On Our Wedding Night, I Came Clean to My Cousin—and Nearly Died of Kidney Deficiency - Chapter 4

Life at the marquis’s estate continued as before, and I remained very happy.

At first, I felt a little guilty whenever I saw my second cousin, worried he might think I had attached myself to him. I especially dreaded a lecture.

But he wore the same icy expression as ever, so I stopped caring.

Men truly had it different. Marriage hardly affected them, whereas for a girl, it was like jumping into a pit of fire.

The days flew by…

Amid a clamor of gongs and drums, I married my second cousin.

My aunt had told me to spend the wedding night in his rooms so people would not think there was something wrong with me. The next day, I could move back to my old courtyard beside hers, with its lake, plants, trees, clothes, and jewelry—all the things I loved.

At last, every ceremony was complete.

I yawned. I was sleepy.

In the candlelight, my cousin looked exceptionally handsome. The wine had flushed his cheeks, lending him an almost bewitching beauty.

I admired him for a moment, then decided he could sleep on the floor.

So when his long fingers began undoing the fastenings on my clothes, I shrieked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

He froze.

Realizing I had overreacted, I cleared my throat. “Cousin, let’s not consummate the marriage. We can carry on as brother and sister. You have your old flame, and I have your mother.”

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

I hurried to explain. “Auntie didn’t tell you because she was afraid you’d refuse. After all, you seem…”

I gave him a complicated look, making it clear he did not inhabit the same world as the two of us.

Then I continued, “Auntie says we only need to be husband and wife in name. You can be with your sweetheart and even bring her into the estate. Auntie will find you two chambermaids as well. When they have children, I’ll raise them. That’s about it.”

On reflection, the arrangement did seem a little dismissive of him, so I added, “Don’t worry. I’ll raise your children well and be a capable wife. If you want anything, tell me. We can negotiate.”

He stared at me without expression. “So you married me because you want to remain my mother’s pampered niece in this household rather than become my wife.”

I laughed awkwardly. Did he not know what he was like? Become his wife—did I look like an idiot?

I kept that part to myself. Aloud, I said, “Oh, Cousin, you’re a man of such magnificent bearing. How could a money-grubber like me be worthy of a distinguished third-place scholar like you? Don’t be ridiculous. Simply sharing a room with you feels sacrilegious! I’ll sleep in the study tonight.”

He looked ready to hit me, so I thought it best to run first.

Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.

The moment I stood, he seized my wrist and forced me back onto the couch. Leaning close, he overwhelmed me with the full impact of his dangerously beautiful face.

And somehow, all I could think was that if I opened a house of male entertainers and taught them to do what he had just done, I would make a fortune.

I wanted to slap myself. I was about to be beaten, and still my mind wandered.

I immediately begged for mercy and promised to request a divorce the next day.

Instead, he closed a hand around my throat and asked coldly, “Hmm, Cousin? Whatever made you think I was so easy to negotiate with?”

Before I could react, he said, “I admit your proposed arrangement has its attractions—but this is my bed.”

His breath brushed my ear as he murmured softly, “Cousin.”