Smut

After her family goes bankrupt, spoiled heiress Su Mo marries Tan Xu, the brilliant former scholarship student her father once sponsored.

Their marriage is all sparks, demands, and hate sex—until Su Mo begins seeing live comments that insist she is a doomed villainess and Tan Xu will leave her for his childhood sweetheart.

Determined to save herself and her father, Su Mo hires a divorce lawyer and stops depending on her husband.

But every considerate step only makes Tan Xu more jealous and desperate, while the supposed heroine seems far more interested in befriending Su Mo than stealing him.

As misunderstandings unravel, Su Mo must decide whether the love she thought was one-sided has been mutual all along.

I run a brothel staffed by men.

But my courtesans don’t cater to men with a taste for other men.

They serve women with perfectly ordinary needs.

I named the place the Hundred Stallions House.

I don’t actually have a hundred male courtesans, of course, but I do have quite a few.

Gentle, aloof, strapping, dangerously obsessive—we have every type imaginable.

Our clients range from widowed officials’ wives to farm women who have lost their husbands, and even wandering swordswomen.

Now and then, a noble young lady sneaks out to satisfy her curiosity.

All in all, business is booming.

But there are complications.

Take that judicial officer from the Capital Prefecture, for example.

He has tried every trick in the book to shut down my Hundred Stallions House.

So when the opportunity presented itself, I drugged him.

Then I locked him in the woodshed out back.

In my dreams, I kept giving myself over to wild passion with a man.

One day, I finally saw his face.

It was Li Jici, the icy Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review, a man said to have no interest in women.

When my brother is falsely accused, Li Jici mocks me for begging him for help—yet that very night, the man in my dreams is more passionate than ever.

Only after a drunken guest reveals the peach-shaped birthmark on Li Jici’s chest do I realize the truth: the beautiful dreams we have shared belong to both of us.

On the second day after learning that I was the impostor daughter, I finally lost control of my unhealthy obsession with my big brother.

I locked him in the basement, kissed him, and climbed all over him.

Then, during the day, I pretended nothing was wrong and helped the whole family search for their long-missing eldest son.

Like a rat in a sewer, I let myself sink deeper and deeper into a mire of despair.

An impostor daughter was unlikeable enough already.

Once they found out I was a pervert in love with her own brother, they would surely be disgusted by me too-wouldn’t they?

Then one day, my entire family began plotting right in front of me.

“Zhexue, your big brother has to appear at an international conference, so can I let him out for a little while?”

“Just half an hour. I promise we’ll lock him back up before you get home!”

Me: “?”

I was born to perform.

When I discovered that my husband from a marriage of convenience was only cold and aloof on the surface-and insatiable underneath-I helped myself to the feast.

I loved watching still waters ripple endlessly under my touch.

But I seemed to have taken the act a little too far. It wasn’t just in bed that I clung to him. I lost control outside the bedroom too.

One day, when I brought lunch to his office again, I overheard his friend teasing him.

“Who was it that said this was just a business arrangement and you’d get divorced after three months? Now you go home at six thirty sharp every day. Aren’t you sick of it?”

After a few seconds of silence, Qin Xian answered.

“I am.”

I stood outside the door, staring down at the lunchbox in my hands.

So his workday didn’t actually end at ten thirty. It ended at six thirty.

I decided it was time to rein in my urge to perform.

I remained endlessly enthusiastic in bed, but I never initiated another message to him.

On the day our contract expired, I cheerfully handed him the divorce papers. Qin Xian’s eyes instantly darkened.

“All this time, did you see me as your husband-or as a vibrator?”

I had a boyfriend who checked every box.

From his face to his body to his personality, he fit my tastes perfectly.

So perfectly it felt like a romance scam tailor-made for me.

Until that day, when I saw the bullet comments.

[The Female Supporting Character doesn’t actually think the Male Lead likes her, does she?]

[If his Simp Bro hadn’t threatened to jump off a building, why would he have spent so much time with a woman he doesn’t love?]

[The Simp Bro likes the Female Supporting Character himself, but he’s too insecure to confess, so he can only quietly play the role of her best friend.]

[And just because the Female Supporting Character said she was interested in the Male Lead, he actually trained his own bro into shape and sent him over to be her boyfriend. That’s insane.]

[It’s fine. Once the Female Lead shows up, the Female Supporting Character will learn the truth, and then the Male Lead will dump her.]

Stunned, I turned to look at the boyfriend beside me.

His brow was furrowed, and he looked a little impatient.

Then he said,

“No matter how long you stare at me, I’m not wearing it.”

“This outfit is seriously too much.”

I came to the city looking for work, and somehow ended up as the male secretary to a young, domineering CEO.

Like an idiot, I asked him, “Bro, I don’t have much schooling. What can I do?”

The CEO frowned around the cigarette between his lips and motioned for me to bend lower. “You can.”

Three months later, I was standing beside the CEO’s bed while he shifted over with his laptop in his arms to make room for me, then reached out to blow-dry my hair.

All at once, it hit me.

Wait.

Something about this doesn’t seem right.

I ended up sleeping with the deaf-mute college boy my husband and I had been sponsoring.

While my husband brought his secretary home and took her to bed, I was in the next room, tangled up endlessly with the boy he had sponsored.

He bit his lip, trying to hold back, his face flushed, his eyes hazy.

He typed on his phone and played it aloud through text-to-speech: “Stop! Please don’t touch me there!”

Neither of us expected the volume to be so loud that my husband in the next room heard it.

In the eighteenth year after I transmigrated, I finally became a proper maidservant.

When Old Madam and Second Master quarreled, I was the one who stepped in to smooth things over.

I knelt on the floor, clinging to Second Master’s leg, and begged him not to say things in anger.

Second Master pinched my chin and sneered. “I know Third Brother has his eye on you. But I insist on making you my concubine. Even if he finds out, what of it?”

Of course Third Master would not do anything to Second Master.

He would only kill me without a word.

I belonged to Third Master. He would rather have me dead than defiled.

In their eyes, I was a maidservant, a plaything to be fought over and snatched around.

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.