My wife is a concubine - Chapter 1

“Beat this to death!”

The cane hit her back, breaking the spine and shattering her internal organs. The bl00d gushing out seemed to find no outlet, all pouring into the brain, and finally spitting out from the seven holes.

Her mouth was stuffed with a dirty cloth. She wanted to struggle, wanted to cry, wanted to curse, full of unwillingness but unable to scream—from the initial extreme pain to gradual numbness, from the bl00d in front of her eyes to no longer seeing or hearing, as if all the pain and shame were far away from her.

Bergman’s eyes widened, her face pressed against the wooden board of the torture chair. She only felt cold all over and suddenly remembered the day many years ago, when she followed Xie Xiang’er, the legitimate daughter of the right minister of the Ministry of Works, as a concubine, and married into Lingjing Palace…

Who is Xie Xiang’er? It was the woman who had just said that she wanted to beat her to death—the side concubine of King Lingjing.

They used to talk about everything, so good that under her own bitter entanglement, she was willing to let herself marry into Lingjing Palace as a concubine.

Was she too stupid, too self-righteous, and with no dealings of interest, to tolerate another woman sharing her husband’s heart and sharing her husband?

King Lingjing was greedy for her beauty and indeed doted on her for a while, but what the prince liked was never a young girl, but a wife who was quite charming and more open between the sheets. The days of favor were just a blink of an eye, and it didn’t take long for him to throw her from his mind. She soon became one of those resentful women in the palace who were used and lost.

After all, who will cherish a free gift?

The exclusion by the maids, the gossip of the wives, and the yin and yang of Xie Xiang’er—she endured it. She felt that the faces of these people were disgusting and ugly, but what about herself? How could she not be ugly?

Soon, Xie Xiang’er found an excuse to pull out her bed bug that just wanted to step on her and climb up.

She climbed onto the bed of a good sister man, but she couldn’t get the prince to move his doting gaze to Xie Xiang’er.

Then she thought about the day she left home.

The mother’s and sister’s indifferent expressions of hatred and steel, because of her willingness to fall, ashamed of her choice because it had lost her father’s face.

She remembered her sister sighing deeply and then closing the door in front of her.

She had never remembered that scene, and even after leaving home, she deliberately forgot those people and things. So why did she suddenly remember the past, so long ago, at the moment of her death?

In the past, she had complained about her parents, who complained that her father was not up to the task, and yet he was still a two-sleeved county magistrate after more than 20 years in officialdom. No one would believe that she, the daughter of the county magistrate, could change two sets of clothes when she went out, and there were no accessories she could get.

She resented that she was not born into a wealthy family where she could get everything within reach. She did not have a good background, and she did not have a father who could summon the wind and rain to let her take what she wanted.

She was unwilling; she wanted to be a phoenix flying on the branches, and she disdained being a sparrow on the flat ground. So she could only pick up scraps that others didn’t want to eat.

So she calculated carefully and tried her best to climb up to Xie Xiang’er. After climbing up, she never did less than flattery, flattery, and flattery, which allowed her to get a ticket to the palace.

Since you can’t be born into a rich family, then earn it yourself!

As a result, what did she earn?

Xie Xiang’er kept scolding her as a “dirty thing,” as well as the scolding she got when they were fighting in the backyard.

She was dirty, yes, but who was cleaner in the backyard than whom? Were there still fewer people who earned to climb up?

Is the idea of living a good life wrong?

She thought that she could see beautiful scenery unobstructed by climbing up from a low place, but in fact, she had bitten the bullet to earn things, and when she looked back, she found that some things were either earned or taken from herself.

God once gave her a chance, but she failed miserably, and she was defeated miserably.

Does she still have a chance to start over?

Everyone knows that life cannot be repeated.

God had already given her a chance that others couldn’t hope for… but she wasted it.

The crimson in front of her turned into inky black.

The outside voice became weaker and weaker. At first, she could hear screams, but later there was no sound. She lay on the torture chair like a lump of mud, and only when the board hit her did her body move with it.

There were many onlookers, in order to “kill chickens to scare monkeys.”

“The person is dead.” The woman who was playing with the board looked at the motionless person, quickly avoided her eyes, stretched out her finger to the tip of her nose to test, and said to Xie Xiang’er,

“Drag her out and throw her away!” The woman wearing gorgeous clothes, raising her eyebrows high, snorted coldly, with a look of pleasure after getting rid of her.

If you take the courtyard of a seventh-rank official family as an example, although this place is a little cramped and narrow, it is still furnished.

There is a chestnut wood carved plum blossom dressing table and dressing box against the west wall, and a face wash rack made of fir wood next to the dressing table, with a copper folding round mouth basin for washing the face on top.

There are two embroidered benches opposite the dressing table, with a long table in the middle, decorated with a white porcelain waist vase and a small bowl with traced flowers, raised with rain flower stones. At the back of the pine bed is a small silk screen door, behind which is a bathtub with a backrest and a bucket with a lid.

Looking out from the house, one can see several canna and plane trees.

Every year at this time, sycamore flowers bloom, filling the courtyard with sweet and refreshing fragrance.

She breathed deeply, inhaling the green scent.

That’s it, yes, that’s it.

She hadn’t felt anything about those flowers and plants before, and as the seasons changed, she had never felt she had missed anything.

The bedroom, which used to be small and cramped, now seemed nothing bad.

She had many things a woman should have. The green gauze tent looked ordinary, but there was a row of fluttering butterflies under the tent, embroidered for her by her sister, who saw she disliked the ugly tent and spent several nights embroidering it with various silk threads.

She had so much family love—why couldn’t she see it before? She had only felt that, as the daughter of a county magistrate, she was shabby and incapable, and that everyone laughed at her.

After all, if a woman from an official’s family attends a party, the competition is nothing more than family background, who wears popular materials or accessories, and who is better at piano, chess, calligraphy, and painting.

And she was usually the one who was ignored.

Her father was just a seventh-grade sesame officer, earning seven stones and five buckets per month—not corrupt or dishonest. Regarding clothing, her clothes were neither good nor bad. Biqin, chess, calligraphy, and painting—her father had invited masters to teach, and her sister learned diligently. But her heart was not in it, and she often skipped classes, pretending to be sick and lazy. Over time, the master focused on her sister and barely looked at her.

However, she was keen on poetry and flower appreciation parties, always trying every possible way to climb relationships, to show herself and seize opportunities.

She had never felt sorry for her father’s half-worn official robe. As someone else’s daughter, she would only complain about what she lacked and cling to what she didn’t have.

Looking at the familiar furniture in front of her, Bergman knew she had returned to the time when she had just turned fifteen, and had not long since reached adulthood.

Her mother carefully asked the old lady of the prefect to insert a hairpin for her, because the old lady’s descendants had been in the same house for six generations. She was virtuous and blessed, praised by Xie Xiang’er.

Now, thinking of Xie Xiang’er, she felt only disgust, like tens of thousands of flies crawling in her heart.

When she received this gift, she was so happy she almost couldn’t find her bearings, feeling that Xie Xiang’er was sincere. How did she know that after marrying into Lingjing Palace, one day, Xie Xiang’er would be in a bad mood and vent her anger on her, saying her father was an honest official, raising a daughter with shallow eyelids, who could be bought with just a hairpin?

Only then did she know what virtue meant in the eyes of others: love vanity, solitary self-appreciation, flashy, and useless.

Looking at herself in the bronze mirror, she naturally kept her hair after coming of age, combed her bangs to reveal her round forehead, her fair and delicate melon seed face unpowdered.

She knew she was beautiful, so before she was reborn, she had always thought she should live a better life than others with her outstanding appearance. So, although she asked Xie Xiang’er, who was not as good as her, to look obedient on the surface, her contempt and arrogance were revealed from time to time.

Before crossing over, she had facial features that were above average. After crossing over, she was overjoyed to get such a flower-like face. The praise of people around her made her dizzy, even invincible, forgetting that appearance was never the most important thing, and her mind was empty.

Men may be attracted to women’s appearances at first, but real men prefer to see their inner selves.

She didn’t understand these truths, and she had lived in ignorance for two lifetimes in a row—and she didn’t die well.

Bergman had previously only seen herself. Her eyes were shallow, and only when she was truly at the low part of the valley could she appreciate the vastness of heaven and earth.

She knelt and bowed her head three times respectfully to heaven, thanking God for rebirth and the opportunity to correct her mistakes.

She vowed never to live a life of idleness again.

She wanted to be a woman who knew what she wanted, could act, controlled her destiny, and earned her glory and happiness by her own ability, and would never think of ascending to heaven in one step again!