Darkness.
That was all Lu Shaohua saw.
An endless void where no wind stirred, no stars shone, and no sound echoed back to her except the slow pounding of her own heart. It was not the first time she had been here. In fact, it felt like she had spent her whole life drifting in this abyss.
She sat with her knees pulled tight to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as though she could protect her body from the emptiness. Her lips trembled as she whispered into the dark.
"Why me?"
Her own voice returned to her, swallowed quickly by the void.
"Why was I born only to suffer? Why do I keep coming back here?"
Her eyes closed, but the memories came anyway.
She was the unwanted child, the daughter of a king who had never claimed her.
An illegitimate princess of the Shen Flame Kingdom, thrown into the palace not as a daughter but as a blemish. Her father's concubines looked at her with disdain, the other princesses mocked her with painted smiles, and the palace maids treated her worse than the dogs that roamed the outer courtyards.
She learned early that faces mattered. Her half-sisters were born with delicate features, flawless skin, eyes like gemstones polished to perfection.
She, however, had been cursed—or so they told her. A face plain at best, ugly at worst. Servants said the heavens had mocked her father by giving his illegitimate child a face unfit for nobility.
Everywhere she turned, she was reminded of her ugliness. Children laughed when she walked past. Women turned their heads as if the sight of her would rot their beauty. Men sneered, saying no one would ever want her.
Sometimes, they did worse than laugh.
She remembered the day her half-brother, drunk on wine and cruelty, shoved her into a pond, letting her choke on dirty water until her vision dimmed. She remembered the day a maid, frustrated after being scolded, pressed a pillow over her face while she slept. She remembered again and again—the stabbings, the poisonings, the cruel little deaths at the hands of people who considered her less than nothing.
Every time, she died. Every time, she awoke again in this abyss.
And every time, she asked herself: What is this place?
It wasn't death. Not truly. It was a prison of shadow, a cage of silence.
Each time she thought she had escaped the endless torture of life, this place dragged her back. Then came the pain—searing, crawling through her veins—until her eyes opened in the world again.
She wanted to die. More than anything, she wanted an end. But death refused her. Someone kept reviving her back to the real hell, the real world.
"I'm tired," she whispered to the dark. "So tired."
Years passed like that, a cycle of abuse, death, and revival.
Until one day, she thought perhaps her suffering had reached its end.
Her father, the king of Shen Flame, backed the wrong prince of the Empire in a succession war.
The victor, the new Emperor, stripped the kingdom of dignity and declared its line must pay.
To protect the legitimate daughter—the jewel of the royal family—they shoved Lu Shaohua forward. The unwanted child. The scapegoat.
She was sent away as a bride.
Her groom? The notorious young master of the Han Family.
A man known for debauchery, for lust and recklessness, hated even within his clan.
The whispers said he was given her as punishment, a way for Duke Han to shame his own son into obedience.
But to Lu Shaohua, that arrangement was fine. More than fine.
If she was with him, if he despised her, then perhaps she could fade away quietly. No more palace knives in the dark. No more constant humiliation. Just a quiet marriage where her suffering could finally end in peace.
But reality was cruel.
On their wedding night, he stormed away. She spent that night awake, her body shivering in her red dress, waiting for a blow that never came.
By morning, her concubines had surrounded her. They laughed at her face, spat on her name, poured tea on her head, pulled her hair until her scalp bled. They called her ugly, useless, cursed.
And as the hours dragged into two nights without sleep, she knew it had begun again.
The same cycle. The same torment. All because of her face.
Her husband's eyes—full of disgust—had confirmed it. She was nothing but punishment, both for herself and for him.
In the void now, she clutched herself tighter.
"I hoped to die here… but I'm back again."
Suddenly, cold clamps of darkness gripped her limbs. She gasped, her breath sharp.
"What now? Another torture? Another revival?"
Her voice shook, but then, from the dark, something moved.
A figure—a woman-shaped shadow. Its form was fluid, its presence oppressive, and its eyes glowed faintly red. Yet when it looked at her, warmth crept into her chest, confusing her.
She swallowed. "Are you here to torture me?"
The shadow shook its head slowly.
Her breath caught. "Then… will I die this time?"
To her shock, the shadow nodded.
Her heart trembled. "You'll be the one to do it?"
Again, the shadow nodded.
Her lips curved into something close to relief. For once, it didn't matter if it was terrifying. For once, maybe the suffering would end. She lifted a hand toward it.
"Then… do it."
The shadow moved closer, its steps slow and deliberate. But just as it reached her, its form twisted. A maw split open, lined with rows of jagged teeth. It lunged.
Her body stiffened with terror. But then she let her arms spread wide.
"Why should I resist? End it."
But before the teeth touched her, a burst of light split the void. A mature woman stepped between them, her body glowing with power.
"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY DAUGHTER!"
Her voice shook the abyss.
Lu Shaohua's eyes went wide. "Daughter…?"
The woman turned, her face both familiar and strange. Her eyes softened. "Sha'er. It's me. Lu Shangguan. Your mother."
"My… mother?" Her voice broke.
"Yes. Don't give up, my child. Please."
Tears filled Lu Shaohua's eyes. "Why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I let her take me? I've suffered enough!"
Her mother's voice rose like fire. "Because that shadow is the cause of your suffering! Every death, every revival, every ounce of pain—you think it was chance? No. It was her. If you let her win, your soul will never rest. Don't give her the satisfaction!"
"I…" Lu Shaohua's voice cracked. "I have so many questions."
"And I'll answer them," her mother promised, "but not now. Not while she's here. I'm already wounded fighting her. Please, help me hold her back. Don't let her claim you!"
The shadow roared, shaking the abyss.
Lu Shaohua clenched her fists. For once, she didn't want to bow her head. For once, she didn't want to accept. She stood beside her mother. Together, they pushed against the shadow's advance, fighting to keep it at bay.
But the shadow was overwhelming. Its darkness swallowed every spark of their resistance. Lu Shangguan staggered, her glow fading.
"No!" her mother cried. "Don't take my daughter! Take me instead!"
The shadow's maw widened. It lunged—
—and then, suddenly, green light burst forth.
A bright aura surged between them and the shadow, holding the darkness back. It flared brighter and brighter, pushing the creature with force that shook the abyss itself.
Lu Shaohua's eyes widened. In the heart of the green light, she saw a face.
A man.
Han Ji.
Her husband.
His face twisted with pain. Blood spilled from his lips each time the shadow struck against the aura. He endured every blow, his body trembling, his spirit screaming, yet he stood.
Her mother's eyes widened. "Who is that?"
Lu Shaohua's breath shook. "Han Ji. Young master of the Han Family."
"And who is he to you?"
Her throat tightened. He didn't know how to reply. "…My husband."
Her mother's shock was plain. "You're married? When?"
"Yesterday," Lu Shaohua whispered.
For a long moment, Lu Shangguan stared, and then, with tears in her eyes, she smiled.
"My daughter," she said softly. "You… have a good husband."
And as her voice faded, her figure dissolved into the light.
Slowly, the abyss began to crumble.