My Savior, My Second Chance - Chapter 4

Everything my parents said made sense.

Duan Ming—or rather, whoever had planned this behind him—was counting on the Shens to swallow the humiliation for the greater good.

He was confident of success, but still kept up the act.

“Miss, I truly meant no offense. If you’re angry, take a knife to me. I won’t resist!”

I studied his hypocritical face, then smiled sweetly.

“Guard Duan, the physician has already said you saved my life. How could I bear to kill my savior?”

I reached up and stroked his face, calling to him in a soft, coaxing voice.

“But, my dear Duan, you hurt me last night. I want to punish you with a few strokes. Will you accept that?”

I was one of the capital’s greatest beauties. My gentle words left him so besotted that he nodded frantically.

“Gladly! Anything to ease your anger, miss!”

He thought it was a girl’s little fit of temper. Having gained so much, he was naturally happy to suffer a few harmless blows to soothe a beauty.

My parents did not interfere.

Duan Ming was taken into the courtyard, laid on his back, and bound hand and foot by the other guards.

He looked puzzled.

“Aren’t I to be beaten? Why am I lying like this?”

Bracing my aching waist and legs, I walked to his side and patted his cheek with the flat of a dagger. My voice was still gentle.

“Because I’m going to teach you a little lesson myself.”

He thought I was flirting. He even gave a foolish, lovestruck smile.

That smile soon vanished.

My blade slid from his face to his throat, his chest, and his belly.

At last, it settled on the tiny bulge between his legs.

Panic seized him.

“Miss! What are you doing?”

“Didn’t you just say you’d gladly let me take a knife to you?”

My lips curved in a cold smile. Then I brought the blade down between his legs.

Blood sprayed. A piercing scream tore through the air above the Shen residence.

Moments later, a man and a hideous lump of bloody flesh were thrown out of our gates.

Blood poured from his crotch as he convulsed on the ground, screaming in agony.

An observant passerby exclaimed, “Well, look at that. A freshly made eunuch!”

I stepped outside and addressed the gathering crowd.

“This watchdog dared slander his own master’s good name. This is what he gets!”

Duan Ming’s face was ashen with pain. He glared at me with hatred.

“You—you filthy, ruined whore!”

Holding the knife I had castrated him with, I cast it to the ground in disgust.

“You’re the filthy thing.”

With one stroke, I had cut off Duan Ming’s manhood.

Of course, I could have killed him with that stroke instead.

But if he died, how would I lure out the person behind him?

Someone in the crowd looked alarmed and hurried away, presumably to report what had happened.

Sure enough, less than two hours later, a maid came to tell me,

“Someone dragged Duan Ming away. There’s only a pool of blood left.”