Chapter 1

Chapter 1

On the eve of my wedding, a coffin was carried into the Minister’s Mansion. The woman inside looked exactly like me. My stepmother wept, claiming she was the true legitimate daughter of the Huo Family and that I was merely a fake who had usurped her identity for eighteen years. Everyone waited to see me fall from the heights of the wedding hall into the mud, but only I knew that before that corpse died, she had desperately left a message for me.

On the eve of my wedding, four pallbearers burst into my bridal chamber.

When that black wooden coffin came to a rest in the center of the courtyard, I hadn’t even removed the phoenix crown from my head. The red silk decorating the courtyard whipped in the night wind, sounding like an ill-timed funeral.

My stepmother, Luo Yingxue, threw herself against the coffin, weeping so hard she could barely stand.

“My Lord, Yue’er is back… our Yue’er has come home…”

Standing under the veranda, my heart skipped a beat.

Who was Yue’er?

In the next instant, the coffin lid was pried open. I took one look, and a chill ran down my spine.

A young woman lay inside, dressed in plain white inner robes. Her face was pale and ashen, with a cinnabar mole at the corner of her eye. The bridge of her nose, the shape of her lips, the contours of her eyes-she was a ninety-nine percent match for me.

She looked so much like me that for a moment, I thought I was looking down at my own corpse.

The courtyard fell into a deathly silence.

Even my father, Huo Yanzhi, who had always doted on me the most, turned pale and took a half-step back.

Luo Yingxue wept as she grabbed the hem of my skirt. “Lingning, give Yue’er’s identity back to her! If I hadn’t been soft-hearted back then and brought you back to the mansion to be raised, how could you have enjoyed such a life of wealth and status?”

Her words were like a thunderclap, causing all the servants in the courtyard to lower their heads in unison.

I stared at her. “Mother, what exactly are you trying to do, bringing a coffin into my courtyard in the middle of the night?”

“What am I doing?” She looked up sharply, her eyes shimmering with tears, but her tone was biting. “I want everyone to see that the true legitimate daughter of the Huo Family died at the manor. What face does the person who impersonated her for eighteen years have to step into the bridal sedan tomorrow!”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Tomorrow was the day of my grand wedding to Shen Xingjian, the Heir of the Marquis of Zhenbei.

The Huo Family had enjoyed unparalleled prestige in the capital over the years thanks to this match. If I wasn’t the legitimate daughter of the Huo Family, this marriage, the dowry my mother left behind, and even the courtyard I lived in would become a joke overnight.

Huo Yanzhi finally spoke, his voice heavy. “Stop arguing.”

He looked at the woman in the coffin, his expression dark and unreadable. “Carry the coffin to the side hall first. This matter must not be leaked.”

“Leaked?” Luo Yingxue’s crying intensified. “My Lord, Yue’er is dead. Do you want her to go to her grave without even being recognized by her ancestors? The Longevity Lock on her hand, the birth record on her person-which of them doesn’t match? Back then, the Madam gave birth to twin girls. Yue’er, who should have been raised in the mansion, was sent away. The one who returned alive is the one who took Yue’er’s place!”

“Enough,” I interrupted coldly. “You say I’m a replacement. Where’s the proof?”

Luo Yingxue seemed prepared. She pulled an old sachet from her sleeve and shook out a jade lock.

I had seen that jade lock before.

I had worn half of one since childhood. The half in her hand fit mine perfectly.

“This was on Yue’er’s person,” Luo Yingxue said with reddened eyes. “You have the other half, don’t you?”

The gaze of everyone in the courtyard fell upon my neck.

I touched the half-lock through my collar, feeling for the first time that the object was terrifyingly hot.

Just then, a deep, cold male voice drifted in from outside the courtyard gate.

“Lord Huo, I was the one who had this coffin sent back.”

I looked up and saw Shen Xingjian standing in the night. He wore a black outer robe embroidered with cranes, his shoulders damp with cold dew. His expression was colder than the moonlight.

His gaze fell upon the woman’s face in the coffin, and his eyes darkened by a fraction.

“However, this matter,” he said slowly, “is likely not as simple as reclaiming a daughter.”

I followed his line of sight and realized the corpse’s right hand was tucked against her side, her fingers seemingly clutching something.

I took a step forward and, before anyone could react, pried open the cold, stiff hand.

Inside her palm, she was deathly clutching a scrap of red paper soaked in blood.

Only one word remained on the paper.

“Ning.”