Devoted Love Interests

I was a flower Shen Yan had planted.

He tended me lovingly for years, and I finally took human form the year he killed the emperor and claimed the throne.

One night, I slipped into his bedchamber and lay down beside him, only for him to seize me by the throat.

I looked at him pitifully.

“But this is how I always used to sleep.”

For two years, my online boyfriend and I have turned ordinary life into an absurd rich-heir role-play.

Then he adds me to his childhood-friends group, and I discover that every outrageous claim was true: he really is a powerful heir, and his so-called loyal lackey is the president of my company.

Convinced I have deceived him, I try to run before the truth ruins everything.

But Fu Yan has known exactly who I am all along, and he has no intention of letting class differences—or my spectacular misunderstandings—end our romance.

I’d finally scraped together enough money for an immortal sword.

Then some godforsaken sword cultivator used Ten Thousand Swords Return to the Source and summoned mine away.

When it flew back, it had thirteen notches in its blade.

Damn you!

Give me my sword back the way it was!

My younger sister stole the man I was supposed to marry, and the empress’s public reprimand seemed to destroy what remained of my future.

Then my sworn rival arrived to laugh at me—and I heard the thoughts behind his smug smile.

She could have spared herself all this trouble by marrying me.

So I asked him, in front of everyone, if he would.

The next instant, his face turned scarlet.

I was once my young mistress’s senior maid.

Simply because the heir cast one extra glance my way, she gave me away and I became his bedchamber maid.

Later, the heir became engaged.

His future wife disliked me, so he gave me to another man.

Later still, he begged me to return.

But by then, I was already the lawful wife of the Chief Grand Secretary.

I had fallen for a shadow guard.

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.

After I accidentally fell into the water at six, I became the silliest girl in all Jiangnan.

And yet, I was also the luckiest, for I had a husband who was wonderful in every way.

From what I wore to what I ate, he personally took care of everything for me.

Then one day, I wanted a second bowl of iced cream at dinner.

When he refused, my cousin, who had never liked my husband, questioned me.

“A-Fu, don’t you think your husband bosses you around too much?”

My husband answered coldly on my behalf.

“She doesn’t.”

My cousin tried again.

“Your cousin never bosses you around like that, so doesn’t that mean I’m still the better one?”

My husband frowned, then calmly wiped the corner of my mouth.

“Good A-Fu, did you hear that?”

“Your cousin is trying to drive a wedge between us.”

“He’s absolutely rotten.”

I am Gu Qianyu, the chancellor’s daughter, and I have unexpectedly acquired a unique gift.

I can see whether a man has been faithful.

If he has been with only one woman, a cucumber floats above his head.

The number of cucumbers increases with the number of women he has had.

The man I am supposed to marry is the heir to the Marquis of Wuling.

A rare specimen of male virtue, scrupulously chaste.

Famous for it throughout the capital.

On the day he came to ask for my hand, he stood tall and elegant, every inch the gentleman.

But when I looked up, the cucumbers above his head stretched all the way out of our residence.

With a woebegone face, I told Mother, “Mother, this is a very, very dirty cucumber!”

“I won’t marry him!”

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.