2026

On the night of February 2, 2011, my daughter was lured to a park under the guise of a part-time job.

There, she was raped and her body was discarded. At least three people were involved in the assault, but the killers were never found.

On New Year’s Eve, 2026, I prepared a table full of poisoned food and looked at my daughter’s photograph. “It’s been fifteen years, and I still haven’t found the people who destroyed you.

I don’t want to spend another New Year without you. I’m coming down to join you now.”

As the poison began to take effect, I set down my chopsticks and leaned over the table, retching. Just then, my phone rang.

When I answered, a familiar voice came from the other end: “Dad, I’m at the park. Wait for me, I’ll be home soon.”

The world says I have been blessed with a charmed life.

My father is a first-rank official, and my mother hails from a prestigious, noble clan.

Both of my elder brothers serve in the imperial court, and all three of my elder sisters have married into high-ranking families.

Since childhood, I have been draped in the finest silks and fed the rarest delicacies from jade platters.

Even the trifles I play with on a whim are worth enough to sustain an ordinary family for half a lifetime.

Yet, outsiders see only the surface of my tapestry-like life.

They do not understand that greatness brings its own burdens. Within these embroidered curtains and silken screens, schemes lie hidden at every turn.

Between the golden chalices and jade chopsticks, murderous intent flashes when least expected.

A single misstep is all it takes to fall into the bottomless abyss.

Chapter 0 My financial backer said I was the only pure white Jasmine Flower in the entertainment industry.

Because I never fought or schemed, because I was obedient and sensible, and because I was utterly devoted to him.

Lately, though, he had developed a particular fondness for a vulgar, gaudy peony.

So the two endorsements and the film role he had originally promised me all went to his new favorite instead.

Plenty of people in the industry were waiting to laugh at me.

I was the only one who let out a long sigh of relief.

At last, I had a reason to change backers.

And my new financial backer had already grown impatient waiting.

I am the female lead of a PO novel, thrown into a clean romance novel by the system to be reformed.

Hilarious. I walked straight up to the male lead and said, “Hey, wanna kiss?” The male lead threw me in jail, claiming I had sexually harassed him.

Later on, he became even more unhinged than the male lead of a PO novel.

Three years after my death, Zhou Jibai won his first Best Actor award.

At the awards ceremony, the host asked, “At this moment, do you have any words you’d like to share?”

Zhou Jibai dialed a number, but no one picked up. A mocking smile played on his lips. “On the day we broke up, someone told me that if I ever won Best Actor, she would jump off the eighteenth floor.”

“Why is she afraid to answer the phone now? She didn’t actually jump, did she?” I was currently floating right beside him, trying to touch that trophy, but I nearly choked back to life at those words.

… Zhou Jibai, how rude can you get?

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.

“Fine, I’ll be the one to marry him.”

The moment the words left my mouth, a sudden sense of relief washed over me.

It was no big deal. In fact, I suppose you could even call this a blessing, couldn’t you?

My lady was injured and lost her memory. She forgot everyone, yet she remembered my husband.

My husband was once a beggar.

During a heavy winter snowfall, he lay by the roadside, covered in blood and filth.

Passersby all steered clear of him, but my lady alone ordered her carriage to stop and took him in.

From then on, he stayed in the manor to tend the horses for her.

My lady often visited him under the pretext of checking on the horses.

I saw the deep, lingering affection in their eyes with my own.

But how could a young lady of her status ever marry a horse slave?

Heartbroken, she told him:

“I cannot marry you.

“But I will find someone to take care of you in my stead.”

My lady personally betrothed me to him.

Later, the lowly horse slave found his way back to the imperial capital and reclaimed his identity as a prince.

I, in turn, became his legitimate consort.

On the day of the investiture, I was waiting.

I knew.

Sooner or later, my lady would come back to reclaim what was originally hers.

My husband brought home a child.

I raised him as my own, teaching him poetry, books, and proper etiquette.

I molded him into a noble young gentleman skilled in both letters and arms.

Years later, when he had risen to the highest ranks of court, he locked me away in a dark dungeon.

With both hands, he crushed my jaw. “My birth mother was Shuang’er, the woman you murdered.”

“A venomous woman like you thinks she deserves to be my mother?”

My husband stood by and watched, his palms pressed together in prayer.

“Shuang’er, may your spirit finally rest in peace.”

After being tortured to death, I was reborn.

Faced with the child my husband had brought home, I still smiled and said, “Of course. From now on, he will be my own son.”

When I was thirteen, I traded myself for a bowl of chicken soup. From that moment on, I knew I was born for this life. I used it to trade for one head after another.