of Mạc Lưu Ly's body. Mạc Lưu Ly furrowed her brows, biting her lips tightly, but she couldn't suppress the choked sobs of agony as if her fragile, weak body was being torn apart.
Her tears, like clear pearls, streamed down, drenching her dark lashes. In her pain, she thought of the man in her dreams, her small hand reaching for the wedding pillow that concealed her only keepsake, a testament to a first love that had withered before it could bloom. Mạc Lưu Ly dared not reach under the pillow, dared not let her defiled body face that priceless arrow.
Mạc Lưu Ly's body was toyed with, tormented by Trịnh Hàn, swaying helplessly, rocking with each of his brutal movements. The physical pain mingled with the humiliation made her wish for death. But Mạc Lưu Ly dared not resist, not even a little. At this moment, only her eyes were truly honest, filled with fear, resentment, and choked emotion, her temples already drenched.
She didn't know how much time had passed. Mạc Lưu Ly's consciousness grew increasingly hazy, her eyes tiredly half-closed, while in her ears still echoed the words of Mạc Liễn Đế, the very Emperor she deeply revered and feared: “If you displease Xung Vương and he raises an army in rebellion, not a single member of your family will survive!” Then Mạc Lưu Ly fainted, in her countless throes of pain.
Trịnh Hàn stood up, satisfied. He wiped away the glaring crimson bloodstains from his body, then coldly gazed at the naked form of the woman on the bed. Trịnh Hàn smirked, his eyes filled with deep-seated hatred. He decisively grabbed Mạc Lưu Ly's ankle and flung her onto the cold floor.
Mạc Lưu Ly had completely lost consciousness. She no longer felt the pain in her body, her eyes tightly shut, her delicate brows furrowed as if in a nightmare.
Trịnh Hàn coldly uttered a command to the wet nurse standing by the door: “The descendants of the Mạc family are lowly and despicable, unworthy to live under my, Trịnh Hàn’s, gaze. Take her and all her dowry, and throw them into the thatched hut behind the Prince’s Estate. Without my command, she is not permitted to enter the main hall.”
Having said that, Trịnh Hàn immediately turned and walked away. He headed towards a luxurious, splendid chamber, which was the residence of his beloved concubine, Chu Yunyue, the woman Trịnh Hàn was utterly infatuated with.