Short Story

“If you pass the scene of a car accident, don’t stare.”

“If someone tries to hitch a ride at midnight, don’t stop unless you have to.”

“And don’t think driving a big rig makes you so intimidating that trouble won’t come looking for you.”

Those were the warnings my Master gave me.

For more than ten years, I kept them close to heart.

But tonight, I made an exception.

At midnight, I came across a family of four trying to flag me down.

The moment the husband saw my headlights, he dropped to his knees at the roadside and kept kowtowing.

Their black sedan was sitting crookedly off to the side, as if it had broken down.

All four of them looked badly shaken. I let them climb into my truck.

Pale with fear, the husband told me that a strange red sports car had been chasing them along the mountain road just moments ago.

I told him not to worry. I was driving a heavy truck; no car would dare mess with me.

Just then, the radio began reporting a traffic accident. On the very stretch of mountain road we were driving along, a red sports car and a black sedan had been involved in a serious crash.

The driver of the red sports car had died at the scene.

In my first few years driving rigs, my master used to tell me that the main road could hold back evil.

So unless you absolutely had to, you should never leave the proper road, and you should never pay any attention to the “things” that stood outside the guardrails.

Lately, though, whenever I’m out on the road, I keep seeing my childhood friend-the one who’s already dead.

At first, he only stood beyond the guardrail, one leg raised stiffly.

But little by little, he managed to get that leg up onto the rail. Now half his body is leaning out over the highway.

At a construction site, five coffins were dug up-four with something inside, one empty. Strange things kept happening at the site.

In less than three days, two workers had already been sent to the hospital.

Someone had asked me to go there and haul the coffins away.

But the expert the site had hired kept blocking me at every turn, refusing to let me move them.

With a dark, sinister look, he told me: “These five coffins can’t be moved by anyone within seven days. Whoever moves them will be the one buried inside.”

A new junior sister arrived at the Demon-Slaying Bureau.

She was astonishingly talented, with an ethereal beauty that seemed untouched by the mortal world.

Everyone adored her.

Everyone said she was far better than me, her senior sister.

But what I saw was the Red Thread of her fate, tangled beyond repair, every strand of it tied to me.

Later, when my junior sister was wounded by a demon, she chose my fiancé to help purge the poison.

So I threw a demon in with her.

“Trust me, he won’t cut it. This one’s better. Guaranteed to purge the poison.”

When my junior sister came out, she drove her sword straight at me. I let out a soft laugh and caught her blade.

“That’s more like it. Now you finally look like a demon slayer.”

I was scammed by a real estate agent into moving into a Columbarium. To my surprise, the place was already occupied by a handsome, young, and tsundere ghost. When I took a closer look, I was even more shocked-it turned out we were old acquaintances.

When the master hosts a banquet, he often has beautiful women serve wine.

If a guest refuses to drink, the beauty is executed on the spot.

Unluckily, I am that unfortunate beauty.

Tonight’s guest of honor is an aloof and distinguished scholar, Yan Xuan.

First cup: he complained the wine was cold and wouldn’t drink. A sword swung, a head fell.

Second cup: he complained the server was vulgar and wouldn’t drink. Blood splattered on the spot.

By the third cup, the serving maid pleaded pitifully, but his expression never changed.

Now it’s my turn to offer wine.

The swordsman beside me sharpened his blade ominously.

I raised my hand and splashed the wine across his face.

“Are you just asking for it?”

Sold for two jin of millet during a devastating famine, eight-year-old A-Xi enters Yichun House with only the fiercely loyal Zhao Si at her side.

Across years of loss, friendship, betrayal, and revenge, she watches women condemned by class and custom struggle to claim the one thing the world denies them: the right to choose their own lives.

When old dynasties and old cages finally begin to crumble, A-Xi must decide what freedom means—and whether returning home can ever restore what was taken from her.

There was a sorceress in the capital.

Every wish made to her came true.

But her price was steep.

One life for one wish.

I went to her door.

In exchange for my life, I wanted every member of my husband’s family to die a wretched death.

The sorceress was so beautiful and ethereal she might have been an immortal.

Only the crimson dot between her brows carried a hint of menace.

She told me, “Go home and wait seven days.

In seven days, I promise you, not even a dog or chicken in his household will remain alive.”

I was born in Qingshi Town, the daughter of a respectable family who ran a rice shop.

Later, I ended up living under someone else’s roof at the Censor’s Mansion, serving as a maid.

The Second Young Master wanted to take me as his concubine, but I said that Colonel Chao from Kaizhou was my Brother-in-law. They did not believe me.

It was not until the mansion hosted a banquet for guests that Lord Chao, the former bandit chief, accidentally crushed the wine cup in his hand and smiled at Zhang Censor, saying, “I hear your Second Young Master wishes to take my wife’s younger sister as a concubine?”

It was my fifth year since transmigrating from a smut novel into ancient times.

My body had been feeling worse and worse.

Then one day, I coughed up a mouthful of blood from my heart.

I knew that if I did not have a man to relieve me, I would die when my body burst apart.

Just then, lines of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes.

[The Male Lead has been afflicted with Lust Poison tonight. What a shame the Female Lead hasn’t appeared yet. The Female Supporting Character will have to detoxify him instead.]

The Male Lead was my eldest brother, a man as pure as a clear breeze and bright moon, cold and aloof.

But I was neither the Female Lead, nor the Female Supporting Character, nor Female Character N.

I was only an adopted daughter with the role of Background Character A.

Being Background Character A meant I could do anything.

So under cover of night, dressed in nothing but a layer of gauze,

I secretly slipped into my brother’s room.