Fantasy

Fu Qiu had always accepted her lot in life.

When she was a child, a blind man read her fortune through bone-weighing and said her bones were light, her fate was lowly, and that in this life she could only sell her body.

As it happened, her family was going through hard times, so her father simply sold her to a brothel.

When she was still young and first put on display, the madam said that although she was beautiful, her face carried a pitiful, sorrowful look, and the customers she attracted would never be decent men.

Sure enough, every few days, she suffered another bout of abuse.

By middle age, her looks had withered, and she married a merchant. The neighbors said her thin lips and fox-like eyes meant she would never be the faithful sort.

Before long, rumors were flying everywhere. The merchant could not bear it, and on a rainy night, he drove her out of the house.

Even so, she never hated anyone. She only hated that her own fate was so poor.

As she lay on the verge of death, the Old Blind Man happened to pass by drunk, bragging to the crowd.

“Twenty years ago, I saw a little girl in another town. She was so young, but she already had the looks to topple a kingdom.

“So I pretended to be blind, did a bone-weighing for her, and told her she had a lowly fate-that in this life, she could only become a whore.

“And guess what? Her whole family believed me!”

Chapter 0

After my father beat me to death in a drunken rage, I was reborn as my grandmother’s best friend-an obstetrician-gynecologist.

Grandma asked anxiously, “Xiao Fang, is the baby healthy?”

I said, “It’s brain-damaged. I recommend aborting it.”

In the unluckiest year of my life, a wandering Daoist priest came to town.

He gave my father an idea: have me worship a Household Guardian Immortal to suppress my bad luck, and maybe I would live past the age of ten.

My father was a rough man who had made his fortune in troubled times by the barrel of a gun.

He called his adjutant over and did the math for him. “One Household Guardian Immortal keeps her alive to ten, two keep her alive to twenty, and twenty keep her alive to two hundred. Right?”

The adjutant counted on his fingers. “Marshal, your math is absolutely correct.”

My father hardened his heart and rounded up all the pigs, cattle, and sheep from miles around as offerings.

“My damn girl is going to live ten thousand years!”

That year, my father rode into the old mountain forest on a pig with me and took eleven Household Guardian Immortal into our household.

He flew into a rage. “Damn it, that’s still one short of the twelve zodiac animals!”

Later, who knew where he bought a Daoist boy from, but that made the twelfth.

I am the strongest NPC in a horror game, they call me the Ghost Bride.

I wear a Red Wedding Dress, swaying my crimson nails, wandering freely through the vast ancient mansion, unbound by the rules.

I enjoy watching the terror on the players’ faces and the screams they let out.

Until one day, a middle-aged woman saw my face clearly, neither terrified nor screaming.

She shed tears: “My dear, I am your mother.”

In order to win over the Tyrant Emperor, I slipped him an entire bottle of Obedience Potion.

Relying on the potion’s effects, I became utterly fearless.

Every day, I hogged the imperial bed, demanded that he coax me to sleep, and even drove away his most beloved noble consort.

Then the System appeared.

I was straddling the Tyrant Emperor’s waist, all too eager to show off.

“See? He’s as obedient as a puppy.”

The System fell silent.

Then the System screamed.

“Ancestor, you look more like a stupid dog with a death wish to me!”

“That cheap potion of yours only lasts for one day!”

My husband is someone who transmigrated into a novel.

What a coincidence. So am I.

He said, “I’m the protagonist of a male-oriented webnovel, so what I’ve gathered isn’t a harem, but various factions.”

I said, “I’m the protagonist of a female-oriented webnovel, so all those various factions of yours love me but can never have me.”

He said I was joking.

I burst out laughing. “You caught me. I was joking. The truth is, they’ve already had me.”

On the day I died, Xiao Xu was about to make another woman his empress.

He came to the Cold Palace, hoping I would swallow my pride and yield to him. What greeted him was only my ice-cold corpse.

For reasons no one could explain, Xiao Xu broke down. He did one deranged thing after another, and every day he wept blood before my grave.

In the end, he got his wish and was reborn a thousand years later.

In the twenty-first century, Xiao Xu and I were classmates.

He was still dazzling. Still exceptional.

He was looking for me.

But he didn’t know that I had been reborn too, with all my memories intact.

I transmigrated into a tragic romance world trapped in an endless cycle and became the city spirit of the Liang Kingdom.

Again and again, the heroine, Bai Ruohuan, leapt from the city wall.

Again and again, the emperor, Liang Qingci, marched toward the ruin of his nation.

At first, I only wanted to sit back and watch the spectacle unfold, but I was forced onto the stage to change their fate.

Alongside that cold-hearted, impassive emperor, I fought to survive through countless cycles, until at last I glimpsed the truth hidden behind Heaven’s Love Calamity.

Spending the night in an abandoned temple, I found a thin gauze handkerchief wreathed in fragrance. After nightfall, someone murmured beneath the window:

“My lady, have you perchance seen the handkerchief this humble scholar left behind?”

Through the crack in the door, the figure outside looked so ethereal that it seemed he might drift away on the wind at any moment.

At his words, I couldn’t help recalling the rumors about this place.

They said this temple had been abandoned for ages, and that seductive ghosts haunted the area. Any traveler who got entangled with them would either have their essence sucked dry or be dragged into another world, vanishing without a trace.

With that in mind, I hurriedly cracked open the window and tossed out the piece of cloth I had used to wipe the floor, the windowsill, and my stinky feet.

The other party caught it with lightning-fast reflexes.

Then he stared down at the gauze scarf in his hand, now crumpled and ruined like dried pickled greens, and fell into deep contemplation.

The year I turned eighteen, my mother took five taels of silver and married me off to Ji Songzhu, a man infamous far and wide for bringing death to his wives.

Before me, both of his previous wives had died of sudden illness three days before the wedding.