Body Double

In the deep autumn of the 16th year of the Republic of China, in Beiping.

Outside the vermillion gate of the Yin family mansion, the stone lion's eyes seemed to have lost their spirit, drenched by the cold autumn rain, staring lifelessly at the empty street. Fine raindrops slanted into the gaps of the gray bricks, bringing out the smell of old soil.

Inside the main hall, the atmosphere was even colder than the rainy day outside.

Yin Zhongxuan, the head of the Yin family, stood behind a large desk of pearwood, holding a black marriage contract in his hand. The material of the contract was extremely strange—neither paper nor silk, cold to the touch, carrying a faint, lingering scent of sandalwood, or perhaps some other herbal medicine. At the seal of the contract was a blood-red fingerprint, standing out against the black background like a wound that had not yet dried.

"Zhongxuan, say something!"

Madam Liu, sitting nearby, could no longer hold back. Her fingers, painted with red nail polish, twisted the handkerchief tightly, her voice sharp with anxiety. "That's a vampire duke! The Qi family... everyone in Beiping knows what the Qi family is. They are old monsters who devour people without spitting out bones! Our Zhaoyue is promised to the son of the Minister of Finance. How can we... how can we give her to that inhuman, ghostly thing!"

The "Zhaoyue" Madam Liu mentioned was sitting on a rosewood chair at the other side. She wore a moon-white modern silk cheongsam, with three silver edges around the collar, making her face look delicate and lovely. But her complexion was pale to the point of transparency. Her hands were tightly clasped on her knees, her nails digging into her flesh, but she could not utter a word.

Yin Zhongxuan ignored his wife's screams. His eyes were fixed on the blood-red pattern at the bottom right corner of the marriage contract. It was a geometric shape woven from countless fine lines, like a spider lily blooming in the night, or like an eye about to close.

He had been the head of the Yin family for twenty years, navigating the ups and downs of business. He had seen many storms. But the moment this marriage contract was delivered, he felt for the first time the weight of "the will of heaven."

"Duke Qi personally issued the marriage contract, seeking 'a daughter of the Yin family,'" Yin Zhongxuan's voice sounded hoarse, as if stuffed with dry sand. "This is not a negotiation; it's a notice. The messenger said it is the destined term of a pact."

"What pact!" Madam Liu stood up abruptly, the gold hairpin on her head shaking wildly. "Our family never had any pact with those things! They are evil spirits! Monsters! Zhongxuan, you have to save Zhaoyue! She is your most beloved eldest daughter!"

Yin Zhongxuan slowly raised his head, his gaze falling on the marriage contract on the desk. A deep, complex fear flickered in his eyes. He knew a secret that Madam Liu did not—the rise of the Yin family's ancestors was indeed related to that "Qi family." But he had always thought it was just a rumor, the nonsense of his grandmother on her deathbed.

Until this black marriage contract, with an unquestionable presence, stood before him.

"Father..."

Yin Zhaoyue, who had been silent, finally spoke, her voice trembling heavily with a sob. "I don't want to go. I saw Duke Qi once... at Minister Gu's party. He sat in the darkest corner and didn't say a word all night. His eyes... they were not human eyes, like ice, cold all over just by looking. Father, I'm scared..."

Yin Zhongxuan looked at his eldest daughter's tearful face and felt a surge of irritation. Of course, he didn't want Zhaoyue to go. Zhaoyue was carefully cultivated as a chess piece, meant to marry into the political elite of Beiping, to ensure the Yin family's prosperity for the next twenty years.

His gaze swept around the main hall, over the expensive porcelain and ancient paintings, and finally settled on an empty point in the air.

"There is more than one daughter in this household."

Yin Zhongxuan's words were so soft that Madam Liu thought she had misheard.

"Zhongxuan, you..." Madam Liu was stunned, then seemed to realize something. A gleam of cunning flashed in her eyes, clouded by anxiety. "You mean... that one in the side courtyard?"

"Zhaowan."

Yin Zhongxuan uttered those two words.

At the mention of that name, the air in the hall seemed to thicken. Yin Zhaowan, the nominal "second miss" of the Yin family, was actually an illegitimate daughter born from a fleeting encounter when Yin Zhongxuan was doing business in Jiangnan. Zhaowan's mother died early without even a proper title. Zhaowan was brought back to Beiping at the age of five and was confined to the most remote small courtyard in the mansion ever since, like a shadow, deliberately forgotten by everyone outside the glamour of the Yin family.

"Yes, that's right!" Madam Liu slapped her thigh, the sorrow on her face largely dissipating. "Zhaowan, once cleaned up, is presentable. The duke is seeking 'a daughter of the Yin family.' Zhaowan also carries your blood. She is also a daughter of the Yin family!"

Yin Zhaoyue's crying stopped. She looked up, and in her eyes, once full of fear, there now appeared a flicker of relief at having escaped disaster, and an indescribable sense of superiority over Zhaowan.

"But..." Zhaoyue whispered, "a man like the Duke, if he finds out..."

"The contract doesn't specify which one," Madam Liu interrupted, her tone becoming firm. "As long as we don't say anything, who will know? Zhaowan rarely shows her face in the mansion. Outsiders only know that the Yin family has two daughters: the eldest is you, and the second is a sickly one. We'll wrap her up tightly and send her over. Once the ceremony is done, the pact is sealed. Even if the Duke discovers the truth later, he has to accept it."

Yin Zhongxuan listened silently to his wife's scheming. He picked up the black marriage contract again and opened it.

His expression changed again.

The inner page of the contract did not say "a daughter of the Yin family" nor any specific birth order. On the yellowed, jade-like surface, a name was written.

Just three characters.

But those three characters, at this very moment, were like a branding iron, burning into his vision.

Madam Liu did not notice her husband's expression. She had already started planning how to "sell" Zhaowan. "I will go now and have that girl brought here."

————

When Yin Zhaowan was brought to the main hall, her old cotton jacket was still stained with water from rinsing rice in the yard moments ago.

She was nineteen years old. She was not as strikingly beautiful as Yin Zhaoyue, and even looked somewhat frail due to long-term malnutrition. Her skin was an unhealthy white with a hint of blue. But her eyes were exceptionally good—clear black and white, carrying an untimely coldness and stubbornness.

In her twenty years, she could count on one hand the times she had entered the main hall.

The last time was the day her grandmother died. Before passing, her grandmother saw no one but called her to the bedside and pressed that cold old jade pendant into her hand.

"Kneel."

Yin Zhongxuan's voice echoed in the hall, carrying an unyielding authority.

Zhaowan knelt quietly. Her knees hit the cold floor tiles, sending pain through her bones, but she did not even frown. She was used to this pain. In the Yin family, pain was the only thing she could truly grasp.

"Zhaowan, your father has something to tell you."

Yin Zhongxuan walked up to her, looking down at her. From his angle, he could only see the back of Zhaowan's slender neck, so white it looked like a brittle twig easy to snap.

"The Duke of the Qi family has sought a woman from our family. This is an honor for our Yin family and the destiny of your life. Your mother and I have discussed it and chosen you."

Zhaowan lowered her head, her eyes fixed on the gaps between the floor tiles. Dust had accumulated in the gaps, like thin black lines.

She did not cry, did not fuss, nor did her tone have any fluctuation.

"Is it to be a stand-in for my sister?"

At these words, Madam Liu's expression turned ugly. Yin Zhaoyue's eyes shifted guiltily away.

"What kind of talk is that!" Madam Liu screeched. "What stand-in? The Duke seeks a daughter of the Yin family. You are the second miss of the Yin family. It is only right that you go! Do you expect to stay in the mansion and be provided for all your life?"

Zhaowan looked up, her gaze directly meeting Yin Zhongxuan's.

"I want to see the marriage contract," she said.

Yin Zhongxuan was taken aback. He did not expect this silent, shadow-like daughter to make such a request.

After a moment's hesitation, he handed over the black marriage contract on the desk.

Zhaowan extended her hands, covered in calluses and red from washing clothes, and took the heavy black document.

It felt warm to the touch. No, it felt cold.

That coldness traveled from her fingertips through her entire body, finally stopping at her heart, pulsing slightly.

She opened the contract.

The moment she saw the name, Zhaowan's pupils contracted sharply.

The contract did not say "the second daughter of the Yin family" nor "Yin Zhaoyue of the Yin family."

On the yellowed background, in a vermillion ink as red as blood, three characters were written neatly:

Yin Zhaowan.

At the seal was a cinnabar stamp, its intricate pattern like an eye about to close.

Zhaowan's hand holding the contract trembled slightly. Those three characters... they were not added later, nor altered. They seemed to have grown naturally on that paper, as if this contract had been waiting for three hundred years for someone named "Yin Zhaowan."

But she had only changed her name three months ago.

Before that, she had been called "Awan" or simply "that illegitimate child." Three months ago, her grandmother was critically ill and delirious. On her deathbed, she pulled Yin Zhongxuan's hand and insisted on giving Zhaowan a formal name, making her be called "Zhaowan."

At that time, to ease the old lady's passing, Yin Zhongxuan agreed casually. No one took it seriously, except herself. She quietly remembered this new name.

But three months after that name appeared, this contract with her name was delivered to the Yin family.

"Finished reading?"

Yin Zhongxuan's voice carried impatience. He snatched back the contract, as if afraid she would discover some secret if she looked any longer.

"You will marry in three months," he said, turning away. "During this time, you will move to Zhaoyue's courtyard. I will hire a special teacher to teach you etiquette, so you won't disgrace the Yin family at the Duke's mansion."

Zhaowan knelt on the ground, not moving.

"Whose name is really on the contract?" she asked softly, her voice clear in the hall.

Yin Zhongxuan's back stiffened. He did not turn around, but coldly tossed out a line: "That is not your concern. You only need to remember that from now on, you are the 'second miss' of the Yin family, the Duchess. As for the name... it's just a label."

Madam Liu sneered: "Did you hear that? Go back and pack your things. With your background, marrying into the Qi family is like smoke rising from your ancestors' graves. If you dare to speak a single word out of turn, may your dead mother not rest in peace in the underworld!"

Zhaowan stood up, lowering her eyelids.

She did not "go back." She walked steadily, step by step, out of the main hall.

As she stepped over the threshold, the fine rain splashed onto her face again, a biting coldness. She wiped her face with her hand and found a vermillion mark on the back of her hand—no, it was the cinnabar from the seal of the contract that had gotten on her hand.

Strangely, the cinnabar would not come off. It seemed to have taken root on her skin, bright red, making her skin look even paler.

————

Moving to Yin Zhaoyue's side courtyard did not bring a qualitative improvement to Zhaowan's life.

On the contrary, she felt an unprecedented oppression. Although Yin Zhaoyue no longer openly mocked her as before, her gaze, as if looking at a "soon-to-be-dead person," made Zhaowan feel worse than mockery.

The Yin family hired a special etiquette teacher to teach her. How to bow, how to speak, how to walk without her skirt moving even a little.

Zhaowan learned quickly—so quickly that even the harsh etiquette teacher showed surprise.

But every night, sitting alone in that room filled with the scent of cosmetics and suffocating her, Zhaowan would unconsciously reach under her pillow for the jade pendant.

It was the only relic her grandmother left her.

It was a piece of white jade, not of the best quality, somewhat yellowed. But the jade was warm, and the pattern carved on it...

Zhaowan studied the lines under the faint moonlight.

It was the same spider lily as on the marriage contract.

"Zhaowan."

That sentence her grandmother said on her deathbed echoed in her mind again.

"One day, someone will come to claim you."At that time, Zhaowan thought her grandmother wanted her to be recognized by the family, to be truly acknowledged as Yin Zhongxuan's daughter.

But now, looking at the pitch-black night sky outside the window and the faint outline of the castle emerging in the darkness, a chilling fear she had never felt before rose in her heart.

Was that person... really coming to "acknowledge" her?

Or was this merely a three-hundred-year-long trap revolving around a "name"?

She looked down at the vermilion mark on the back of her hand that she could never wipe off. Under the moonlight, the mark seemed to emit a faint warmth.

She recalled the date on the marriage contract.

The 42nd year of Kangxi.

That was an era far too distant from the 16th year of the Republic of China—an era that existed only in history books and operas.

Why did such a date appear on that brand-new marriage contract, which still bore the scent of ink and blood?

Zhaowan did not know. All she knew was that she had no way out.

Escape? Where could she go? An illegitimate daughter without identity, without a single coin, not even listed in the family genealogy—in these chaotic times, leaving the Yin family would only lead to death.

If she didn't escape...

She caressed the jade pendant again.

It seemed to still hold the warmth of her grandmother's fingertips.

"Come to acknowledge you..."

Zhaowan closed her eyes, a cold tear sliding down her cheek.

She wasn't grieving for herself. She was grieving for that name.

Yin Zhaowan.

That name, which had only belonged to her for three months, yet seemed to have already borne three hundred years of sin.

——

Three months passed swiftly amid the Yin family's frantic preparations.

During this time, Yin Zhaowan did not see Yin Zhongxuan again. He seemed to be deliberately avoiding this daughter, or perhaps he was busy speculating in Beiping's business circles, leveraging this marriage resembling a union with royalty.

Until the night before her wedding.

Yin Zhongxuan pushed open the door to Zhaowan's room.

Zhaowan was sitting in front of the mirror, letting several maids apply thick layers of powder to her face. The powder was too white, as white as a lifeless mask.

"Leave us."

With a wave of his hand, the maids filed out.

Only father and daughter remained in the room.

Yin Zhongxuan looked at his daughter in the mirror—so familiar yet so strange. Zhaowan had changed into a red wedding gown embroidered with intricate gold patterns. It was hastily made, and though magnificent, it hung loosely on her frail figure.

"Zhaowan."

Yin Zhongxuan began, his tone carrying a rare weariness. "Tomorrow you will marry into the Qi family. There are things your father must tell you."

Zhaowan did not turn around; her gaze, through the mirror, calmly met his.

"Duke Qi... is not an ordinary man. The Qi family has stood in Beiping for three hundred years, with unfathomable power. Once you marry into the family, you must keep your place. Don't ask what you shouldn't, don't look at what you shouldn't."

He paused, stepped closer, and lowered his voice. "And about your name. If the Duke asks, just say... you have always been called by this name. Understand?"

Zhaowan looked at her father in the mirror. His eyes flickered—the typical sign of a businessman lying.

"Father," she said softly, "what are you afraid of?"

Yin Zhongxuan's face changed color. He turned around abruptly. "What could I be afraid of! I'm doing this for your own good, for the good of our Yin family! If you mess up in front of the Duke, not only will you die, but our entire family will be buried with you!"

He stormed out.

As the door closed, Zhaowan gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

The powdered face looked gloomy under the lamplight.

She raised her hand and gently touched the vermilion mark on the back of her hand.

That patch of skin was burning hot.

She lowered her gaze to the dowry list still lying on the desk. The first item on the list was not jewelry or property.

It was a yellowed, neatly folded piece of old paper.

Zhaowan picked up the paper.

It was a crumpled newspaper clipping she had secretly retrieved from her grandmother's belongings. The clipping was very old; the paper was brittle, nearly crumbling at the touch.

The headline consisted of just one line:

"Duke Qi Lives in Seclusion, Three-Century-Old Betrothal Still Unfulfilled"

Below that line was a blurry photograph. It showed a corner of the castle, with a dark tower seemingly piercing the sky.

And at the top of the tower, a faint figure stood.

Zhaowan stared at the silhouette.

Suddenly, she remembered that before her grandmother died, she had grasped her hand and not only said, "Someone will come to acknowledge you."

In the final moment of her last breath, her grandmother had leaned close to her ear and, in a voice hoarse as if from the abyss, whispered the last five words.

At that time, she thought it was delirium and paid no attention.

But now, on this night before the wedding, with the red candles flickering, those five words drove into her mind like five icy spikes.

Zhaowan stared at the blurry photo. The last five words that had rolled in her grandmother's dying throat now struck her mind like five red-hot icy spikes:

"Don't... let him... mistake."

Mistake? Who would mistake? Was it that the reclusive Duke would mistake her for Zhaoyue, or... was there a trap hidden behind this name, one suffocating enough to strangle the living?

Zhaowan lowered her gaze to her own slender hand. The vermilion sealing wax from the marriage contract that had stained her skin now seemed to come alive under the candlelight, seeping along her veins into a dark, almost pulsating blood color.

She rubbed it hard with her other hand, the skin turning red and raw, but the vermilion seemed to have seeped into her bones.

Outside the window, the autumn rain in Beiping suddenly stopped. A sickly, blood-red crescent moon hung in the sky.

The castle's tower loomed in the shadow of the distant mountains like a great beast baring its fangs, silently waiting for its sacrifice. And Yin Zhaowan was the sole offering, her very name already engraved on the altar.