Observing Wife Under the Lamp - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My name is Shen Jianyue.

I am seventeen years old. Three days ago, I was married off into the Zhou Family of Linzhou.

Everyone in Linzhou knows the Zhou Family.

Their estate is massive, their ancestors are numerous, and their threshold is intimidatingly high.

On the day I stepped into the bridal sedan, half the street turned out to watch the spectacle.

Some praised my good fortune, while others whispered behind my back that I was cursed with a hard fate.

Because this marriage to the Zhou Family didn’t feel like a wedding.

It felt like a debt collection.

When my mother saw me off, she cried harder than if she had lost her husband.

As she straightened my bridal veil, her hands were shaking.

She asked me, “Jianyue, do you still remember what you were most afraid of as a child?”

I said I was afraid of the dark.

Her eyes reddened instantly.

She looked as if she wanted to say something, but the words never left her lips.

In the end, she simply pressed a blackened, old peace charm into my hand.

Lowering her voice, she said, “If the Zhou Family asks you to watch the lamps at night, pretend to be ill.”

I asked her why.

She only shook her head.

The wedding matron was outside, rushing us impatiently.

They kept prattling on about “auspicious hours” and “marrying up,” their chatter making my ears ache.

As my mother ushered me into the sedan, her fingernails nearly dug into my wrist.

She whispered a single sentence: “Escape if you can.”

A chill ran through my heart at that moment.

I knew then that this marriage was no joyous occasion.

Yet, I still boarded the sedan.

Because the Shen Family had no other way out.

After my father died, the family had been drowning in debt for three years.

My two younger brothers were still small, and my mother was sickly.

The bride price promised by the Zhou Family was enough to give the Shen Family two years of breathing room.

And the other reason the Zhou Family gave was one my mother didn’t have the courage to refuse.

They had taken my birth chart to be read.

They said that if I didn’t enter the Zhou Family, I wouldn’t survive the month.

I didn’t believe such talk at first.

But for the past year, I had been dreaming every single night.

In the dream, there was always a lamp.

A woman sat beneath the light.

She wore red clothes and kept her head bowed, her fingers rhythmically plucking at the lamp wick.

Every time I was about to see her face, I would wake up.

I originally thought it was just the weight of my own anxieties.

It wasn’t until I actually entered the Zhou Family that I realized it wasn’t a dream.

On my first night, Zhou Yan didn’t come.

They said his old illness had flared up and he was resting in the front courtyard.

He came on the second night.

He was thin and quiet, with features so delicate they looked as if they had been painted.

To be honest, if one only looked at his face, I hadn’t made a bad bargain with this marriage.

Unfortunately, his face was far too pale.

Like someone who hadn’t seen the sun in years.

Upon entering, the first thing he did was look at my wrists.

He looked very closely, as if inspecting merchandise.

Annoyed by his scrutiny, I asked him, “What are you looking at?”

He said, “Seeing if you’re a living person.”

His tone was neither heavy nor light.

Yet, it was somehow more unsettling than if he had been lecherous.

I replied, “What, is the Zhou Family afraid of marrying a dead woman?”

He looked up at me and went silent for two heartbeats.

He said, “We are.”

“It’s only if you are truly alive that things become troublesome.”

I wanted to hurl my ceremonial fan at his face right then.

But being new to the household, I ultimately endured it.

He didn’t touch me that night.

Nor did he say much of anything substantial to me.

He simply sat by the table, staring at the lamp.

As the lamp’s glow brightened by an inch, his expression darkened by an inch.

I was incredibly drowsy. Just as I was drifting off, I saw him stand up and meticulously tuck in every corner of the bed curtains.

His movements were so gentle, as if he were afraid of waking something up.

The third night was when things truly went wrong.

Just after the Hour of the Pig, Zhou Yan ordered all the maids to leave the room.

The windows were closed one by one.

The doors were locked layer by layer.

He personally lit three lamps.

One on the table, one at the foot of the bed, and one behind the bed curtains.

I asked him why a lamp had to be lit behind the bed curtains as well.

His hand faltered, and the flint nearly slipped from his grip.

He said it was the Zhou Family rule.

I remarked that the Zhou Family certainly had a lot of rules.

He said, “From tonight onward, there is one you must remember.”

He didn’t look at me while he spoke, his eyes fixed solely on the lamp.

He said, “After the hour of the Rat, do not speak, do not look back, and do not look at the shadows behind the curtains.”

I laughed at that.

“And what if I do?” I challenged.

He finally raised his eyes.

Those eyes were a heavy, deep black, so dark that not a single speck of light could penetrate them.

He said, “Then you will die.”

He spoke with such gravity that it didn’t sound like an empty threat.

A sudden knot of unease tightened in my chest, yet I refused to back down.

“Zhou Yan,” I said, “if you’re trying to hide another woman in this room, there’s no need for such frightening nonsense.”

He watched me for a long moment, his voice dropping to a chilling low.

“Shen Jianyue,” he said, “you had better hope that I am just hiding a woman.”

The room fell silent instantly.

Only the crackle of the lamp wick remained.

Sitting on the couch, the more I thought about it, the more unsettled I felt.

A man, on the third night of his marriage, sealing the room like this and forcing his wife to stare at a lamp.

If I actually obeyed him, I would be the fool.

As soon as the hour of the Rat arrived, a sudden gust of wind whistled in through some unknown crack.

All three lamps flickered simultaneously.

Zhou Yan immediately sat down in front of me and pushed the lamp on the table closer to my face.

The heat from the flame radiated against my skin, making me feel flustered and panicked.

“From now on,” he commanded, “not a sound.”

I ignored him.

“Shen Jianyue,” he warned.

I still ignored him.

The next moment, he reached out and grabbed my wrist.

His voice dropped, tinged with a flicker of anger.

“I am not joking with you,” he said.

I shook him off.

“And don’t treat me like a wooden puppet,” I retorted. “I’ve already married into this family. You have to let me know what kind of play the Zhou Family is putting on in the middle of the night.”

He looked at me as if he wanted to say something.

In the end, he only managed to utter, “The less you know, the longer you live.”

I was about to snap back at him.

But in that instant, I suddenly noticed an extra shadow on the floor.

My shadow and Zhou Yan’s shadow were both there.

The lamp behind the bed curtains also cast a bright glow against the fabric.

But there, clear as day on the floor, was a third shadow.

Thin and long, like the shadow of a woman.

It wasn’t anywhere else.

It was pressed right against my back.

My scalp went numb with terror.

It felt as if something was blocking my throat; I couldn’t force out a single word.

Zhou Yan clearly saw it too.

His face turned deathly pale, and his hand suddenly gripped my shoulder.

“Don’t move,” he whispered.

Just those two words.

But before I could even process them, the paper windowpanes began to bulge inward, puffing in and out with the wind.

It was as if someone were pressed against the outside, blowing air through them.

The lamp behind the bed curtains flickered first, then went out with a sharp pop.

The room was suddenly plunged halfway into darkness.

In that very moment, I heard the sound of fabric softly brushing against the bedpost behind me.

Someone was slowly standing up from behind the bed curtains.

My mind exploded with panic, and I instinctively turned my head.

Then, I saw Zhou Yan drop to his knees with a heavy thud.

He wasn’t kneeling to me.

He was kneeling toward the darkness behind the bed curtains.

His hands were shaking, and his voice trembled as well.

He said, “Wife, save me.”

My entire body froze.

Because sitting behind the bed curtains was a woman.

She was wearing my nightgown, her hair was styled in my bun, and even her face was exactly the same as mine.

She held the extinguished lamp in her arms, watching us quietly.

Then, she raised a finger.

And pointed right at me.