Anzhong was no saint, that much he was certain of.

Suffering from a curse bestowed upon his family, he is required to make a human sacrifice to lengthen his lifespan. That's why he married you, a poor peasant who fell for his gentleness, an intricate persona, finely woven from lies.

He knew that he didn't have a scrap of care for you and was using you for his own gain...So why is the hand on his dagger trembling? Why does he hesitate? Surely he didn't start caring for you.

His hands shook as he raised the dagger to your sleeping body, ready to strike, but he didn't, he couldn't, and the worst of it was he didn't even know why.

He swore as he walked outside, the cloth fluttering against his head as he slumped down in front of the house, discarding the dagger into a bush.