Comedy

I was a Little Blind One, and I met an Old Swindler.

To keep ourselves fed, the two of us pretended to be Daoist priests, making a living by conning our way into wealthy households.

That day, the General’s Mansion put up a notice seeking someone with profound magical power to enter the estate and catch a ghost.

The two of us gritted our teeth and immediately decided to go big or go home!

Who would have thought that, inside the General’s Mansion, more people died with each passing day?

Oh my god. There really was a ghost.

The Old Swindler trembled as he shielded me behind him.

The malicious ghost’s shriek pierced our eardrums.

Silently, I formed a hand seal. “Gather the baleful qi of heaven and earth, thunder descend!!”

Old Swindler: “??? Wait, you actually know how?!”

To scrape together the money for my younger brother’s treatment, my father sold me to Yihong Tower.

On the eve of the day I was going to be forced to receive clients, Miss Zhao bought me.

Miss Zhao is my benefactor.

If she tells me to stab someone, I immediately sharpen the knife first.

If she tells me to set a fire, I ask her whether ten barrels of lamp oil will be enough.

If she tells me to go on a matchmaking date in her place…

Huh??

My eyes went as wide as bronze bells, and I asked Miss Zhao in horror, “What if Young Master Pei takes a liking to me?”

I was scammed by a real estate agent into moving into a Columbarium. To my surprise, the place was already occupied by a handsome, young, and tsundere ghost. When I took a closer look, I was even more shocked-it turned out we were old acquaintances.

I am the best cook in the capital. No one has ever said my food was bad.

That is, until my noble ex-fiancé-the one who broke off our engagement-ate a meal I prepared.

“This tastes awful. It’s a good thing I didn’t marry you.”

I calmly packed away the bowls and chopsticks. “It’s your Last Meal Before Execution. You’re still being picky?”

That’s right. I am a cook who specializes in delivering the Last Meal Before Execution to death row prisoners.

The year I turned seventeen, my wealthy birth parents brought me home.

They hemmed and hawed before saying, “You also have a twin brother and a younger sister, but they…”

Judging by their attitude, I understood at once.

My brother and sister probably weren’t going to welcome me.

But in the next second, the door was pushed open, and a flamboyant figure strode in.

His hair was dyed a bright red, and he said with cheerful swagger, “So this is my little sis, huh? I dyed my hair red just to celebrate you coming home. Festive enough for you?”

Behind him followed a little girl with side-swept bangs, holding pomelo leaves, a peachwood sword, and yellow talismans.

“Sis, I got these from a master specially for you. They’ve even been consecrated. They’ll drive away all your bad luck!”

“…”

Every family has its own difficult story. Mine had two volumes.

If you read a lot of historical romance novels, then I’m sure you’re familiar with this scene: An assassin draws his blade and lunges at the male lead.

At the critical moment, the female lead rushes forward and takes the stab for him.

She collapses into his arms, and he cries her name in panic…

When I transmigrated, this exact scene was unfolding.

You think I was the female lead? Nope.

And of course, I wasn’t the male lead either. I was the assassin.

After the college entrance exams ended, students leaving the test site were interviewed and asked how they felt in that moment.

A handsome boy with eyes like stars and moonlight looked into the camera and said calmly, “I only hope to realize my dreams.”

A moment later, he added in a low voice, “And meet the rainbow in my heart.”

The camera cut to a girl with dimples and a smile as bright as a blooming flower. A rainbow hair clip pinned in her hair caught the light in tiny, glittering sparks.

She stuck out her tongue playfully. “Oh no, I think I might not get into Q University! If I end up having to repeat the year, Pei Zhiyu, you have to wait for me!”

Pei Zhiyu was the person I liked.

But I was not that beautiful girl.

When that interview aired, I was hiding at home, sobbing my heart out because I had bombed the college entrance exams.

It looked like my life and my first love were both about to be completely over.

After I died, my bones became the sword in his hand.

Little did he know that I rarely exercised while I was alive, and I’d developed osteoporosis at a young age.

The sword forged from my bones was sharp enough, but it lacked resilience.

The very first time he used me, someone lopped off his head.

I transmigrated into a tragic romance novel as the female lead’s sister.

In the original plot, I spent my time abusing her daughter while simultaneously trying to seduce her husband.

Ultimately, I groomed her daughter to become the next generation’s tragic heroine, while I met a miserable end myself-tossed into the ocean to feed the fish.

Now, looking at the innocent Little Bean Bun standing before me, I said: “If you love suffering, you’ll have a never-ending supply of it. So, do you want to swallow that bitter pill, or are you going to speak up for yourself?”

“Go up there and give him a piece of your mind. If you win the argument, I’ll buy you a burger; if you lose, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“What? You’re afraid to win? Do you really love being a perpetual runner-up that much? You don’t have to be number one, but you can’t settle for second best, and you certainly can’t be a pushover.”

“Your mother brought you into this world to enjoy life, not to suffer. Go compete, go grab what’s yours, and be brave! Go get ’em, baby!”

On the night I married Lu Boya, my buddies warned me, “Professor Lu is a refined scholar with a delicate constitution. You’d better be gentle with him!”

I gave them a ferocious grin. “Gentle? Not happening. This lady has plenty of strength-and plenty of tricks!”

The next day, my voice was hoarse and my eyes were swollen as I shouted at Lu Boya, who stood there in a crisp suit and gold-rimmed glasses.

“Liar!”

Refined scholar? Delicate constitution? All lies!