He Left Me to Burn for My Sister

Father selected two potential spouses for my sister and me. One was a medical professor returned from overseas—gentle, cultured, and possessed of a grace as refined as polished jade. At my sister's birthday banquet, he draped a pearl necklace around her neck, and everyone declared them a match made in heaven. The other was a renowned opera performer from the Pyrus Garden. It was said he had ruined his voice in childhood, leaving him simple-minded and mute, avoiding the crowd whenever possible. My family considered him a curse, claiming he'd never amount to anything, yet I accepted him. After our marriage, I spent my days reviewing opera scripts with him and brewing throat-soothing tonics. He remained silent through it all, watching me with a gaze that seemed to be guarding a secret. One day, the opera troupe burned, flames staining half the sky crimson. My sister and I lay trapped beneath the collapsed stage, our legs crushed by blazing beams. When he charged into the inferno, I stretched out my hand, pleading, "Save me!" However, his gaze was locked on my sister. Without a moment's hesitation, he scooped her up and turned away. As the burning rafters crashed down upon me, "soldiers" flooded into the fire. One of them shouted, "Young Marshal!" In that moment, the truth was revealed. He was neither mute nor a lowly actor. He was the Hodgson family's young marshal, commander of a formidable army. All those years, he had played the fool, hiding in the shadows to wait for my sister's betrothal to end. His voice rang clear through the roar of the flames, "Forgive me! I could only save one! Jennette must be kept safe!" He then added a final, cruel blow, "You destroyed my happiness! You will atone with your life!" When I woke up, the heat was gone, and I realized I had returned to the very day Father selected our suitors. As I awoke, Father sat holding a teacup, his face beaming. "Jessica, Jennette, the Hodgson family has come to propose today. Choose wisely." I studied my fingers—nails perfectly rounded, smooth, and unmarked, free of the burns I'd earned brewing medicine for Larry Hodgson in my past life. My fingertips trembled slightly, the memory of flames still licking at my skin. My sister sat primly beside Mother, her pink dress accentuating her doll-like charm. Morris Crankston stood behind her, his fingers resting lightly on her shoulder. "Mr. Hodgson has arrived!" The curtain parted, and Larry entered. In my past life, he'd pretended to be mute, dressed in rough homespun, and been too timid to raise his head. Back then, I thought I'd found a kindred spirit, and I protected him like a fool. But today, draped in a moon-pale robe with lustrous white jade at his waist—not a trace of the pitiful opera singer remained. Father rose hurriedly, "Mr. Hodgson, are you..." Larry didn't even glance at me, walking straight to Father. "Mr. Shepherd, I've come today to propose to your second daughter." My younger sister gasped and covered her mouth, while Morris's face darkened instantly. Mother tugged at my sleeve. "Jessica, you're the older sister. Just let Mr. Hodgson have Jennette." Her tone made it sound like it was only natural, as if I were destined to forever be trampled by my own sister. I sneered. In my past life, it was the same playbook. They forced me to wed that "half-wit performer," claiming my sister was too precious and deserved better. Humiliation pricked my heart like needles, bringing with it a dense, searing pain. I looked up, met his gaze directly, and said, "Mr. Hodgson, weren't you an opera performer? Why are you..." Father snapped, "Jessica! How dare you speak to Mr. Hodgson like that?" Larry finally turned to me, his eyes piercingly cold. "Jessica is right. I did indeed perform in the past." Slowly, he pulled a military seal from his robes. "But now, I am the young marshal of the Hodgson family." The room buzzed with shock. Morris sprang to his feet. "Impossible! The young marshal of the Hodgsons is clearly..." "Oh, you mean... dead?" Larry murmured with a cold laugh.