Que tipo de moça de relógio ela é?
O maior arrependimento de Liang Shanru era que sua timidez e obediência haviam arruinado toda a sua vida. Após renascer, ela decidiu que nada a impediria: se deparasse com deuses, os enfrentaria; se deparasse com budas, também os enfrentaria. Ninguém poderia impedi-la de limpar a injustiça sofrida por seu pai e de conquistar um futuro brilhante para si mesma. Esse caminho não seria fácil, pois aqueles de caráter nobre não eram confiáveis, e os que podiam ser confiados tinham caráter duvidoso. Até que, um dia, um certo jovem lhe fez uma proposta irresistível: "Eu vingarei sua dor, e cuidarei de você pelo resto de sua vida." Liang Shanru, então, se comoveu.
Que tipo de moça de relógio ela é?
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The first snow had already fallen in Yangzhou City this November, and beneath its silvery mantle, the Changle Marquisate was steeped in an unusually stern atmosphere.
Inside the grand hall, the floor dragon was burning hot, thick felt curtains sealing off every trace of winter’s chill from the courtyard. Changle Marquis, resplendent in his authority, sat at the head of the room, his expression iron-dark. Beside him, a beautiful woman wore a look of deep worry and anxiety.
Before long, the curtain was lifted. Liang Shanru entered, brushing the snow from her shoulders as she did, carrying the cold air of the outdoors with her.
“You shameless wretch, kneel before me!” Changle Marquis, just past forty and in his prime, thundered with a voice like a great bell. His large hand slammed the rosewood armrest so hard it nearly split in two.
“My lord—” the lady began.
“Be silent! You’ve always spoiled her, indulged her into what she is now, and you still dare plead for her?” Changle Marquis did not spare even a glance for his wife, Lady Zhou.
Having finished his tirade, he glared at Liang Shanru, who stood tall and unyielding in the center of the hall, only growing more incensed. “Insolent girl! Attend me!”
A young servant entered at his call, but, glancing at Liang Shanru, none dared approach.
Liang Shanru lifted her eyelids at last, finally showing a response. Her voice, clear as an oriole’s, melodious and graceful—even in its calm, chilly tone—carried a faint trace of coquettishness: “All I did was go out for a cu
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