The voice in Su Yue’s mind vanished like mist in the wind, leaving behind the echo of the jarring bell. Her temples pounded relentlessly.
Anger value?
Her lashes fluttered as she raised her eyes in disbelief. Her gaze swept over He Xiaoqin’s face—smugness flickering there like a shadow—and then to Jiang Haoyan, who hung his head quietly. But finally, her eyes settled on Jiang Ci.
Could it be… him?
Were her headaches and the voice in her mind connected to Jiang Ci’s emotions? His anger?
What sort of twisted plot was this? Why hadn’t the book mentioned anything like this at all?
Although the headache this time was bearable, that shrill bell had been unbearable. Su Yue forced herself to remain calm as she asked in a composed voice, “Why did you throw the flowers away?”
Jiang Ci’s scarred face turned toward her. His lips curled in a cold, derisive sneer. “Su Yue, what are you playing at? Do you really think that if you kill me, you’ll be free to be with Jiang Muhang?” His voice was mocking, but beneath it simmered something more bitter. “It’s a miracle I haven’t killed you yet. You’re really in a hurry, aren’t you?”
Su Yue blinked. “Kill you?”
She was completely baffled. “I only brought in a vase of flowers. The room felt lifeless—I thought a few fresh blooms might brighten it up. How is that a crime? Will someone die because of that?”
Because they were seated relatively close to each other, her eyes met Jiang Ci’s. In that moment, Su Yue’s breath caught. His dark eyes, though dulled and ashen like glass that had lost its luster, were still breathtaking. That eye shape—peach blossom eyes—was exactly her type.
She couldn’t help imagining how stunning he must have looked before the accident, before the scars and blindness.
“I’m allergic to pollen.” Jiang Ci’s thin lips moved, his tone icy and sharp. “Severely. It can be fatal. That’s not some secret. Anyone who bothers to ask would know. But you? You chose to pretend ignorance.”
Su Yue was stunned. “I… didn’t know.”
She truly hadn’t. The novel hadn’t said a word about this. Besides, there were flowers blooming all around Xiaoyang Tower. How could she have guessed that he couldn’t even be near them?
So… he thought she was trying to poison him? And that’s why he was angry?
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t know you were allergic to pollen,” she said earnestly, voice soft. “We’ve been married for over half a year. No one has told me anything about it.”
Her eyes found his again—those cold, scarred features—serious and sincere. “Jiang Ci, I’ve never once thought about hurting my husband.”
Even the original Su Yue hadn’t considered murder, no matter how much she resented him.
“You think I’d believe you?” Jiang Ci scoffed and turned his face away, his mood brooding.
Su Yue wanted to say more, but just then—her headache vanished. The bell stopped.
【Anger value: 0】
She stared at Jiang Ci, wide-eyed. He wasn’t angry anymore?
So easily appeased?
But it was clear now—her headache and that insistent bell were tied to his emotions. If he got angry, she suffered. Was she… destined to keep him calm for her own sake?
Pushing aside the chaos in her mind, Su Yue raised her head and said, “He Xiaoqin, take the flowers out. Throw them away.”
He Xiaoqin was clearly shocked. No tantrum? No screeching? Was this really Su Yue?
“What are you still standing there for?”
Su Yue’s voice was pleasant to the ears, but her tone carried weight. “As Jiang Ci’s nurse, you should’ve known about his allergy. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her words were direct and unmistakable—she truly didn’t know.
He Xiaoqin hadn’t expected Su Yue to twist things around so shamelessly. She quickly retorted, “I thought you, as Master Jiang Ci’s wife, would already know.”
“I overlooked it before. But in the future, if there’s anything I should be aware of, you must remind me as his nurse.”
Su Yue’s calm admission left no room for argument. He Xiaoqin could only nod, aggrieved.
Earlier, Su Yue had claimed she was dieting. As a result, the meal served to her was all vegetables—no oil, no meat. But across from her, Jiang Ci and the little one had a feast: braised prawns, steamed osmanthus fish, ribs glistening in rich sauce.
Su Yue looked down at the soft rolls of flesh around her waist and quietly clenched her jaw.
She had to lose weight.
Back in the entertainment industry, she’d perfected dieting for the sake of maintaining her figure. She could still do it now.
Her eyes fell on the fish. She picked the most tender piece and carefully removed the long, fine bones, placing the clean, white meat into a small porcelain bowl. Then she placed it in front of Jiang Ci.
“Jiang Ci, the fish is very fresh today. I’ve already removed the bones. You can eat it safely.”
At first, Su Yue had only wanted to get along peacefully with Jiang Ci. But now that she understood his anger affected her physically, she had even more reason to maintain harmony between them.
Jiang Ci remained motionless. “I don’t eat fish.”
He remembered too well how she used to complain—loudly—about his face, saying she couldn’t eat while looking at him. Now she was offering him food? Trying to act affectionate?
What was her game?
“You don’t eat fish?”
Su Yue’s lips parted, confusion flitting across her face. If he didn’t eat fish, why did the kitchen prepare it? Just as she was about to speak again, she suddenly thought of the flowers.
He was allergic, yet they were planted all around Xiaoyang Tower. Was this “rest” actually a soft kind of imprisonment?
The Jiang family… held far more secrets than she had imagined.
Jiang Ci ignored her.
Undeterred, Su Yue pushed the bowl toward Jiang Haoyan instead. “Then I’ll give it to Xiao Haohao.”
The little boy had been eating quietly, his soft face lowered in silence. When he heard her words, he lifted his head slowly, his mouth pursed tightly.
“I don’t eat fish either,” he mumbled, his voice milky.
“No? But fish is very nutritious. If you eat more, you’ll grow taller,” Su Yue said gently, her voice warm and coaxing.
Jiang Haoyan shrank back, clearly afraid. His chubby body trembled as He Xiaoqin returned from throwing out the flowers.
His face was tense, his large eyes shimmering with unspoken grievances. Still, he picked up the fish with a small silver spoon and put it into his mouth, swallowing quietly.
Of course Su Yue noticed how reluctant the child was.
When the original Su Yue married into the family, Jiang Haoyan had been overjoyed and anxious at the same time. He finally had a mother like the other children. But soon he overheard the maids whispering about how his stepmother was a cruel, mean woman who liked to beat children. His joy quickly turned into fear.
And sure enough, the original Su Yue had never once looked at him kindly. She found him disgusting, calling him a bastard and pushing him away. After being rejected again and again, Jiang Haoyan had learned to stay away.
He didn’t like her. And now, he didn’t trust her either.
Su Yue nibbled on her bland greens, all the while thinking about how to win the little one’s heart. She adored children—especially sweet little angels like him. She couldn’t wait to scoop him up into her arms and shower him with love.
“Does it taste good?” she asked softly, watching him eat with a little scowl that made him look eerily like Jiang Ci.
“Tastes bad.”
Jiang Haoyan was a truthful child. But the moment the words left his lips, he quickly covered his mouth in fear, his big eyes darting toward He Xiaoqin.
“Children shouldn’t be picky eaters,” Su Yue chuckled. “Next time, I’ll make fried pine nuts for you. I’m a great cook, you know.”
She really was. Cooking was her passion—she’d always had a knack for it. Every dish she made was delicious. But back in her old life, her schedule had been too hectic for much time in the kitchen.
Jiang Haoyan’s little cheeks were puffed out with fish, his round eyes wide with disbelief. It was the first time the “bad woman” had spoken to him so kindly.
“Little Master, your hands are oily,” He Xiaoqin said softly. “Come, I’ll take you to wash them.”
The boy trembled again. His eyes turned to Jiang Ci, silently begging.
“Let’s go,” He Xiaoqin said, reaching out to guide him. “Later, I’ll peel some shrimp for you.”
Su Yue’s gaze fell on his small hands, sticky from the prawn he had tried to peel. She smiled. “Xiao Haohao, go wash your hands. Do you want to eat shrimp? I’ll peel it for you.”
Jiang Haoyan didn’t speak. He hung his head and followed He Xiaoqin out of the room, small shoulders hunched.
Now, only she and Jiang Ci were left. Silence settled in.
Su Yue picked up a bright red prawn. Her fingers, though plump from softness, moved deftly, peeling the shell away with practiced ease. The shrimp inside was pink, glossy with flavor.
She peeled a second, then glanced sideways at Jiang Ci. Today, like always, he wore black—cold and distant like the aura around him. From where she sat, she could see his unscarred right profile clearly.
The bridge of his nose was high and straight, his jawline sharp and elegant. Even disfigured, he was beautiful. In his prime, before the injuries, he must have been devastatingly handsome. She had met countless men in the industry, but none of them could compare to this face.
People only saw his scars. They forgot how striking he truly was.
“If you keep staring at me, get out,” Jiang Ci snapped coldly.
He couldn’t see, but he could still feel her gaze—so intense, so persistent.
Su Yue didn’t mind. In fact, she found him a little funny. Ugly, blind, and with a temper like a storm—no wonder people stayed away from him.
“Why are you so stingy? I can’t even look at you?” she said playfully, placing another peeled shrimp into a bowl. “You’re handsome, and you’re my husband. Of course I want to look.”
Su Yue knew how to use her words. She didn’t climb to the top in the entertainment industry with just looks and talent. Her sweet mouth could charm anyone—if she wanted to.
But this wasn’t flattery. She genuinely liked Jiang Ci’s face. To others, the scars were horrifying. But to her? They were nothing. She had suffered far worse burns herself—burns that oozed pus and reeked. Compared to that, Jiang Ci’s wounds were barely worth mentioning.
“Shut up.”
Jiang Ci’s face remained indifferent, not a flicker of belief in his eyes. This was the same woman who’d been so terrified of him, she refused to share a bed. The same woman who mocked his face when his back was turned. And now she said this? Ridiculous.
Su Yue pouted slightly. What an ungrateful man.
Just then, she spotted a small figure slowly walking back in—short legs, lowered head.
“Xiao Haohao, come quickly,” Su Yue called cheerfully. “The shrimp is ready for you.”
Jiang Haoyan’s face was pale, and his wide, frightened eyes brimmed with unshed tears.