Romance

After starting high school, I was taken in by the Xu Family.

The Xu family had a golden boy, Xu Ge, whom I secretly admired for three whole years.

But in Xu Ge’s heart, there was a perfect white moonlight.

The day his white moonlight went abroad, he sat red-eyed in a dim bar corridor for an entire night.

That night, the rain was pouring.

I left my only umbrella at the corner, then quietly slipped away.

Many years later, Xu Ge and I crossed paths again at a gathering.

I was there to pick up a friend who was dead drunk.

Through the smoky haze, a man in a gray hoodie nonchalantly pushed open the door, still surrounded by a flock of girls.

I watched for a moment, pretended not to recognize him, lowered my gaze, and left. Outside, the rain was pouring, and I stood at the door fretting.

Just then, an umbrella was handed to me from behind.

The hand holding it had a pale, strong wrist.

The man in the hoodie spoke softly: “Ruan He. “This umbrella of yours-you left it with me all those years ago.”

I got bitten by a dog, went to get a rabies shot, and ran into my ex-boyfriend. On my inner thigh, there wasn’t just a bite mark; there was also a tattoo of his name. He let out a derisive snicker. “Still haven’t had it removed?” “Is my name really that unforgettable to you?”

When I was born, the stars showed an omen so strange that the Imperial Observatory calculated until dawn broke at the edge of the sky, yet still could not reach a conclusion.

The National Preceptor, who had lived for more than two hundred years, descended from Tianxuan Pavilion and left behind a single prophecy for me.

“This child will kill the current emperor.”

My father dropped to his knees in terror, kowtowing to his imperial father and begging him to spare my life.

The emperor held me in his arms-his newborn granddaughter, bound to him by blood-and was silent for a very long time.

In the sixteenth year of Shunhe, my imperial grandfather was forty-nine years old, and learned his fate ahead of time.

I am the dowry maid for the legitimate daughter of the Shen Manor.

Last night, I woke up in the Heir’s bed.

Now, the servants of the entire manor are pointing and whispering at me: “A lowly wench like this deserves to be beaten to death with clubs!”

Shen Yujiao sat regally at the head of the hall. “In that case, let’s just promote her to a Concubine.”

She watched with a smile as I knelt and kowtowed to thank her for her mercy.

Yet, I caught the scent of Hehuan Powder in the air.

That was the very incense I had blended with my own hands for her husband’s use.

While recovering from an illness in Jiangnan, I had a brief, passionate affair with a scholar.

When it was time for me to return to the capital, I left him a hundred ounces of gold and a letter.

“My mother doesn’t approve of our marriage. It’s better if we part ways.” Two years later, he earned honors in the imperial examinations.

When we met again, his face was clouded with a dark, brooding intensity.

“Was the ‘mother’ you spoke of actually your mother-in-law?”

I was the concubine Madam forced on the General.

She was testing whether his heart had strayed.

He remained perfectly unmoved and ordered me to copy scriptures all night to prove his devotion.

And me? My hand ached. So did my heart.

Before our wedding invitations could even be written, I was pinned down onto the Core-extraction Platform.

When the tip of Ning Changye’s sword pierced my chest, he suddenly coughed up blood before I did.

Only then did the entire sect see his Life Thread wrapped around my wrist.

But what they didn’t know was that if I failed to survive the next seven days, the Demon Abyss would tear open-and the person who truly deserved to die was still standing on the high platform, watching me with a smile.

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.

The first time I went to a nightclub after starting university, I ran into the neighbor who had disappeared a year ago.

He had his arms around two scantily-clad beauties, looking like a total delinquent.

When he saw me, his gaze flickered across my chest before he let out a soft, dismissive “tsk.” Later, he pinned me against a corner. His finger pressed against my lips as he leaned down, demanding I call his name. It was only then that it dawned on me. He wasn’t my Zhou Yanzhi.

I am the best cook in the capital. No one has ever said my food was bad.

That is, until my noble ex-fiancé-the one who broke off our engagement-ate a meal I prepared.

“This tastes awful. It’s a good thing I didn’t marry you.”

I calmly packed away the bowls and chopsticks. “It’s your Last Meal Before Execution. You’re still being picky?”

That’s right. I am a cook who specializes in delivering the Last Meal Before Execution to death row prisoners.