Free to Read

A high fever left my sister intellectually disabled.

But she’d been beautiful since she was little.

After I got into university, I sold her first time to my rich roommate, and her second to the student council president.

Both came away looking thoroughly satisfied.

“She’s an idiot, but she’s something else.”

Thanks to those two, I sailed through university and found a way to stay in the big city after graduation.

As for my sister, she couldn’t even speak properly.

Sacrificing herself for me was only right.

Just as I was making a push for an even better position, my parents called.

“Good news.

Your sister’s recovered.”

I got up in the middle of the night to wipe the condensation off the window—and suddenly saw comments floating before my eyes: [Why’s the sleeping wife awake?

The male lead’s downstairs in the garden, coaxing our sweet girl!]

[Please don’t catch them!

I’m waiting for him to get some right under his wife’s nose!]

[The sleeping wife mustn’t wake up!]

Without changing my expression, I breathed on the window to fog it up again, then turned and lay down.

Mustn’t wake up?

I’d never truly been asleep.

Shen Zhuo posted a video of me stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Every rich boy who had ever pursued me was in that group chat.

He had faked cancer to ruin my grades before the college entrance exam, and he was waiting for me to give up on him.

Instead, I produced another three hundred thousand yuan to save his life.

Then someone sent a message to the wrong group: Mianmian knew the truth, yet she had sold her apartment for him.

As the messages vanished one by one, Shen Zhuo turned deathly pale in his hospital bed.

There was a fool in my village who was always muttering: “Rock, scissors, cloth…”

The order had to be right.

If anyone got it wrong, he flew into a rage.

One day, a body turned up in the abandoned mud-brick house beside mine.

Even I became a suspect.

When the police carried the body out, it was still wrapped tightly in coarse cloth.

But when the fool saw it, his muttering changed to: “Cloth!

Cloth!

Cloth…”

I thought I understood why his rock, scissors, cloth had to come in that order.

In my third year trapped inside a novel, the emperor learned to watch livestreams—and struck up an online flirtation with a thirst-trap streamer.

He even promised her: “Come over to this world, and you can be my empress!”

“Remember, bring your body.

No possessing someone else’s.”

I took one look at her username, “Will Fly Anywhere in the Country,” and spent the night packing my escape bag.

People from the modern world were crawling with viruses.

One sneeze could wipe out the whole palace.

And this woman was a prostitute!

Jiang Yue was the stand-in my family had chosen to bear my misfortunes.

She ate and slept beside me, raised as though she were the marquis’s second legitimate daughter.

She won Grandmother’s favor and Father’s affection, and she and my fiancé fell in love.

Only when she urged Pei Yu to push me into the fire did I learn that she was the cherished daughter of Father’s mistress.

I had been the one bearing her misfortunes all along.

She took my place, inherited my mother’s dowry, and married into the Duke of Yan’s household.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day she was first brought to our estate.

She took my hand and promised to protect me.

I was an abandoned child, and a blessed girl revered in every village for miles around.

Whenever a woman became pregnant, all I had to do was touch her belly, and she would have a son.

People were overjoyed.

But little by little, they stopped rejoicing…

I took a concubine for my husband.

The concubine was tall and long-legged, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and extraordinary beauty.

My husband nearly lost his mind.

Because when the concubine pulled it out, it was bigger than his.

The prince’s heir acquired a famous sword.

A fine sword deserved a beautiful woman.

My looks earned me the position of his sword-bearing maid.

Later, he took me to Taicang for the Sword Trials.

Someone saw me and remarked, “Baseborn to the bone.”

Everyone roared with laughter.

Only years later did they understand.

What the man had actually said was, “Blade-born to the bone.”

I was born untamable.

After my parents died, I was passed from one relative to another.

At every house, I beat up the entire family—even the dog got a couple of slaps.

Then a delicate noblewoman adopted me and offered the perfect deal: food, a home, and permission to beat anyone except her and her cat.

Her household full of unruly adopted children never stood a chance.

Neither did the capital’s arrogant young nobles.

But her beautiful, sickly son might just be the one person who wants to shelter my sharp edges instead of putting them to use.