CHAPTER 4: THE WINE-STAINED MIRACLE
1284 Words
Chapter 4: The Wine-Stained Miracle
The midnight silk of Shanshan’s gown felt less like a garment and more like a shroud. As she stood before the vanity, her fingers traced the hollows of her collarbones. In just one week, the vibrancy she had carefully nurtured for six years had been siphoned away, leaving behind a woman who looked as fragile as the porcelain Chen had shattered.
"Are you done?"
Zhan-Ting’s voice sliced through the room. He stood in the doorway, already armored in a tuxedo that highlighted hias cold, sculpted perfection. He didn't look at her face; he looked at his watch.
"The guests are arriving. I expect you to be a wife in name tonight, Shanshan. Not a martyr. Wipe that look off your face."
"I am tired, Zhan-Ting," she whispered, her voice a ghost of itself. "The donation this morning... I haven't even had a meal."
"Ruo-Xin hasn't had a full night’s sleep in seven years," he countered, his tone flat. "Your discomfort is a luxury she can’t afford. Move."
The gala was a sea of shimmering predators. As Shanshan descended the grand staircase, she felt the weight of a hundred judgmental eyes. She was the "Maid’s Daughter," the girl who had climbed too high. And tonight, they had all come to watch her fall.
In the center of the ballroom, Zhan-Ting stood with Ye Ruo-Xin. She was a vision in blush lace, her hand resting with practiced ease on Zhan-Ting’s arm, a spot that should have belonged to Shanshan. They looked like the sun and the moon, while Shanshan was merely the darkness that filled the gaps between them.
The dinner was a slow-motion execution. Zhan-Ting had seated Ruo-Xin at the head of the table, directly to his right. Shanshan was relegated to the far end, placed between two business associates who looked at her as if she were a spill on the tablecloth.
"I heard the Lu family is looking for new 'investments,'" Mrs. Zhang remarked, her voice carrying a sharp edge of malice. "It seems Zhan-Ting has finally realized that some old debts are worth more than new contracts."
Zhan-Ting raised his glass, his eyes softening as they landed on Ruo-Xin. "The Lu family values what is genuine. Some things," he said, casting a brief, chilling look toward Shanshan, "are merely temporary fixtures."
The table erupted in polite, cruel laughter. Shanshan gripped her fork, her knuckles white. She felt the tiny life inside her stir, a flicker of warmth in a room made of ice. I’m doing this for you, she told the silence in her womb. Just a little longer.
"Oh, but Shanshan is so devoted," Ruo-Xin chirped, her voice like honey laced with arsenic. "She even gave blood for my Chen today. Though, she did look a bit... hesitant. As if she had something more important to protect than a child’s life."
Zhan-Ting’s wine glass paused at his lips. "Hesitant?"
"It’s nothing, really," Ruo-Xin continued, leaning closer to him. "It’s just... she’s been clutching something in her pocket all night. A small velvet box. I thought perhaps she had a gift for you, but when I asked, she became so defensive. It made me wonder if it was a memento from that friend of hers... the one who visited the estate gates while you were at the office?"
The air in the room vanished. The accusation of infidelity hung over the table like a guillotine.
"Shanshan," Zhan-Ting’s voice was a low, vibrating growl. "Stand up."
Shanshan rose, her legs shaking. The eyes of the elite were pinned to her, hungry for the scandal.
"Give it to me," he commanded.
"No, Zhan-Ting. It’s not what she says. It’s... it’s ours."
"Ours?" He laughed, a sound so devoid of joy it made her blood run cold. He walked the length of the table, his presence a suffocating weight. He didn't wait for her to hand it over. He reached into her pocket and wrenched the velvet box from her fingers.
He flicked it open.
The white plastic stick with the two blue lines sat nestled in the black silk. For a heartbeat, Shanshan thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes—a ghost of the man who had once promised to build her a world.
Then, Ruo-Xin’s voice cut through the silence. "Two lines? How convenient, Shanshan. Right when the divorce papers were being drafted. I didn't know a 'Maid’s Daughter' could be such a talented actress."
Zhan-Ting’s face hardened into a mask of pure, unadulterated disgust. He looked at the test, then at Shanshan’s tear-streaked face.
"You think I’m a fool?" he whispered, leaning in so close she could smell the expensive wine on his breath. "You think you can trap me with a piece of plastic and a lie? I haven't touched you in months, Shanshan. I’ve been working twenty-hour days to fix the mess you made of this family."
"It was the night of the charity ball," she sobbed, the words falling into the silence of the room. "You were drunk, you came home and you..."
"Enough!" He roared, the sound making the crystal glasses vibrate.
He took the pregnancy test and dropped it into his half-full glass of red wine. The dark liquid swallowed the white plastic, the red staining the "miracle" until it looked like something bloody and broken. Her miracle drowned in wine and with it, the last piece of her faith.
"Tomorrow," Zhan-Ting said, his voice loud enough for the entire room to hear, "you will go to the clinic for a blood test. If there is a child, and if it is mine... which I highly doubt... we will discuss the terms of your departure. If it is a lie... you will leave this house tonight."
He turned back to the table as if she were nothing more than a broken plate. "Forgive the drama. The help has always had a flair for the theatrical. Shall we move to the terrace?"
The Ending: The Whispers in the Dark
As the guests filed out, casting glances of mockery and pity, Shanshan remained in her chair, staring at the wine glass. The red liquid felt like a prophecy.
She reached out with a trembling hand and pulled the stained plastic stick from the wine. It was ruined, the blue lines nearly obscured by the dark grape.
She stood up to leave, her body feeling lighter, as if her soul were already departing. But as she passed the heavy velvet curtains leading to the study, she heard a voice.
It was Ruo-Xin, her voice no longer honeyed, but sharp and frantic.
"Is the driver ready?" Ruo-Xin was whispering. "The report from the clinic... it can't reach him. If Zhan-Ting finds out that the boy's blood type shifted after the last 'treatment,' he’ll know the truth about the donor."
Shanshan froze, her heart stopping. Shifted? Blood types didn't shift.
Then, a man’s voice—one Shanshan recognized as Zhan-Ting’s best friend and lawyer—replied: "Don't worry. The wife is already a pariah. No one will listen to a woman who just 'faked' a pregnancy. But Ruo-Xin... we need to move faster. If she finds the letter Shanshan’s mother hid in the servant’s quarters, this whole thing burns."
Shanshan backed away, her hand over her mouth.
A letter? She turned and ran—not toward her bedroom, not toward the exit, but toward the damp, dark servant’s quarters where her mother had lived for thirty years.
What had her mother hidden? And what did Ruo-Xin mean about the blood?
Outside, the storm broke, a flash of lightning illuminating the Lu estate, making it look for one second like a beautiful, crumbling grave.
- Writer
