Redemption Of the Unfaithful Wife

Shun WenCheng paused as he picked up the cup, then tilted his head upwards as if to look at his husband, with whom he had not shared tea in a very long time. He had been beyond excited when he first suggested having tea together, and even now, his heart was light.

"Is something the matter?" Song Zixin smiled, looking at his husband holding the cup.

"No, I just think the tea's fragrance is quite lovely, isn't it?" he said with a gentle smile.

"Yes, it is quite lovely. I added a little something to it to make it richer," Song Zixin smirked.

Shun WenCheng said nothing more. Without a moment's hesitation, he drank the tea in one gulp. Song Zixin grinned widely, uncaring, since there was no need to hide his expression anymore.

Shun WenCheng put down the tea.

"The tea was great. I'm glad I shared this with you," he said.

"I'm very glad as well."

Shun WenCheng soon stood up as Song Zixin watched him.

"Where are you going?" he asked sharply.

Shun WenCheng kept his smile and replied gently, "I'm not feeling well. I don't want you to see me in an unsightly manner; it would be displeasing to the eyes."

"And how would you know that?" Song Zixin asked rudely.

Still, Shun WenCheng's smile didn't falter in the least. He merely nodded and went on his way.

"The 15th prince is dead. He has been poisoned."

Song Zixin felt no remorse for the death of his husband. After all, they weren't true family—his father was his family, and there was no need to care about someone like him.

"I beg your forgiveness, Your Imperial Majesty, but it was him! That vicious wretch!" Marquis Song yelled, dropping to his knees.

"W-what? Father, you tol—"

"Shut up!" The emperor kicked him angrily.

"My brother... what did my brother ever do to you for him to die like that?"

"I—I, Father!" Song Zixin yelled.

But the marquis didn't bother to spare him a second glance.

"Sisters! Brothers!"

Song Zixin felt utterly betrayed. He then looked up at the man towering over him with hateful eyes.

"Y-Your Imperial Majesty!"

"I'll kill you. I'll make sure you suffer tenfold. I'll avenge my brother, you hateful bitch."

The emperor was consumed by grief. His brother had truly loved this wretch, only to die a slow, agonizing death with his internal organs melting from poison, all for the sake of sharing tea with him.

The emperor kicked Song Zixin in the face, causing the mask covering half of his features to fall away. For a fleeting moment, everyone was stunned—even the emperor himself.

Recovering his senses instantly, the emperor's hatred burned far brighter than any fascination with a face.

"Drag him out. Have him tortured, then turned into a slave. Make him beg for death," he ordered.

If his brother were here, he would have strongly objected and perhaps even fought back. But he wasn't here, and the emperor could finally make the wretch suffer for all the pain he put his brother through. He knew this plot was orchestrated by the marquis and would deal with them later, but the vast majority of his fury was aimed directly at Song Zixin.

Still stunned by the betrayal, Song Zixin was dragged down to the dungeons, where he was tortured and violated daily by men and women alike. He had never even crossed that intimate boundary with Shun WenCheng, yet now his body was nothing more than an instrument of pain.

He had once been treated with utmost tenderness and care; now, he was treated no better than an inanimate object.

Once accustomed to lavish meals and delicacies, he now barely received scraps, often forced to catch rats and eat them raw just to quiet his hunger.

Fine silks and expensive jewelry had kept him warm in winter and cool in summer. Now, he wore tattered rags that offered no defense against the winter chill, leaving him plagued by frostbite, while summer's sweat festered and stung his delicate skin.

Song Zixin finally realized what he had lost—and that he had brought it all upon himself. He cursed the marquis and his family, swearing that if he were granted another life, he would have his revenge.

A single teardrop slipped from his eye as he thought of Shun WenCheng, wishing desperately that he could go back and do right by him.