Romance

A mistaken phone call makes Si Yun order her distant contract husband, Huo Jingheng, to come home before she locks the door.

He obeys—and after an illness brings them closer, the cold businessman discovers how much he wants her care, her rules, and a real marriage.

But meddling parents, a proposed heiress, and the fragile terms of their agreement force them to decide whether their marriage is still a transaction or the home they have both been missing.

I paid a fortune to reserve an incubus with advanced skills and excellent stamina, only to receive a defective product named Mo Heng-one who was obsessed with my younger sister and thought I was disgusting.

The brand informed me that disobedient incubus units were never resold; they were destroyed. After I agreed to an exchange, a new high-grade incubus, Jin, came to my side and uncovered the truth: my sister, Sun Zhenni, and Mo Heng had conspired to set me up.

Since they both took my tolerance for granted, it was time they paid the price of being destroyed.

The man who had been sleeping in a separate room from me for the past six months was standing there with a pillow in his arms when I blocked him at the top of the stairs.

“The two of us together aren’t even fifty yet. We’re at the age when we should be all over each other. Is sleeping in separate rooms normal?”

He frowned at me, staring so hard that cold sweat prickled down my spine.

At last, he nodded. “Mm. It isn’t very normal.” Emboldened, I snatched the pillow out of his arms and grumbled, “You never used to be like this.”

“What did I use to be like?”

“You used to hold me every night when we slept, and before bed you’d call me your little baby.”

“…Did I?”

“You did!”

Look at me. Do these look like the eyes of a liar?

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.

I was a peasant woman whose child had died. At night, my breasts would swell until the pain was unbearable, but I was afraid my husband and mother-in-law would scold me, so I could only go out to the ridges between the fields alone to relieve myself.

I never expected to come across a man lying gravely wounded by the roadside.

He kept rasping, “Thirsty… so thirsty…”

I couldn’t help myself, so I let him have a mouthful of milk.

Later, I went to the General’s Mansion to serve as the Young Master’s wet nurse.

The Young Master was naughty and refused to drink.

I glanced at the Young General beside me and teased him.

“Young Master, if you still won’t drink, I’ll give it to your elder brother instead.”

That night, in a daze, I heard the Young General talking to the Young Master.

“Little ancestor, are you drinking or not? At least make a sound!”

After being bullied by the prettiest girl in class for three years.

I did something vile: I used her photos to start an online relationship with a rich second-generation heir.

He was gentle and polite, generous with money. His only flaw was that his desires were a little too intense.

Before long, relying on sweet talk, I got four years’ worth of college tuition out of him.

On the day I decided to break up with him, I asked as if it had only just occurred to me:

“Baby, if I suddenly disappeared, what would you do?”

He gave a soft laugh, his tone dangerous. “Babe, don’t make jokes like that. I don’t like it.”

I didn’t cave to pressure. I deleted him on my end.

Later, by sheer coincidence, the prettiest girl in class and I ended up interning at the same tech company.

On our first day, we happened to run into the big boss from headquarters coming down for an inspection.

I stood at the very back of the crowd, but when I looked up, I saw a face that was unbearably familiar.

Before I could even react,

I saw the man’s gaze land on the prettiest girl in class.

His eyes lit up in an instant.

I’m a woman, but I transmigrated into the most useless marquis in the Marquis Manor.

The original host let his second wife frame the eldest daughter born to his first wife, then sent that little girl off to a country estate to suffer.

When the eldest daughter finally returned, he stole her engagement and gave it to the second daughter.

When the second daughter was abused, he didn’t say a damn word.

When the third daughter was framed, he simply married her off to her abuser.

When the fourth daughter was being coerced, he scolded her for trying to drive a wedge between the sisters.

When his young son ran wild outside, he finally took action.

But he only helped the wrongdoer and even gave the victim a good intimidation session.

Every single thing he did was basically aimed at wiping out the entire Marquis Manor.

In the end, he got his retribution too.

The young son he truly loved wasn’t even his biological child.

As for his daughters, some died, and some became estranged.

In the end, the eldest daughter, who became the Empress, exterminated the whole family.

Now that I’ve transmigrated here, I plan to apply myself, get things in order, and be a proper father.

But since I’m a woman, I really don’t want to sleep with women.

So I directly told my one wife and three concubines,

“This master has been medically confirmed impotent. Tell me, what do you think we should do about it?”

In my last life, I saved He Yan, the young master of a marquis manor.

He took me as his wife, and for a time, our marriage was the talk of Shangjing.

But I had been born and raised in the countryside.

My manners were crude, and my reputation gradually soured.

He Yan, too, slowly grew distant from me.

I wept day after day, and before I even reached thirty, I died in misery.

Given a second chance, I swore I would never live that way again.

Only, after eating wild greens for three days straight, I realized I simply could not let go of the marquis manor’s soy-braised pork knuckle, sticky rice chicken, crab roe lion’s head meatballs, scallion-fried lamb…

I hung from the city wall while the rebel leader taunted my husband.

“My lord, choose: your old love or your wife!”

Beside me, Li Yaoyao cried out with righteous resolve, “Sui’an, don’t worry about me!

Storm the city!

Tell the crown prince I’ll marry him in my next life!”

Two arrows whistled through the air.

The rebel holding Li Yaoyao at his mercy fell dead.

I watched in silence as Shen Sui’an and the crown prince came flying toward us.

Both crowded around Li Yaoyao.

Neither noticed that my rope had been cut.

I was a terrible stickler for the truth.

When my husband returned from war, he brought a woman home.

The moment she saw me, she dropped to her knees and declared that she wanted to marry the marquis, even if she could only be his concubine.

I said nothing at the time.

But after tossing and turning until midnight, I could bear it no longer and knocked on her door.

My husband wasn’t the marquis.

The marquis in this household was my widowed father-in-law; my husband was only his third son, born to a concubine.

Her dimming eyes suddenly lit up at the word widowed.