Can I get 100?

Dowry of the Homely Concubine, No Pop-Ups

When Yun Qixiao returned, his accomplishments earned him an elevation in rank, and the Son of Heaven granted him a marriage. With twofold joy coming at once to the Yun household, they seized the auspicious day and arranged the wedding of Yun Qixiao and Xiao Chenxue.

Inside the room, Liu Yun combed Yun Xueyan’s hair, stroke by careful stroke.

“Xueyan, when you see your second brother, give my congratulations in my stead.”

Cloudy with joy she tried to hide but could not; it was as if her own son were marrying.

Yun Xueyan nodded faintly, smiling.

Still, it was she who would attend the ceremony with Duan Nanyu, pretending that Yun Xiyin was pregnant so she could go as a substitute for Consort Xiao.

To stand in for someone—how cruelly ironic those two words were. She was, after all, only a secondary wife.

Her hands clenched tightly inside her sleeves. She could not bear to think whether that sister of hers was living well—whether, after ruining her child, her conscience could ever be at peace.

She had once hated her and wished she had made her taste the pain of losing a child. But she was still a girl in the end. She had no right to take a life away. If she had done that, what difference would there be between her and Duan Nanyu?

Looking into the mirror at her face, the scar half-hidden beneath her black hair, she whispered, “Mother, what exactly happened to my face?”

Liu Yun remained silent for a while, then only shook her head and kept looking at her daughter.

She truly did not know. No one had told her. When Yun Xueyan was brought back, her face had already been ruined, unrecognizable. She had even believed Yun Xueyan would not live.

But she had survived somehow. She never imagined she would have to bear even worse afterward.

“It’s over now, Mother. Even if she knew, my face will never be restored.”

She stood, dressed in a soft pink white-lotus gown. Since she was going to congratulate Yun Qixiao, she had made her attire more refined than usual and even put on jewelry she never wore before. At least she should not make Yun Quexiaoshi lose face.

“Xueyan...” Duan Nanyu tapped lightly on the wooden door from outside, yet did not enter.

He feared that stepping inside he would have to face her hateful eyes, eyes that could pierce him to the marrow.

“Mother, I’m going out with the prince. Please rest here.”

After saying it, Yun Xueyan adjusted her expression and forced a smile before she walked out.

To keep up this deceit, she still had to act affectionate and enamored with Duan Nanyu before her mother.

She found it laughable—such a cruelty inflicted by herself upon herself.

“Good fortune to you, my lord.”

She offered only a brief bow, and when she saw the astonishment in Duan Nanyu’s eyes she pulled back into composure, turned away from her mother, and kept that same distance in her gaze.

Duan Nanyu turned aside, avoiding the look that tormented him, and kept his voice as cold as he could. “Come. The carriage is waiting outside.”

A tearing sensation ripped through his chest. He had wanted, for a moment, to draw her into his arms, fingers stiff as though stuck upright. He gave up the thought; he had no confidence she would not recoil.

“Yes.”

Following closely behind, Yun Xueyan watched that cold, tightly bound figure. A sudden pain struck her chest. She too wanted to step forward, to wrap her arms around his waist, to call him husband in an intimate voice. She wanted a happy life, too.

“My lord…” Her voice caught; she did not know what to say next. She blinked, and the distance remained in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” Duan Nanyu froze, still with his back turned, and did not even look around. Thank him for what? For making room for Yun Qixiao?

He was wretchedly helpless. He moved forward again after a stalled step. He did not answer. What he longed for was not her thanks. He wanted one sentence from her: that she did not hate him.

Could he still have that?