For three days, Melissa drifted in a feverish haze.

Through the fog, her mother’s final sigh echoed in her ears, and Paul’s resolute back—walking away with Janet in his arms—replayed behind her eyelids.

On the fourth morning, she forced her eyes open. Paul was there, seated vigil at her bedside, his face etched with worry.

Seeing her awake, he spoke, his voice rough. “Your mother has been laid to rest with dignity. The fault was mine. Your father has been… magnanimous. He has agreed to let the matter drop.”

A knife twisted in Melissa’s heart.

Her mother’s family had long fallen into decline. Though the lawful wife, she had been cast aside in favor of a concubine, surviving only because of the ‘son’ Melissa pretended to be.

Now, with her mother gone, her father could elevate that woman without delay. This so-called magnanimity had surely been purchased with Paul’s money and influence.

Silent, she watched as Paul took the medicine bowl himself. He blew gently on each spoonful before bringing it to her lips.

Melissa opened her mouth woodenly and swallowed. The brew was bitterly potent, scraping her throat and forcing tears to her eyes.

“I know you hate the taste. I had some sweet soup prepared for you.” Paul opened the door. There stood Janet, head bowed, obediently offering a steaming bowl.

Melissa glared at her with pure venom. “Get out!”

Paul’s voice softened to a coaxing murmur. “Janet has been unwell herself, yet she still made this almond soup for you. Be good and drink a little, hmm?”

Melissa turned her face away, her expression hardening.

Paul frowned. “Melissa, your mother struck her head on that pillar. Her death was… an accident, a twist of fate. Janet lost her mother too, yet she cooked for you while ill. Won’t you take even a single taste?”

When she resisted, his grip tightened on her chin. He forced her mouth open and poured the soup down her throat.

Melissa gagged, vomiting up the liquid along with the medicine she’d just taken.

“If it’s sweet soup,” she rasped, “why is it bitter?”

Tears sprang to Janet’s eyes. She snatched the bowl back and drank what remained.

“I’ve been helping my mother make sweet soup since I was three. Do I not know sweet from bitter? Why must you always persecute me, Young Master Melissa? Are we common folk just meant to endure your bullying?”

She turned to Paul, her voice catching. “Taste it, Young Marquis. You tell us—is it sweet or bitter?”

Then she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

Caught off guard, Paul moved to push her away, but his hands found her waist instead—sliding upward almost of their own accord. Just before they brushed her chest, he jolted back to himself and shoved her away violently.

“What disgraceful behavior!” he barked, though the tips of his ears flushed red. “You are an unmarried maiden. I will not speak of this, for your reputation’s sake, but you must never do such a thing again.”

Janet hung her head, sobbing. “I was just so wronged, I lost my composure. Thank you, Young Marquis, for your kindness in thinking of me.”

Fury made Melissa’s head swim. She grabbed the sweet soup bowl and hurled it to the floor. “Get out! Both of you, get out now!”

Porcelain shards flew. One grazed Janet’s cheek. She whimpered and dropped to her knees.

The sound brought the Academy Master, who was passing by. He pushed the door open, eyes widening at the sight of Janet kneeling on the floor.

“Miss Janet,” he asked in surprise, “what happened to your face?”

Through tears, Janet poured out her grievances. “Young Master Melissa said the sweet soup I made was bitter. When the Young Marquis spoke a few words in my defense, he threw the bowl at me. I truly don’t understand. If Young Master Melissa is a man, why does he always act so… jealous? Could it be the Young Marquis has a penchant for men? Is that why Young Master Melissa…”

The Academy Master’s face darkened with anger as he glared at the two of them.

Rumors in the town don’t spring from nothing. If this were true… this Melissa could not be allowed to stay.

Furious and desperate, Melissa opened her mouth to declare she was a woman.

But Paul stepped in front of her, addressing the Academy Master with deference. “Sir, I treat Melissa as a younger brother. There is no such… unnatural inclination between us.”

Hearing this, Melissa felt all strength drain from her body. She slumped back, utterly defeated.

The Academy Master’s expression eased slightly. He gave a cold snort. “The Imperial Examinations are approaching. Mind your conduct!” With that, he turned and left.

Paul hurried after him to see him out.

The room held only the two of them now.

Instantly, Janet’s tears vanished. She leaned close to Melissa’s ear, her voice a soft, venomous whisper.

“I’ve known you were a girl for a long time.”

Melissa’s body went rigid.

A faint smile touched Janet’s lips. “He waited by my stall for sweet soup every day. And while he waited, all he talked about was you. Your brilliant literary talent, rivaling even Brian’s. Your little tempers—he loved that liveliness in you most. Your fastidiousness, how no one but him was allowed to sit on your bed…”

“His utter devotion… it stirred something in me too. I thought perhaps I could be his concubine. But the moment I saw you—” Her voice dropped lower. “I just wanted you dead. Otherwise, he would never love me in this lifetime.”

Blind rage surged. Melissa’s hand shot out, striking Janet hard across the face.

Janet clutched her cheek, stumbling backward before falling deliberately onto the bed of broken porcelain.

Paul walked back in just then. He saw Janet lying amidst the shards, her plain dress stained with spreading crimson.

Pain flashed in his eyes. He rushed forward and gathered her up.

“It seems those twenty lashes taught you nothing about restraint.” His voice was cold. “I’ve spoiled you. Today, you will learn some discipline.”

He grabbed Melissa, dragged her from the bed, and forced her to her knees on the sharp, glittering fragments.

Melissa looked up, meeting Paul’s icy gaze. A low, quiet laugh escaped her.

So this was how it felt when a heart died. You couldn’t feel the pain anymore.

Melissa knelt among the shattered porcelain. A shard drove deep into the old scar on her knee, and the sudden, sharp pain brought the memory rushing back—exactly how she had gotten that scar.

When she was ten, Robert, the son of the Minister of Works, had challenged her to a wooden sword match.

Driven back under his assault, she retreated while the other children mocked her as a coward.

Countless little wooden swords jabbed and prodded at her, all surrounded by jeering laughter.

Only young Paul stood outside the circle, frowning, his fists clenched tight.

Then Robert somehow produced a real sword and thrust it toward her.

Though Paul blocked the worst of it, the blade still slashed her knee open, tearing flesh, drawing blood.

Her cry of pain only brought more taunts—that her tears proved she was no true boy, that she had no backbone.

Paul snatched the real sword from Robert’s hand and swung it wildly, his frenzied rage scattering everyone.

He carefully bandaged her wound and promised, “I’ll always protect you. I’ll never let you get hurt again.”

He’d promised a lifetime. So where was that lifetime now?

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up and saw Paul meticulously applying medicine to a cut on Janet’s face.

His gaze was so tender, as if she were a priceless treasure.

And Janet, eyes rimmed red, whimpered that it hurt, like a seductive little fox.

He couldn’t help leaning closer, gently blowing on the wound. “There, it’ll be fine soon.”

A bitter ache twisted in Melissa’s chest. She couldn’t hold back a choked whisper. “Must you tend to her right here in front of me?”

Paul turned. Seeing the blood spreading beneath her knee, a flicker of panic crossed his eyes.

Was he being too cruel?

Regret surged. He reached out to help her up, but Melissa violently jerked her arm away.

Her hand brushed against the jade pendant at his waist. It flew off, struck the floor with a crisp crack, and shattered.

That pendant had been a gift from the Old Marquis at his birth. He’d worn it close since childhood, never once taking it off.

He stood frozen, unable to process what had happened.

Melissa panicked. “I’m sorry, I—”

The veins on Paul’s clenched fists stood out. “There are limits to your willfulness.”

Janet hurried to gather the broken pieces. “My lord, there’s a master craftsman in the southern district renowned for restoration. I can help you—”

His voice was cold and sharp as splintering ice. “Don’t bother.”

He helped Janet to her feet and headed for the door. Pausing, he glanced back at Melissa. “A shattered jade cannot be made whole again. Neither can a heart. Do not disappoint me further.”

The door closed. Melissa collapsed to the floor, only struggling to her feet after what felt like an age.

She went to the shelf for the wound salve, but from behind the wall, Janet’s coquettish voice came through with startling clarity:

“That thunder outside is so frightening… I’m so scared…”

Melissa moved to the wall and discovered a small hole had been drilled through it at some point.

This used to be Brian’s room. He must have tampered with it—no wonder he’d seen through her disguise.

Her face paled. She was about to find something to block the hole when, peering through, she saw Paul gently patting Janet’s back in comfort.

Janet took the chance to lean into his embrace, her hands wandering restlessly over his chest.

“Janet, why do you smell so fragrant?” Paul tried to push her away, but for some reason, his arms tightened around her instead.

“I’ve been infusing syrups with blossoms and crafting sweetmeats since I was a girl, tasting every batch myself. The scent is just the beginning—my very tongue is sweet…”

Paul’s body went rigid. He suddenly remembered the lingering, refreshing sweetness on his tongue from when she had forced a kiss on him earlier.

Instantly, an uncontrollable impulse surged.

“My lord, I adore you… I just couldn’t help myself…” Janet kissed him again.

After a brief struggle, he took over, pinning her firmly into the bedding.

The sounds of their ragged breathing and shifting bodies filtered through the hole. Melissa felt as if a gaping tear had been ripped through her heart. She bit down hard on her lower lip until the taste of blood flooded her mouth.

She didn’t know how much time passed before the storm subsided.

Paul’s voice was terrifyingly calm. “I have someone I love. I won’t marry you. But if it’s wealth you seek, I can provide that.”

“I only ask,” Janet answered obediently, “that once you’ve taken your rightful place among the gentry, you help me reopen my sweet shop. I wish to make sweets for young master Melissa for the rest of my life.”

A look of satisfaction flashed in Paul’s eyes, his voice growing husky. “You are being remarkably compliant. I’ll reward you once more.”

Melissa wiped her tears, gathered the broken jade pieces from the floor, and braced herself against the biting wind, limping toward the southern district.

In the jade workshop, the old craftsman took pity and handed her a cup of hot tea. After she warmed up, he shook his head over the fragments.

“Young master, this jade is shattered beyond repair. Even with gold inlay, the cracks will remain forever.”

Melissa nodded with a bitter smile. “It’s fine. Just do your best.”

As she watched the molten gold slowly seep into the fractures, she suddenly remembered the look on Paul’s face when he’d said, “A shattered jade cannot be made whole again.”

The promise of their youth had long since frayed. The vow sworn when he discovered her secret had been undone by a mere taste of honeyed lips.

From the moment he decided to bring Janet back, what was between them had already shattered beyond repair.

She finished her tea. The old craftsman handed her the restored pendant.

She thanked him and was about to pay when a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Looking up again, the craftsman’s kind face twisted into a sinister grin, his eyes fixed intently on her.

Realization dawned—she tried to run, but her legs refused to move.