Character Growth

I was a female scripture teacher who recited sutras for the madam of the household.

Yet in the middle of the night, someone cornered me behind the incense-draped curtains and asked me who was better-looking: him or the Bodhisattva.

That night, I did not choose the Bodhisattva.

Unfortunately, after barely three months, he came to bid me farewell.

I thought he had simply grown tired of me, so I agreed without fuss.

From then on, he lived beneath the glow of red lanterns, lost in endless pleasure, while I returned alone to the ancient Buddha and my solitary lamp.

Who would have thought that later, when he learned I had been drowned in a pond… He went mad.

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 our seventh year together, Liang Qiezhao was getting married into another family for business reasons.

The night we broke up, we were unusually calm. “I’ll move out as soon as possible,” I said.

“There’s no need for that.” The man sat hunched by the window, slowly and methodically clipping a cigar as he gave his instructions. “I’m transferring the title of this apartment to you. It’s closer to your office.” “Your old car is getting on in years and should be replaced. I’ve also left some money in your primary account.” “As for the future… if you run into any trouble and it’s inconvenient to contact me, you can call Secretary Qin.”

He spent a long time clipping that cigar. The cut was perfectly smooth, yet he kept his eyes down, inspecting it repeatedly. He didn’t light it, nor did he look up for a long time.

Behind him, clean, even snowflakes were drifting down. I suddenly remembered Christmas Eve that year. Regent Street was bustling with people under the Angel Lights, snow falling all around us.

Twenty-seven-year-old Liang Qiezhao had held my hand tightly. He held on until our palms were damp. And even then, he couldn’t bear to let go.

In the fifth year of our marriage, I got pregnant, and Fu Chi wept with joy.

Everyone said I was lucky, that I had married an up-and-coming tycoon like Fu Chi.

But no one ever mentioned the actress he was keeping on the side.

It was as if everyone had forgotten that I, too, was the girl he had confessed to at seventeen, his eyes red-rimmed with emotion.

Behind his back, one of his friends warned him, “You’re being such a bastard. Aren’t you afraid Xu Man will divorce you?”

Fu Chi had nothing to fear. He only gave a lazy smile and said, “She won’t.”

Later, without making a scene or saying a word, I aborted the child.

When the news got out, Fu Chi flew back from London overnight.

Marrying Zhao Yunyan, Duke Wei, was hardly a joyous occasion.

He had a cherished concubine, an understanding childhood sweetheart who knew his heart.

He also had a red rose who had once saved his life, a woman he kept outside the manor in a relationship no one could quite explain.

One had accompanied him through childhood; the other had dazzled him in his youth.

No matter how one looked at it, there was no place left for me, his lawful wife.

Mother wept and said I was too simple and straightforward by nature, that I would never be able to warm my husband’s heart.

How was I supposed to live like that?

I comforted her.

I did not seek true love, nor would I harm any concubine.

If I held on to my dignity and cherished myself, how could I not live well?

Six years after our divorce, I ran into my ex-husband on a street corner while holding my three-year-old daughter.

He stared blankly at the girl in my arms for a long time before knitting his brows. “She’s almost six years old,” he said, his voice laced with accusation. “Why does she look so thin and small?”

Ha!

He actually thought the child I was holding was his.

I suppose he believed I loved him so deeply that even after he cheated and divorced me, I would have gone off and raised his child all on my own.

I was once the hardworking, dedicated wife of a low-ranking official.

But when my husband decided to take a concubine, I simply stopped caring.

“I’m going back to inherit the throne.” Xie Canghuai froze. “Stop messing around. There’s a limit to how much you can act out just because you’re jealous.”

I told him I wasn’t joking. I really did have a throne to inherit. “I can’t give you the position of Imperial Husband, but you can start as a Selected Attendant.” He thought I’d lost my mind and locked me away in a rural manor.

Me: “?” Why couldn’t we just do this the easy way? Do I really have to summon my eight thousand secret guards and give him a wicked smirk?

After my boyfriend dumped me, he planned to go to Tsinghua University with the beautiful top student and live happily ever after.

But when the National College Entrance Examination ended, I was the only student from our school admitted to Tsinghua, and I took the stage as the student representative.

The two of them could only watch from below.

After Lin Min, a prodigy from Tsinghua University, dies in an accident, her soul takes over the body of Sun Shuyi, a bullied high school senior.

Faced with terrible grades, indifferent classmates, and a family in pieces, she relies on the elite abilities she once possessed to fight her way back to first place.

In this new body, she also begins, little by little, to repair Sun Shuyi’s life. As academic competitions, the college entrance exam, and the truth behind an old case draw ever closer, she must find her own rules for coming in first amid revenge, growth, and the chance to live all over again.

In the Fifth Year of Taiyuan, at the Start of Summer, a princess died in the Beiliang Royal Palace.

And a toad.

Anping was that unfortunate princess.

And I was that unfortunate toad.

Fortunately, since her death, I have become her.