17.38
“Who was it?” he murmured, his voice low as he traced the line of my jaw. “Who put the poison in your wine?
I didn’t answer. I just watched his cool, jade–like profile. A blush, deep and lovely, was creeping up from the tips of his ears.
“They said you cry easily…” The thought made me feel a delicious sort of curiosity.
“They? Who is ‘they…?” His eyes narrowed, a hint of danger in their depths.
I didn’t want to explain.
“Let me see for myself, my husband.”
“See what?” His voice was a raw, broken whisper.
The crimson bed curtains, embroidered with mandarin ducks, fell around us, enclosing us in our own world.
A lifetime of joy unfurled like a dream in the endless night.
From this moment on, you are my every sorrow, and my every joy.
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