2026

On the night I was crowned Empress, Lu Yuheng personally handed me a cup of Poisoned Wine. He said that since the Ye Family’s name had been cleared, I should spend one night as a glorious Empress before going to meet my kin with a clean slate. But what he didn’t know was that the most painful wound of my life was never death-it was him.

The night I went to collect Prince Jing’s corpse, I saw my own jade bracelet and sleeping robe inside the coffin. My husband, returned from the dead, choked me and said, “Lanyin, die once in my place.”

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to three months ago. This time, I will be the one collecting their corpses first.

In my third year as a palace maid, I encountered a child.

Floating above her head were the words: Villainess Supporting Character.

I wondered to myself, just how wicked could a seven-year-old child be?

That was until I saw her shove a palace maid to the ground.

Beat the eunuchs. And ruthlessly berate the head governess.

Only then did I realize she was absolutely right to hit them.

I had been wanting to thrash those people for a long time myself.

This wasn’t some Villainess Supporting Character; this was my angel baby.

Later, she asked me, “Don’t you hate me?”

I replied, “Of course not. I like you as much as there are stars in the sky, grains of sand in the desert, and drops of water in the ocean.”

Blushing yet acting with her usual haughty pride, she tucked her hand into my palm.

“You will attend to me tonight.”

The night I was sent into the Royal Palace, snow was falling from the heavens.

One hundred and twenty silver lamps lined the steps, but their wicks were not made of cotton; they were segments of little finger bones coated in white wax.

Everyone said that as long as I sold my last box of matches to the Crown Prince, Baili City would survive this winter.

Only I knew that the flames capable of conjuring the scent of bread, the crackle of a hearth, and the warmth of a grandmother’s smile were not blessings from God.

They were the final dreams of children who had frozen to death in the streets.

Tonight, the Royal Palace was coming for mine.

I paint faces for the dead and open The Door for the living.

After the Prime Minister’s Daughter met a sudden, violent end, I painted the last thing she ever saw.

Three months later, that very face smiled at me from a crowded street.

Later, when the Grand Princess lay within her coffin, she reached out and gripped my brush. “Don’t paint me,” she whispered. “Paint yourself.”

During the year our love was at its peak, the young general whose name shook the borderlands used all his military merit to petition my Imperial Father for my hand in marriage.

But three years later, a woman arrived at our door clutching a child, weeping and begging me to take them in.

My husband claimed he had simply had too much to drink and made a terrible mistake.

My mother-in-law said that since I had already ruined my husband’s career prospects, I could not go so far as to sever his bloodline as well.

My closest kin advised me to be magnanimous, telling me that this was simply how every mistress of a household in the capital lived.

Only my sister, with whom I had never seen eye to eye, patted my back and told me: “In the past, you let your Imperial Brother make your decisions for you.” “Later, you let your husband make your decisions for you.” “Now, it is time you learned to grow up on your own.” “After all, you have a little girl of your own now.”

I looked down at the tiny daughter in my arms, who was still sucking on her fingers.

I understood that if I were weak, my daughter would never know how to be strong.

If I were easily bullied, my daughter would never know how to be independent. This time, it was my turn to act.

Three months after I moved into Old River Bend, the old lady next door died. While I was helping clear out her belongings, I found a diary.

The first page read: “My daughter died three years ago. The person living next door to me is a ghost.”

But I knew there was something wrong with her daughter from the very first day, because I’m a ghost, too.

I am a crow, and I was perched in a tree, speaking with a young man-

“…It found a clay jar, but there was too little water inside. So, it picked up stones in its beak and dropped them into the jar until the water rose, and it finally managed to drink. However, once it returned to Penglai Mountain, the clan leader had it burned to death.”

“Why?”

“It was sick. A ‘Crow Plague’ had grown inside its head. That is a type of pestilence from your mortal realm that only we crows can contract.”

“How could they tell it had the Crow Plague?”

“It started dropping stones into jars. It even claimed that the divine bird atop the Fusang Tree looked like it had three legs and fifteen toes.”

“…That Crow Plague you’re talking about? I think it might go by another name in our world.”

“What?”

“Brains.”

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?”

There is no spring in the Sea of No Return.

On the eve of our wedding, Shang Wujiu personally gouged out my Heart Lamp and sealed me within the Sea of No Return.

Three hundred years later, he knelt by the shore, begging me to return.

But he didn’t know that the lamp-the very thing that had extended his life-had long since burned into ash at the bottom of the sea.