Chapter 1

My husband died.

Before he died, he told me he had left me two shadow guards.

I was stunned.

I was nothing but a country woman from a little village, and he was only a candied-apple seller from the next town over. What in the world was a shadow guard?

It was not until I saw the strange floating comments appear before my eyes that I learned the truth.

My husband had never been an ordinary peddler.

He was a fallen nobleman, once close to the crown prince, and now that his fortunes had turned, he was going back to the capital to marry a princess.

Afraid I would become a burden he could not shake off, he had chosen to fake his death.

The floating words rushed past so fast they made my head spin.

So this is the hero’s ex-wife?

She really does look too plain for him.

Her face is dusty and dull, though she’s not ugly. But compared to the princess? Not even close.

If I were him, I’d choose the princess too.

She still doesn’t know her husband faked his death, does she? Silly thing, she’s probably still going to his grave.

This side character should’ve just been killed. Leaving her alive is asking for trouble.

Later she finds out the truth and goes to the capital to make a scene. The princess gets so angry she asks for a divorce, and the hero spends forever trying to win her back.

Thinking of how this foolish village wife ends up losing her tongue for speaking recklessly in the capital makes me feel a lot better.

I covered my mouth.

Then I stopped going to his grave every day to cry.

Instead, I went home obediently.

On the Lantern Festival, I took the two shadow guards with me to burn paper offerings for him.

They were very useful.

With both of them warming the bed, they really were better than just one man.

Husband, rest peacefully underground.

Don’t worry. I absolutely will not go to the capital.

But two days later, my husband—who had been dead for three months—kicked open my little fenced yard and returned.

Before that happened, though, I received a letter.

“People have to move on,” the woman next door sighed to me one morning, pity in her eyes. “A husband’s gone, but life still goes on.”

I did not answer her.

I only frowned down at the letter in my hand, then slowly looked up.

“Mrs. Parker,” I asked, “do you think my husband became some kind of immortal?”

She stared at me as if grief had finally driven me mad. Then she shook her head and left.

I tightened my grip on the paper.

I had found it that morning beside the pigpen.

The handwriting on it was neat and careful.

I have gone away. Ten miles east, at the bank, I have left you three hundred silver dollars. I also leave you two personal guards. Live well.

It was my husband’s handwriting.

When I touched the page, the ink was still not fully dry. It could only have been written recently.

But my husband had died half a month ago.

He had been crushed so badly there was barely anything left of him. His bones had been shattered. If I had not recognized the strip of smoked pork I had tied to his waist myself, I would not even have known it was him.

At first I thought someone in the village was playing a trick on me.

Plenty of people here never liked me.

I set down the letter, cut two small pieces of smoked pork from the strips drying by the window, and prepared to go cry at my husband’s grave again.

That was when the words appeared before my eyes.

Endless little lines of floating text, packed so tightly together I nearly stumbled backward.

The hero’s ex-wife really is pathetic.

He was in hiding, disguised as a candy seller. That makes sense. But why marry her?

A village woman’s honor matters so much in this era.

Yeah, but he left her two shadow guards and three hundred silver dollars.

Three hundred!

She couldn’t earn that by farming for the rest of her life.

Besides, he and she were never from the same world.

If he really brought her back to the capital, everyone would laugh at him.

A royal scholar marrying some country nobody? Please.

I froze.

Then I turned away from the graveyard path and headed toward the bank instead.

I had to see whether those strange words were telling the truth.

The bank owner greeted me warmly the moment I walked in, as if someone had instructed him beforehand.

Smiling from ear to ear, he led me into the back room and placed a heavy silver ingot in my palm.

My heart dropped.

The floating words… had been right.

I told him to keep the rest for me. I only took ten silver dollars and slipped them into my pocket.

That night, I lay in bed unable to sleep.

The money was hidden beneath my pillow.

When I reached out beside me, the blankets were empty. Cold. So cold.

I had always run chilly. My husband, though weak, had still been a man. His body ran warm.

I used to make him get into bed before me so he could warm the blankets first. He never seemed very happy about it, but he always did it anyway.

I sighed and curled tighter under the covers, about to force myself to sleep—

When the window suddenly rattled.

I whipped my head around.

In the moonlight, a fat man was climbing in through my window.

I screamed, “Who are you?”

The floating words exploded.

A thug breaking into a widow’s house!

Where are the guards?

Protect the lady! Protect the lady!

Terrified, I fumbled in the dark for the wooden stick by my bed.

Before I could grab it, there was a muffled grunt.

When I looked up again, the fat intruder was already flat on the ground.

A man dressed entirely in black stood with his back to me. Silent as a ghost, he hoisted the intruder over one shoulder and started to leave.

The floating words cheered.

The hero really did leave her the best guards.

Too bad she doesn’t know how lucky she is.

That shadow guard is built so well…

I swallowed.

Then I blurted out, “Don’t go. I’m scared.”

The air went still for two seconds.

The black-clad man lifted his head toward the roof and said only one sentence.

“Come down and keep her company.”

Then he carried the intruder away and vanished.

Two seconds later, I found myself staring at another man in black.

And he was staring back at me.

The floating words went wild again.

His brother just sold him out that fast?

This younger guard is way too obedient.

Even with his face covered, you can tell he’s insanely handsome.

I did not understand half the things those floating words said.

But looking at the broad shoulders and narrow waist of the man before me, I still swallowed hard.

“My husband said… if I need anything, I can ask the two of you. Right?”

He looked at me and gave one quiet nod.

I pointed awkwardly at my bed.

“Then… can you warm the bed for me?”

Silence.

Only the sound of the wind.

Then, after a storm of floating exclamation marks, the man finally answered.

“No.”