2026

At Yuchi Wei’s wedding, I once fired an arrow that pierced through the bride’s red veil, killing her on the spot.

I did it because that woman was a spy.

In the aftermath, Yuchi Wei was moved to tears of gratitude. He promoted me to be his personal lieutenant.

Because of that proximity, he eventually discovered my secret-that I was a woman disguised as a man.

Five years later, on our wedding night, he walked into the room carrying a funerary urn he had cherished for years.

“I want you to experience the same thing I did back then,” he said. “To taste the bitterest pain at the moment of your greatest joy.”

Only then did I realize he had deeply loved that spy all along, and his heart had never changed.

He gouged out my eyes and crippled my hands so that I could never fire an arrow again.

Amidst a world of bloody light, I set the house ablaze, dragging him down to death with me.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of Yuchi Wei’s wedding.

“General, do you think the woman who just stepped out of the bridal sedan could be that spy?” my subordinate whispered.

I stopped him, my expression indifferent.

“We are only here today to offer our congratulations. We will not discuss official business.”

The world is one giant slapdash production, and I somehow drift through it anyway.

My father is a financial tycoon, but I can barely handle addition and subtraction under ten. My mother is a gorgeous award-winning actress, while I look perfectly ordinary. My brother held his first solo art exhibition at four, while at five I was still toddling after him babbling nonsense.

Even our maid, Wang Ma, and our butler, Uncle Chen, turned out to be retired legends hiding in plain sight.

Thankfully, all of them adored me. I slowly made peace with being ordinary.

Then one day, a genius girl who had gone viral online showed up at our door and demanded that I give her back her place as the real daughter of the Su family.

Wonderful. The worry that had been hanging over me for years finally dropped dead.

I am a sickly, frail, spoiled drama queen.

One night, as I was once again willfully demanding my Butler come and coax me to sleep, a stream of Bullet Comments suddenly appeared before my eyes: “The horror boss is outside hunting Players and having the time of his life. He doesn’t have time to tuck you in and coax you to sleep.”

“She’s just a human being kept as a pet in a castle by a horror boss. She actually thinks she’s some kind of Young Lady.”

“Once the big boss meets the clever and witty Female Lead, he’ll grow disgusted with this delicate, spoiled drama queen. He’ll use all sorts of perverted methods to torture her before eating her piece by piece.”

Terrified, I hid under my covers, trembling uncontrollably.

The next second, a cool hand gently pulled back the duvet. A voice, gentle yet tinged with a faint, chilling coldness, drifted down from above me: “Master, what’s wrong?”

For six years after marrying into Xiping Marquis Manor, I spent six years a living widow.

My husband was stationed at the Northern Frontier, yet somehow found time in the midst of his duties to fall madly in love with another woman.

She was beautiful and strong, able to ride tall warhorses, wield a long spear, and read the art of war.

She fought shoulder to shoulder with my husband on the battlefield, killing the enemy.

The people and soldiers of the border city all called her the General’s Lady.

As for me, the true General’s Lady, no one even knew I existed. She was the eagle of the Northern Frontier.

I was a sparrow trapped in the inner courtyard.

But disaster was already creeping closer.

Before my fiancé, Cui Ning, left for his long journey, he gave me a harsh scolding.

It was because I wanted to borrow thirty-three taels of silver from him to buy back my mother’s keepsake, a paulownia qin.

He accepted my promissory note and recorded the debt in his ledger, yet he refused to give me the money.

“Xiaoyu, you don’t even know how to play the instrument. What’s the point of buying it?” He added, “Besides, thirty-three taels is enough to buy two of you.”

This winter, I had spent my days on the pleasure boats, combing the hair of the older sisters and doing their laundry, only to painstakingly save up a single tael.

But the instrument shop couldn’t wait any longer.

They said someone else had their eye on the instrument and it would be sold the day after tomorrow.

When I returned to the Cui Family home wiping away my tears, Matchmaker Liu saw my red eyes and tried to persuade me again with a kindly expression.

“The Shen family is sincere about their proposal. Don’t even mention mountains of gold or silver-you only need to ask.” She continued, “They said that even if you wanted the stars or the moon from the sky, they would pluck them down for you.”

I thought about what Cui Ning had said-that thirty-three taels was a massive sum of money, enough to buy two of me.

Afraid that the Shen family would be unwilling, I dried my tears and asked cautiously: “I don’t want the stars, and I don’t want the moon.”

“I want a paulownia qin. It costs thirty-three taels of silver.”

I knew nothing of the zither, chess, calligraphy, or painting.

Before I married Yu Huaiqian, the matchmaker asked me what I was good at.

I thought for a long while, then said,

“Picking rice.”

The whole room burst into laughter.

Yu Huaiqian laughed too, but there was no mockery in it.

He said, “Being able to pick rice is quite good. A household still has to eat.”

He was a famously refined young gentleman of the capital.

Everyone thought he should have married that childhood sweetheart of his, the one who could compose lyrics.

But he married me.

After the wedding, we each did our part and supported each other.

I asked him if he ever found me dull.

He placed a chopstickful of greens into my bowl. “Dull is good. I’ve heard enough of all that outside.”

I remembered those words for a very long time.

Until his childhood sweetheart broke off her engagement and returned to the capital.

At the Qushui Banquet, she casually recited a single line from a new lyric.

The wine cup in Yu Huaiqian’s hand froze in midair.

After the banquet ended, he sat in the study and filled an entire page with that one line.

I picked up the paper and looked at him. He immediately reached out to snatch it away.

“Don’t look.”

I asked, “Is it so good that I can’t see it?”

He was silent for a moment, then his voice lowered.

“You wouldn’t understand anyway. Why insist on asking?”

I transmigrated into a tragedy novel.

I became the true daughter of the Jiang family—abandoned by my parents, unloved, and kidnapped as a child.

No matter what I said, nobody believed me. Instead, they were convinced I was malicious and scheming, trying to frame the fake daughter.

It wasn’t until I got cancer and took my own life that they finally woke up and saw the truth.

They cried. They regretted. They mourned me.

The System said excitedly, “After you die, they can never have you again.”

“From now on, their whole lives will be filled with nothing but pain and regret.”

“You’ve used your life to take revenge on them! You’ve made them lose what they love most!”

I frowned. Cancer? A tragedy novel?

Then I turned around and slit my own throat.

I became a vengeful ghost.

On the day Ran Ling returned to the capital in triumph, his long-lost first love was brought back to him.

She had once cast aside reputation and status to elope with him, and he had once taken a sword for her.

Everyone said the star-crossed lovers of their youth would finally get the happy ending they had been denied.

But I wasn’t worried, because my mother had transmigrated into this novel—and I was a devoted mama’s girl.

It didn’t matter what anyone schemed against me; I was the hollow rose my mother had raised.

My father, the emperor, once traveled through Jiangnan in disguise and encountered a diviner.

The man exposed his identity at a glance and left him with a prophecy: ‘The one who will plunge my realm into chaos stands even now at Your Majesty’s side.’

Even after my father ordered him beaten to death, he refused to name the traitor.

And so my mother, the most favored consort in the Six Palaces, was given a bowl of arsenic by that brutal, suspicious emperor.

After her death, he ordered her hair draped over her face and her mouth stuffed with rice chaff, so that even her ghost would be too ashamed to face anyone and unable to speak.

All because she had been the only person beside him that day.

But there was one thing my father did not know.

At nine years old, hidden behind a curtain, I had heard everything too.