Drama

In my third year of disguising myself as a man and sneaking into the Prince’s Mansion to work as a guard, I got involved with the prince’s male favorite.

I had meant to cut things off with him and sever all ties for good.

But whenever he took my hand during our secret meetings, my resolve would crumble.

And just like that, spineless and useless as I was, I committed a capital offense.

After announcing his marriage at a concert, the top-tier singer suddenly broke down in tears.

It was because he had just received news of my death.

Zhou Yan. We met at six and said our goodbyes at twenty-four.

I never had the courage to tell you that I truly, deeply loved you.

Before my fiancé, Cui Ning, left for his long journey, he gave me a harsh scolding.

It was because I wanted to borrow thirty-three taels of silver from him to buy back my mother’s keepsake, a paulownia qin.

He accepted my promissory note and recorded the debt in his ledger, yet he refused to give me the money.

“Xiaoyu, you don’t even know how to play the instrument. What’s the point of buying it?” He added, “Besides, thirty-three taels is enough to buy two of you.”

This winter, I had spent my days on the pleasure boats, combing the hair of the older sisters and doing their laundry, only to painstakingly save up a single tael.

But the instrument shop couldn’t wait any longer.

They said someone else had their eye on the instrument and it would be sold the day after tomorrow.

When I returned to the Cui Family home wiping away my tears, Matchmaker Liu saw my red eyes and tried to persuade me again with a kindly expression.

“The Shen family is sincere about their proposal. Don’t even mention mountains of gold or silver-you only need to ask.” She continued, “They said that even if you wanted the stars or the moon from the sky, they would pluck them down for you.”

I thought about what Cui Ning had said-that thirty-three taels was a massive sum of money, enough to buy two of me.

Afraid that the Shen family would be unwilling, I dried my tears and asked cautiously: “I don’t want the stars, and I don’t want the moon.”

“I want a paulownia qin. It costs thirty-three taels of silver.”

I was born face-blind, yet the crown prince of Beijing’s elite circle had always stood by me.

Until one day, when I overheard him talking about me with his friends.

“A whole month, and she still hasn’t noticed. Shen Jin, you’ve really got talent.”

“But your girlfriend looks like she’s close to figuring it out. Shouldn’t we switch back?”

In the corner, the man called Shen Jin pinched a cigarette between his fingers and shook his head.

“I’m afraid that won’t work. Yin-yin is still waiting for me to come home for dinner.”

I stood in the doorway and sighed, disappointed that I wouldn’t be getting someone new after all.

I had already grown tired of sleeping with both of them.

My sister was beautiful and brilliant, always effortlessly winning people over.

Compared to her, my plain self was like a timid little mouse.

My parents used to say, “How can you even compare yourself to your sister?”

My childhood friend said, “Jiajia and you don’t look like sisters.”

I asked him, “Then what do we look like instead?”

Sniffling, he replied:

“Like a princess and her maid.”

That was until I met Cen Yi.

My parents were clinging to my sister, introducing her to his family and boasting about how exceptional their daughter was.

I stood off to the side, stealing glances at the cookies on the table.

But he bypassed everyone else and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Mine,”

he said.

I was doing fortune-telling on livestream when I connected to Qin Shi Huang.

“I wish to know what became of my Great Qin in the end,” he asked.

I opened a history book.

“After your death, Zhao Gao and Li Si joined forces to put Hu Hai on the throne, then forced Prince Fu Su to take his own life.

“One year after your death, chaos swept the realm, and Liu Bang and Xiang Yu rose in rebellion against Qin.

“Three years after your death, the Qin dynasty fell.”

The more Qin Shi Huang listened, the angrier he became. He raised his hand and smacked Hu Hai, who was playing with mud off to the side, twice upside the head.

“Look at the mess you made!”

One month after I died.

My childhood friend, the top celebrity I had long since cut ties with, did something completely out of character.

He canceled every job and shut himself away to write music.

In the end, he bid farewell to the music industry with a song called I Miss Her.

Everyone said he must have gone insane to give up such a dazzling future.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on New Year’s Eve, at the height of my fame.

The host prompted me as part of the program, asking me to call someone and wish them a Happy New Year.

Without the slightest hesitation, I dialed his number.

His voice trembled on the other end.

“Happy New Year to you too.”

This time, I want to live toward hope.

Seven years after my body was stolen from me, I finally succeeded in taking it back.

By then, “she” had already used my body to get married and become pregnant.

Without hesitation, I filed for divorce and terminated the pregnancy.

The news of my sudden divorce shot to the top of the trending searches, but I couldn’t have cared less.

My only priority was finding my lover, the man who had been left battered and broken in my absence.

During school, Yu Sili was dazzling, the center of everyone’s admiration.

The only one he liked was me.

He spoiled me beyond measure, but when we broke up, I shattered all his pride, nearly costing him his life.

He hated me for five years.

Later, we met again.

Yu Sili had become a top star, with a beautiful fiancée.

Someone asked him, “In your school days, did you ever love someone so much it tore you apart?”

He smiled and said, “Never.”

When I was forced to propose to Pei Zhan, I saw his group chat:

[If she dares bring up marriage, I’ll dump her on the spot.]

I blinked, and my heart suddenly soared.

Every one of Pei Zhan’s ex-girlfriends had received a hefty breakup settlement.

I had waited three years.

Finally, it was my turn.