Chinese Novel Review 1

The silken curtains of the bedchamber swayed gently with a faint breeze, stirring the faint scent of dried herbs. Sang Wan lay still, her eyes fixed on the intricate patterns of the canopy above. The chill in the air was familiar, a stark reminder of the cold indifference that had once defined her life in this very room.

This time, however, was different. The weight of foreknowledge, a peculiar gift from a life already lived and lost, pressed upon her. She knew the path that lay ahead, the betrayals and the quiet heartbreaks. Her marriage to Shi Fengju, a man she was destined to despise yet yearn for, was still fresh, barely a month old.

Tomorrow, she knew, was the day. The day his cousin, with her innocent facade and venomous heart, would make her presence felt, initiating the long, painful decline of Sang Wan's first life. But not this time. A flicker of resolve, cold and sharp, ignited in Sang Wan’s eyes. She would not be the abandoned wife again. Not anymore.