Historical

Chapter 0

Pei Qian forgot me. All because, on the eve of our wedding, he got drunk, took a fall, and forgot he was supposed to take a bride. Was I to believe that, or not?

Naturally, I believed it with the utmost gratitude. Since he had forgotten me, my marriage to him could be written off in one stroke.

I packed up my money and dowry. Boling was no longer an option, so for the time being, I settled down in Hedong.

If my father had not died so early, I feared I never would have come anywhere near the gates of the Pei Family.

My father died after taking elixirs and running naked through the streets. Everyone praised him for being romantic and unrestrained-a true eminent gentleman!

He had only been a concubine-born son of a collateral branch of the Cui Clan, yet within a few days of his death, he had somehow become the pride of the Cui Clan.

For a time, the worth of my sisters and me rose with the tide. The great aristocratic families all came asking for our hands. Mother even forgot to fake her tears. Every day, she beamed with joy as she received one guest and sent off another.

This world had gone mad, and so had the people in it.

After much careful selection, Mother chose Pei Qian, the Second Young Master of the Pei Clan of Hedong, for me.

Everyone said he was elegant, graceful, wild, and unrestrained-the foremost romantic figure of Great Wei.

At that, I thought of my father, sprinting along with all that pale flesh jiggling in the wind.

I despised these so-called eminent gentlemen from the bottom of my heart.

As it turned out, he would rather change his name and identity than marry me. Excellent. That suited me perfectly.

In the year of famine, disaster fell upon our entire village.

My little brother was so hungry he no longer had the strength to cry, yet his small belly was swollen tight and shiny.

Mother held him in her arms and sat on the threshold, motionless, like a clay idol that had lost its soul.

In the pot was Guanyin clay boiled in clear water. Eating it made your stomach swell, and then you couldn’t pass it.

“Girl…” Father finally spoke. “Don’t blame your mother and me for being cruel… In the palace, in the palace there’ll at least be a mouthful of food.”

When the human trafficker came in, he brought with him a gust of dry, cold wind.

“She’s decent-looking enough, just a bit too thin and weak.

“Three pecks of millet. Not a grain more.”

I saw Father’s hand trembling violently as he pressed his handprint onto that sheet of paper.

Three pecks of golden-yellow millet were poured into the only broken grain jar in our home, making a soft rustling sound.

It was such a beautiful sound-the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

My little brother would probably live through this winter.

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.

I worked as a maid at Marquis Manor for ten years. Then, simply because the young lady lost a Peach Blossom Hairpin, I was driven out of the household.

In the blink of an eye, many years passed. I had nearly let go of all the grudges and grievances between me and Marquis Manor.

But to my surprise, one night, the young lady of Marquis Manor knelt before me in utter disarray, begging me to take her in.

Her husband’s family had cast her out. In all the vast world, she had nowhere left to go.

And now, I was the only person she could turn to.

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.

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.

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.”

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!”

Because I was beautiful, my foster father adopted me.

Because I was strong, he gave me to the Ninth Prince.

Unfortunately, the very next day, the Ninth Prince was thrown into the Imperial Prison for treason.

I asked the Ninth Prince if he wanted to break out.

The Ninth Prince looked utterly despondent. “The iron prison has layer upon layer of bars. Even with wings, there would be no escape.”

That very night, the Imperial Prison was razed to the ground. The Ninth Prince vanished without wings, disappearing from the capital.

After five years of marrying into my family, my penniless scholar husband passed the imperial exam-and suddenly decided I, his butcher wife, reeked of grease and blood.

For half a month, he hemmed and hawed and refused to do his husbandly duties.

So I used the silver I’d earned selling pork to buy him two ink sticks and a ream of fine paper, then scraped together the last of my coins for a tiny bar of scented soap.

When I made it home through the rain, the big yellow dog under the eaves had one of the meat dumplings I’d wrapped dangling from its mouth.

From inside the house came a coy, wheedling voice.

“Father, the magistrate’s daughter smells so nice. Not like Mother.”

“And these pastries taste better than meat dumplings too.”

I took all the bits and pieces I’d hidden against my chest and threw them out-along with the father and son.

When Zheng Huaishu signed the divorce papers, he held our son in his arms and glared at me with resentment.

All the neighbors in the village laughed at me for letting a future official go.

The very next day, the matchmaker introduced me to a fair, slender stutterer.

A little girl trailed behind him.

Father and daughter gave me timid looks.

I asked irritably, “How often can you do your husbandly duties?”

“And how much meat will you eat in a day?”

The stutterer’s face turned bright red. The matchmaker yanked his clothes down over half his shoulder, and he said in a slow, gentle voice, “As long as my child gets a mouthful of rice… as her father, I’ll do anything…”