You should just die. It would be better if we didn't have a daughter like you!

I have a biased mother who treats me harshly but is incredibly kind to my cousin. My cousin, arrogant and bold, angered the tyrannical regent, a man said to be ruthless and fond of tormenting women. To spite her, he demanded an imperial decree to take her as a concubine. Watching my cousin cry her heart out, my mother turned to me and said, "Annie, why don't you marry in place of Violet?"

But she doesn't know that I had a romantic encounter with someone last night and am no longer pure. Her plan for a substitute bride is doomed to fail...

——

The day I learned I had little time left, I had just come of age.

The doctor looked at me gravely. "It's in its terminal stage. Tuberculosis requires rest and cannot withstand strain. If properly nursed..."

I interrupted him with a faint smile. "Thank you, doctor. I understand."

Tuberculosis is a disease of the rich, needing care, rest, and precious medicines. Under such conditions, one might live a few more years.

But I had none of these.

I could only wait for death.

That evening, I returned home with my unfinished painting. As soon as I stepped in, I saw my mother standing in the hallway, her face filled with anger. "Kneel!" she commanded harshly.

Before I could react, the nanny behind me pressed down on my shoulders, forcing me heavily onto the ground. The rough stone made my knees ache, and they were probably bruised and swollen.

But this pain was nothing. I looked up at my mother as she strode over, snatching the painting from my hands.

When she saw that it was unfinished, her face turned even darker.

She pointed at my nose and scolded, "Where have you been? I asked your teacher, and she said you left early!

"You, a girl, stayed outside until it was dark before coming back! You didn't even finish the task given by your teacher!"

I looked up at her, about to explain when a sweet voice interjected. "Aunt Clara? Why are you so angry? Who upset you?"

My mother's stern face softened as she reached out to pat the newcomer's hand. "Violet, it's your inconsiderate cousin! She came back so late."

My cousin, Violet Noris, feigned surprise as she said, "Oh my, could she be lovesick?"

My mother's face darkened again. She cast a vicious glare at me and said, "She wouldn't dare! You are shameless! Kneel here tonight and reflect!"

Then she turned to my cousin and said, "Violet, you're always so obedient. I've spent so much money for her to learn painting, and what for!"

"Aunt Clara, don't be angry. Annie is still young and can be taught."

"I can't be bothered! You are so understanding. If only she were half as obedient as you..."

Their voices faded. As I watched their retreating figures, close as mother and daughter, the pain in my heart slowly disappeared.

I'd already known that my mother favored my cousin.

Sometimes I wondered if I was really her daughter. If not, why did we look so alike? But if I was, why was she so harsh and cruel to me?

She always said she'd done so much for me, that everything I had was because of her, that my life belonged to her, so she could scold and beat me at her will!

Fortunately, I would soon no longer owe her anything.

When my cousin Violet came to live with us, I was only thirteen. She wore tattered clothes and cried in my mother's arms.

I later learned she was my mother's older sister's daughter. My mother's sister had eloped with a poor scholar against the family's wishes, thinking she found true love. But he turned out to be a gambler and drunkard, who tried to pawn his wife when he had no money. My mother's sister narrowly escaped with her life and entrusted her daughter to my mother on her deathbed.

My mother, feeling sorry for Violet who had suffered a lot, treated her with great affection. Even my usually stern father told me, "Annie, Violet has had a hard life. You should be more considerate of her."

I nodded.

I was the only child and had always been lonely. I was happy when my cousin came.

But gradually, I realized my cousin wasn't as kind as I imagined.

In public, she always acted scared of me, timid and compliant, but in private, she would pinch me. If I fought back, she would cry and complain.

After many incidents like this, my mother believed I was secretly bullying her.

Once, she deliberately fell into the lake in front of me. When I tried to save her, my mother rushed over and slapped me hard!

My face was turned sideways from the blow. My ears were ringing, and I experienced a moment of deafness.

It hurt so much.

I looked at my mother in disbelief as she held the soaked Violet, pointing at me and cursing, "Annie Parrish, how can you be so wicked at such a young age! She's your cousin! You tried to drown her out of jealousy!"

She left with Violet without hesitation. I looked up and saw Violet smirking at me from my mother's arms.

Later, rumors spread that I was jealous and wicked. Neither my father nor mother stopped it. They just scolded me, saying I deserved it, and let me be isolated.

Unnoticed, a light rain began to fall as I knelt on the stone path. I heard soft footsteps and turned to see my father returning.

Seeing me kneeling, he frowned and said, "Upset your mother again? Why can't you be as obedient as Violet?"

I stayed silent. In his eyes, Violet was obedient and gentle, while I was jealous and unruly.

The more I explained, the more he thought I was making excuses and challenging his authority, and the punishment would be harsher. After experiencing it multiple times, I learned to endure silently.

Disappointed in me for not living up to his expectations, he summoned the butler and said, "Watch her. She's cunning! Don't let her up until she's knelt for two hours."

The butler hesitated. "Sir, it's about to rain..."

Father waved dismissively. "A little rain won't kill her! Sometimes I wish she wasn't my daughter!"

I smiled. The little rain will hasten the death of a tuberculosis patient like me.

But the good news for them was that I, the disobedient daughter, would die soon, so they wouldn't be upset by me anymore.

After the heavy rain, I developed a mild fever, just as I had predicted.

The room was filled with the bitter smell of medicine.

I lay in bed coughing lightly. When my mother came to see me and found me pale and weak, she frowned and said, "Why is your health so frail? Just a bit of rain and you get a fever? If it were Violet, she wouldn't be like this…"

I pursed my lips and stayed silent. Maybe because I looked too pitiful, my mother's expression softened slightly. She said, "If you were more obedient, things wouldn't have turned out this way."

I couldn't help but ask, "What do you mean by being more obedient?"

She answered without hesitation, "To be like Violet."

I fell silent. My mother had often lamented more than once that it would be wonderful if Violet were her biological daughter.

I fell silent. My mother had often lamented that it would be wonderful if Violet were her biological daughter. Thinking of this, I couldn't help but smirk. Oh well, now they are like a real family. Without me being a nuisance, they would probably be even closer.

My mother touched my forehead and, for once, said with concern, "It's still a little hot. You..."

"Aunt Clara? I heard Annie is ill?" Violet's clear voice rang out.

My mother immediately withdrew her hand and rushed out anxiously. "Hey, why did you come here? This place is full of bacteria. You might be infected."

I looked up and saw my mother holding Violet's hand outside. Her face was filled with a concern I had never seen before. Violet held her arm intimately, whispering something that eventually made her laugh. Without looking back, my mother left my room.

Pain gripped my heart as if a dull knife were tearing at my insides. I couldn't help but press my head against my chest and gasp for air.

But the dreadful suffocation didn't ease. Instead, my throat grew dry and painful, my coughing louder and more violent. The white handkerchief I held tightly in my hand couldn't suppress my coughs or stop me from feeling overwhelmed by despair. After a while, I stared at the bright red bloodstain on the handkerchief, dazed.

At that moment, I was acutely aware that I was going to die.

I silently hid the handkerchief under my pillow and thought, if my parents punish me again, I'll just cough up blood on them and make a scene.

What their reactions would be then? Would they regret, worry, or find me disgusting and unlucky?

They would probably find me disgusting and unlucky.

But soon, I couldn't concern myself with these thoughts anymore.

Violet had caused significant trouble.