Sweet Wife in My Arms Chapter 1: I Live for You

Translator: Larbre Studio Editor: Larbre Studio

Inside a shadowy room, a woman thrashed wildly against multiple doctors clad in white coats who pinned her firmly. Her eyes protruded hugely, her face sallow and shriveled, making her nearly impossible to identify: this was Yan Huan, the once-famous and beloved movie star.

“Not like this is your first time, is it?” the maid sneered, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her gaze lingered on Yan Huan’s belly, now visibly swelling. “You better not move, or you’ll lose your blood, and your baby, too. If that happens, you’ll be useless to us, and you can kiss goodbye to your privileged position as Mrs. Lu. Why else do you think we’re feeding you?”

“Err...” All at once, a huge needle pierced into Yan Huan. She balled her fist tightly, directing the blood flow into the needle as the warm fluid drained from her body.

As soon as they obtained the required blood, the doctors scurried off. The maid stayed behind instead of departing with them; she approached to inspect the ashen, bloodless features of the woman sprawled on the bed.

“Movie star my ass.” She spat right onto Yan Huan’s face. “Look at you, the only role you can play now is that of a corpse. Never understood what the young master saw in that wretched face of yours in the first place. Disgusting.”

The door slammed shut next, marking the final noise before the room plunged into pitch-black quiet.

With a trembling hand, Yan Huan wiped the revolting spit from her face. She then sank back into immobility—enduring each passing day in wait for death, powerless to bring it upon herself.

Her hands gently cupped her belly. I’m not afraid. I have you, I still have you...

The entertainment world stood as the harshest battlefield known, yet even its savagery paled against the man who once claimed to love her.

The TV broadcasted this year’s Academy Awards event.

Tears of happiness streamed down as a man and woman clung to each other in joy. Clearly, they had clinched Best Actor and Best Actress honors at the prestigious international ceremony. This triumph further skyrocketed their fame—they were now global superstar icons.

Yes, the superstars of their era: her husband and his lover.

Yan Huan fixed a icy glare on the embracing pair onscreen, her complexion deathly pale. Though just 27, she seemed drained and aged beyond her years, like someone in her thirties. Her skin had lost all radiance long ago, exacerbated by the deep crow’s feet etched around her eyes. She gripped the couch fiercely, veins swelling on the backs of her hands while her knuckles blanched white. Her stunning eyes, formerly vacant and deadened, flared with intense loathing before calming into stoic defiance.

She dropped her gaze to the faint swell of her abdomen.

“My child, you know what? There are no good people in this world.”

Snatching the remote, she smashed the mute button harder than required, abruptly silencing the TV voices.

She had submitted. After the early fits of madness, frenzy, and wild hysterics, she yielded to her destiny. No longer shrieking for rescue or causing scenes. She resigned herself to this 20-square-meter prison as her permanent home. This defined her existence now.

The room held just one television, forever replaying clips of the superstar couple’s romance. What of me? She laughed until tears cascaded down. What became of her?

Such was Yan Huan: a fallen movie star vanished into obscurity, Lu Qin’s wife, and a ghost to the outside world.

Or maybe they had never viewed her as human to begin with.

Why keep enduring this existence? Merely so they could plunder her blood every few days?

She stroked her belly tenderly, her lips quivering as she whispered, “Maybe I only live for you.”

It defied belief that Yan Huan had once been the brightest rising star in acting, retiring voluntarily at the zenith of her career.