The secret imperial medicine of the Qi Kingdom’s royal family, Juezi wine, could prevent a person from bearing children. The Emperor had given three choices: marry Miao Yin, render An Jin infertile, or render me infertile. Surprisingly, An Jin chose to render himself infertile rather than me.
I sat on a stone stool in the courtyard, reflecting on our life together. From the moment I stole An Jin’s sugar cake at three and became his little follower, to rejecting a suitor at fifteen, to our noisy wedding at eighteen, I thought we were ordinary childhood sweethearts meant to accompany each other for life. He was my husband and the father of my children. We were supposed to have two children, one like me and one like him.
How did such a good marriage invite disaster? At this moment, I didn’t want to think about unanswered questions.
Yuanxiao lay at my feet, occasionally looking up. An Jin stood behind me, waiting quietly.
“Brother Jin,” I turned to him. “Not having children isn’t a big deal. We’ll just find more wives for Yuanxiao to have dozens of puppies running around, more lively than children.”
Yuanxiao raised his head in shock at the mention of his name, probably guessing my intentions.
An Jin laughed. “That’s settled then.”
He crouched down and rubbed my frozen face. I pulled him into my embrace. Hot tears rolled down my face, something in my heart swelling painfully.
“Brother Jin, we’ll never separate in this lifetime.”
An Jin nodded slightly in my arms. “Even if you try to drive me away, I won’t leave.”
He had always been cunning, calculating precisely. One cup of Juezi wine opened my heart, making me devoted to him for life. Knowing I hated owing favors, he ensured I would owe him completely, leaving no way to escape.
Later, An Jin told me that while Juezi wine had no antidote, it significantly reduced the chances of bearing children but did not completely eliminate them.
