Transmigrated into the body of the vicious first wife of a fallen prime minister

The next morning, when Qi He woke up, the dressing room, which had been empty the night before, was now filled with her usual clothes, and the items in the clean room had been replaced with brand new ones, even the salt had been prepared and placed on the side of the porcelain cup.

On the table in the hall was the breakfast that Qi Zheng had prepared, as if it were timed precisely when she got up. The porridge was still steaming, and the steamed cakes on the plate were also warm.

Qi He took a sip of the hot porridge, and her stomach warmed up, and her eyes also welled up with tears.

As expected, her eldest brother treats her the best.

After finishing breakfast, she was still angry and didn't want to go back to face Shang Jue at all.

She opened the invitation sent by the martial arts school, but the school was not yet fully renovated, so she closed it again.

She couldn't confide her troubles to Hu Ying, so she dressed up and spent half the day reading leisurely on the couch.

At noon, a maid brought lunch, but Qi He didn't have much of an appetite and only ate a couple of bites before putting the rest down.

Just past noon, the sun in Jinling began to set. She took a short nap, but was awakened by the cold wind. When she opened her eyes, she realized that she had forgotten to close the window before going to sleep.

The water clock beside the couch had already pointed to the Shen hour (3-5 PM). Winter days are short, and the sky was already getting dark.

She got up to close the window, and as soon as her hand touched the windowsill, her gaze was drawn to something, and she involuntarily looked downstairs.

Beside the old locust tree outside the courtyard, there was an inconspicuous blue-curtained carriage, and leaning against it was a handsome man, none other than Shang Jue.

Qi He's face darkened, and Shang Jue seemed to notice her gaze as well, looking up at her.

Without even thinking, Qi He slammed the window shut.

She doesn't want to see Shang Jue at all right now.

My peaceful mood, which had lasted all day, was suddenly thrown into chaos, and I couldn't even concentrate on reading.

After a while, a light, cold rain began to fall outside the window, the fine raindrops pattering on the eaves.

Qi He muttered to herself, "Did that bastard even bring an umbrella?"

On second thought, even if she didn't bring an umbrella, she could still hide in the car; why was she worrying about it?

But she was still feeling uneasy. One moment she wondered if he had come to see her, and the next she was annoyed by his hypocrisy.

Sure enough, not a single word the man spoke was true.

She sat there restlessly for about the time it takes to brew a cup of tea when suddenly there was a noise outside the door.

Without thinking, Qi He got up to open the door, only to find Qi Zheng standing there.

Seeing her expression, Qi Zheng raised an eyebrow and said, "What's wrong? Surprised to see it's your brother?"

Qi He looked away: "Why are you back so early today, brother?"

Qi Zheng waved the dried fruit in his hand: "I was worried that Xiao He would be hungry, so I came back early to cook. Is the lunch you were used to?"

Qi He was too embarrassed to admit that she had only eaten a few bites, so she nodded vaguely.

After dinner, the rain outside seemed to have lessened a bit, and Qi He ate absentmindedly, her eyes constantly glancing towards the window.

When Qi Zheng spoke to her, she responded only half-heartedly.

Eventually, she couldn't resist and went to the window again, lifting a corner of the curtain to look out. The green-curtained carriage was still parked under the old locust tree, exactly where it had been before.

Shang Jue was still there, standing there for who knows how long, without going into the car to take shelter from the rain, like a stone statue, as if frozen in place.

Qi He paused for a moment, then expressionlessly pulled the curtain closed.

It wasn't her who told him to stand there, so why was she using this self-inflicted injury tactic?

She went into the bathroom without looking back, washed up, and lay down on the couch, tossing and turning as she tried to fall asleep, but unfortunately, she had some insomnia that night.

The cold rain outside the window has intensified again. It snowed in Nanjing a few days ago, and the snow in many places has not yet melted. The rain makes it bitterly cold.

The room was warm and cozy with the underfloor heating on. Qi He wrapped herself tightly in the blanket, forcing herself not to think about the person downstairs.

He can't possibly stand there all night, can he?

She turned over, but it felt like a water clock was ticking in her mind.

About fifteen minutes later, she finally couldn't stand it anymore. She sat up abruptly, lifted a corner of the curtain, and peeked downstairs. Shang Jue was still there.

It was almost midnight, and he was still standing there.

Qi He took out a blank letter from beside her pillow, wrote a few words, crumpled it up, thought for a moment, then took out the letters that Shang Jue had sent earlier from the box, picked out the last one, wrote a couple of sentences, and then had a servant hand it over.

She regretted it as soon as she handed it over, but the letter had already been delivered to the door.

A moment later, someone knocked on the door, bringing Shang Jue's reply—just a thin piece of paper with the words, "But what did I do wrong?"

Qi He unfolded the letter, paused for a moment, and it seemed the other person hadn't expected her to reply either. After a pause, they sent over a note: "Qi He, are you resting?"

When will you be home?

Qi He did not reply.

Another letter arrived—"What's wrong?"

It would have been better if she hadn't asked. Once she did, a fire ignited in Qi He's heart. She crumpled the notes into a ball and never replied.

She didn't know when Shang Jue left, and when she looked downstairs again early the next morning, the carriage was gone.

She barely ate anything last night, so she was especially hungry this morning and drank an extra bowl of porridge.

After dinner, she thought she would take a walk in the garden to digest her food. In two or three days it would be New Year's Eve. It had rained last night, and the garden was particularly quiet, but the atmosphere of the New Year was already strong. Red silk was hung under the eaves, and the character "福" (fortune) was pasted on the lintel. Strings of small lanterns hung from the branches, looking very festive.

The green plants, washed by the rain, were lush and vibrant, and Qi He felt a little more relaxed looking at them.

She circled around twice and then turned back. As soon as she reached the courtyard gate, she saw that the blue-curtained carriage from yesterday had been replaced by a black-awning oil cart, and a person was standing next to the cart, none other than Shang Jue.

He turned around when he heard the noise, and his gaze fell on her face.

Qi He slowed her pace, but only glanced at him before looking away, treating him as if he were invisible.

Shang Jue could tolerate her various tantrums, but he couldn't stand her treating him like he didn't exist.

Just as Qi He brushed past him, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

Qi He turned around and glared at him, then heard Shang Jue say in a low voice, "Qi He, let's talk."

"I have nothing to say to you," Qi He said coldly.

"At least tell me what you're upset about."

He looked away.

Seeing that she was unwilling to answer, Shang Jue changed the subject: "Have you eaten?"

"Don't worry, my older brother won't let me go hungry."

Another silence fell. Shang Jue closed his eyes wearily. "Qi He, you have to tell me what I did wrong this time. You can't just get angry at me for no reason every time and then make me guess. I can't always guess right."

This sentence completely ignited Qi He's anger.

She stared at him in disbelief, the careless shell she had built yesterday shattered completely, her voice trembling: "For no reason at all?"

Shang Jue hadn't expected her to react so strongly; his eyes even reddened.

This was the first time he had seen Qi He like this.

Qi He shook off his hand: "Yes, I just threw a tantrum for no reason. I have nothing to say to you, Shang Jue. Let's get a divorce."

This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision; she tossed and turned in bed for two nights thinking about it, concluding that divorce would be better for both of them.

Shang Jue came to take her back, never expecting to hear the words "divorce".

Qi He had used those two words before, but back then he thought they were just said in anger, letting them go in one ear and out the other, never taking them seriously.

But today, those two words felt like a steel needle piercing his heart, making him feel as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

Shang Jue never considered divorce.

Shang Jue's tone suddenly turned cold: "What do you mean?"

"It means exactly what it says." Qi He tried her best to keep her voice calm. "Neither of us wanted to get married. I know you look down on this marriage, but you only agreed because of my grandfather's kindness. You know what kind of person I am. I have a bad temper, but you don't need to guess why I get angry every time."

But she couldn't calm down after all, and she raised her voice for the last few sentences.

Divorce is necessary.

Last night, she suddenly figured out a brilliant solution.

It wouldn't be difficult to get Shang Jue to leave the Qi family; a divorce would be fine.

When he returned to the capital, she stayed in Jinling. There was no place for him to control her, no matter how far away he was.

The matter of fleeing cannot be delayed even for a day; it must be put on the agenda immediately.

Once this thought popped into her head, the heavy weight that had been pressing on her heart for so long seemed to lift instantly, and even the annoyance she had felt these past few days lessened.

She was thinking that Shang Jue should go back and think about it, so she went upstairs to take a nap and waited for him to make a decision before signing the documents.

She had only taken two steps when Shang Jue grabbed her wrist again, and then suddenly she was lifted up by his waist.

Before she could even speak, she was shoved into the black-awning oil carriage. Shang Jue's face was frighteningly dark. He deftly pulled down the curtain for her, climbed into the carriage himself, and whipped the horse to leave.

The carriage sped out of the mansion in the east of the city, without stopping.

It wasn't until Shang Jue dragged Qi He out of the car and into the main hall of Qianjin Tower that she came to her senses: "Shang Jue! What's wrong with you!"

What does Shang Jue want to do?

Could it be that they're going to kill him to silence him?

Qi He was so startled by her own thought that she froze and struggled to shake off his hand.

Unexpectedly, Shang Jue picked her up horizontally and carried her away. She couldn't break free and was laid down on the soft couch in the inner room before she could even catch her breath.

Qi He felt dizzy and lightheaded, and angrily propped herself up: "Shang Jue, if you're not thinking straight, go see a doctor! What are you doing here causing trouble! Are you—"

Before he could finish the second half of his sentence, the bed sank slightly.

Shang Jue had already gotten onto the bed at some point and pulled her tightly into his arms.

Qi He's voice stopped abruptly. It was less like she was being held and more like she was being strangled so tightly that she could hardly breathe.

She heard Shang Jue's muffled voice coming from above her, tinged with a low, ruthless edge: "Qi He, I will not divorce you, don't even dream about it..."

Qi He was so angry at his words that she almost fainted. She tried to push him away, but her hand accidentally hit Shang Jue's cheek. She then realized that his cheek was burning hot, his lips were as pale as paper, his forehead was covered with a layer of sweat, and his breathing was not as steady as usual.

She reached out and touched his forehead; it was frighteningly hot.

He has a fever.

Qi He's struggling movements suddenly stopped.

She still had one hand on Shang Jue's chest, the heart beneath her palm pounding fast and hard, its burning heat seeping through her clothes, making her fingertips curl slightly. She opened her mouth, wanting to scold him, but when her gaze fell on the dark circles under his eyes, she swallowed the words back.

I don't know how long he stood there or how long he was soaked in the rain before he got burned like this.