The woman in the mirror had become utterly emaciated. Her cheeks were deeply sunken, making her eyes bulge out like a frog’s eyeballs.
The hair on the woman’s head was sparse and straggly, faded to a dull yellow. Her matching eyebrows had been over-plucked into thin, sharp lines that slanted upward. Her thin, pigment-poor lips had a sharp peak, and even when curved into a smile, they revealed a bone-deep sharpness and malice.
Ye Tang let out a long sigh. This was her current appearance.
One only needed to glance at the wedding portrait hanging in the center of the bedroom to know that the original Anna Rochel had not looked so terrifying. In her prime, she had brimmed with charming smiles at the corners of her eyes and brows, sitting beside her husband like a delicate bird dependent on a branch.
The marriage had soured too quickly, like leftovers from dinner left out in the summer heat without refrigeration. No matter how delicious the meal was straight from the pot, by the next day it was rotten, stinking, and spoiled.
Anna Rochel had refused to face reality. Even knowing her marriage was a bucket of swill, she kept laying lace tablecloths on the dining table of her life, setting out expensive china, piling it high with fresh flowers for decoration, and inviting outsiders to admire her “full and happy” existence.
Until her husband overturned that facade of a grand table for the sake of Cinderella, his illegitimate child.
Ye Tang disliked deceiving herself. She wanted to cut ties immediately with Anna Rochel’s husband, that filthy thing Hans Hedelin.
Unfortunately, the contemporary laws of this country were not favorable to her.
The law stipulated that a husband could divorce his wife and leave her penniless simply by providing evidence of her infidelity. A wife, however, needed to prove her husband guilty not only of infidelity but also of other misdeeds—such as theft, violence, alcoholism, gambling debts, smuggling, draft dodging, arson, murder, and the like—before she could possibly divorce him.
How much property a divorcing wife received depended entirely on the severity of her husband’s misdeeds. If they were not severe enough, she might walk away with nothing.
Beyond that, the law forbade divorce for any couple. Even mutual consent was not allowed. This led both commoners and nobles to joke behind closed doors that divorce was such a hassle it was better to become a widow or widower.
Simply killing Hans was not a viable option, so Ye Tang could only pinch her nose and continue playing “Mrs. Hedelin” for a while longer.
“Mother.”
Someone knocked at the door, and Ye Tang recognized the voice of her eldest daughter, Claudia.
“Come in.”
Ye Tang turned around. Claudia and Gloria, who entered, both froze for a moment. They had expected to see a haggard and sorrowful mother.
Mother had rested for five days, and her condition had only just begun to improve. Yesterday, she had finally received the doctor’s approval to get out of bed today, though her illness had not fully healed, and she still needed plenty of rest without overexerting herself.
The two had never imagined that the mother standing by the window, though pale, was neither haggard nor sorrowful. Even the faint trace of exhaustion that had always lingered unintentionally in her expression had vanished completely.
“Dia, Lia, you’ve come.”
Though her voice still carried the hoarse, low tone of someone recovering from a serious illness, the Anna Rochel who spoke now possessed composure and confidence. Pride and poise were written across her sharp, lined face, and the cold light in her eyes was bright and piercing, making one’s hair stand on end.
“M-Mother…”
Gloria wanted to rush forward for a hug and act spoiled with her mother, but Mother’s unusual demeanor today held her back. Claudia, as the elder sister who prided herself on being past the age of clinging to Mother, did not dare take a single step.
“You must have been worried.”
Ye Tang took the initiative to walk over and gave each daughter a warm embrace. She patted the top of Claudia’s head and stroked Gloria’s cheek.
These two girls were good children. Their eyes were still red at the corners, and their youthful, collagen-filled faces bore dark circles that no makeup could hide.
The servant woman had told Ye Tang that since she had forbidden her two daughters from visiting her room, they had stayed outside her door, helping the servants with chores like boiling water, changing it, wringing towels, and washing clothes.
Ye Tang believed that if she said nothing and did nothing, Claudia and Gloria would indeed bully Cinderella mercilessly. In their eyes, Cinderella and her mother were the culprits who had destroyed the family’s harmony and happiness. The more they loved their parents—especially their mother—the more they hated Cinderella’s mother and Cinderella.
In truth, sixteen-year-old Claudia and fourteen-year-old Gloria were still children. Hans was the pillar of the household, the authority figure in their eyes. They dared not blame the cheating Hans and refused to tarnish the image of their father in their hearts. Cinderella’s mother was gone, and Cinderella had stepped into a home that did not belong to her. Naturally, the sisters poured all their resentment onto Cinderella.
Even the original Anna Rochel could not help hating Cinderella—how could she possibly stop her daughters from bullying her husband’s illegitimate daughter?
From Anna Rochel’s perspective, Ye Tang could understand her resentment. Ye Tang would not hypocritically accuse her of being insufficiently tolerant toward the illegitimate child.
But the one here now was not Anna Rochel—it was Ye Tang. So Ye Tang would not let Claudia and Gloria become true villainess ladies. Even from a pragmatic standpoint, provoking Cinderella, the story’s protagonist, was unwise. Besides, wasn’t it a tremendous waste to spend one’s life fixated on others instead of enjoying one’s own?
Claudia and Gloria were not bad by nature, and they were at the flower-like age of youth. Rather than bullying in dark corners, they were better suited to running freely in the sunlight, letting smiles fill their youth to the brim.
Claudia, who had not been hugged by her mother in a long time, felt a bit shy. Her cheeks flushed pink like tender apples, yet she could not bear to push Ye Tang away.
The spoiled Gloria rubbed against Ye Tang’s embrace even more enthusiastically. Only after a reminder from her sister’s gaze did she remember: “Right, Mother, Father… he’s back.”
“Is that so? Hans has returned.”
To the daughters’ surprise, Ye Tang remained utterly calm. “Then let’s have breakfast together as a family.”
Claudia’s back hairs stood on end; she took this for the calm before the storm. Once released by Ye Tang, she obediently followed behind her, descending the stairs together.
The Hedelin House was a well-off family straddling the line between middle class and nobility. Compared to impoverished nobles crammed across four generations into a single small building, the Hedelins had far more money. From a social standing perspective, however, they could hardly enter high society.
“Oh! Anna Rochel, my love! You’ve finally come down to see me! I thought you were still mad at me!”
Halfway down the spiral staircase, Ye Tang spotted the man at the bottom.
Hans Hedelin possessed an excellent physique; otherwise, Claudia and Gloria would not have turned out so striking. Back then, Anna Rochel would not have fallen for him at first sight, bringing her dowry to marry and handing it over as startup capital for his ventures.
Unlike Anna Rochel and her two daughters, Hans Hedelin’s hair was a warm chestnut brown. When he looked at people, his emerald eyes brimmed with an enthusiasm and sincerity rare among merchants. A neatly trimmed goatee framed his chin, giving him a shrewd, capable air along with the mature charm only an experienced man could possess.
Hans Hedelin was also a linguistic genius. Not only was he fluent in the languages of several major trading nations around them, but he also spoke the local dialects of their own country flawlessly. He understood the art of speech—the so-called “high emotional intelligence.”
“I am still mad at you.”
Ye Tang paused on the stairs with a fake smile. Thanks to her current appearance, that insincere expression carried tremendous pressure.
The moment Hans met Ye Tang’s gaze, he wilted, like a frog spotting a snake.
“My love, please forgive me. I really just couldn’t resist the temptation for a moment and made a grave mistake…”
Couldn’t resist the temptation for a moment? That “moment” had been quite long indeed.
Cinderella was already fourteen. If Cinderella’s mother learned that her fifteen years with Hans were just his “momentary temptation,” who knew if she would leap straight out of her grave in fury?
Ye Tang descended the stairs, her face expressionless.
“So what? A mistake is a mistake.”
Hans swallowed hard. The woman brushing past him did not feel like the Anna Rochel he knew.
In his imagination, Anna Rochel should have been hysterical. Even if not, she ought to be the embodiment of rage and fury. He had steeled himself to face a madwoman blinded by jealousy and hatred. But upon actually seeing Anna Rochel, all the tough words he had prepared became useless.
It was like charging into battle prepared to shatter into pieces, only to find the enemy was all hot air—supremely awkward.
The calmer his wife was, the more uneasy Hans felt.
“Yes… You’re right, Anna Rochel. No matter what, I am the one in the wrong. I only beg you not to take it out on—”
“Since you know you were wrong, Hans, don’t you think you should face some punishment?”
Hans had not even finished saying “Cinderella” when Ye Tang cut him off by sitting down at the dining table.
If Hans were truly a good father and husband, he would not have insisted on bringing Cinderella home after his wife fell ill from anger.
This was pouring oil on the fire—tossing a punching bag that wouldn’t fight back right in front of an enraged Anna Rochel for her to pummel.
“This… You’re right, my love.”
Seeing his wife willing to relent, Hans quickly climbed aboard. “As long as you forgive me, my love, I’ll accept any punishment.”
“Is that so?”
Ye Tang dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Her posture was exceedingly elegant, almost noble.
Busy negotiating with his wife, Hans failed to notice these details. Claudia and Gloria, however, could not help imitating their mother’s refined movements upon seeing how elegantly she dined.
Though their imitations started off rather clumsy.
“I’ve been unwell these past few days and hired a servant woman to manage the household. She did very well, so I plan to keep her on.”
Hearing his wife’s words, Hans let out a huge sigh of relief.
What was this… Anna Rochel just wanted a servant after all?