Female Protagonist

Sold for two jin of millet during a devastating famine, eight-year-old A-Xi enters Yichun House with only the fiercely loyal Zhao Si at her side.

Across years of loss, friendship, betrayal, and revenge, she watches women condemned by class and custom struggle to claim the one thing the world denies them: the right to choose their own lives.

When old dynasties and old cages finally begin to crumble, A-Xi must decide what freedom means—and whether returning home can ever restore what was taken from her.

I am a bastard born of a concubine, yet I carry a face that could topple a kingdom.

When I was nine, a local thug tried to snatch me to make me his bride.

Mother risked her life to save me.

The next day, she took me through the streets and alleys of the capital for three hours, until every passerby had memorized my face.

Then she carried me to the gates of the Marquis of Pingyang Manor, knelt, and cried out:

“I, Lady Liu, a humble concubine, bore this girl for the Marquis on the ninth day of the twelfth month nine years ago in Apricot Blossom Alley, west of the suburbs. The neighbors can all attest to it.

“I know my lowly station and dare not ask for a title. I can only trade my death for the Marquis to acknowledge this child and raise her within the household!”

With that, she slammed her head against the stone lion at the gate and breathed her last.

My mother exchanged her life for my place in the Marquis’s household.

And she let the entire capital know that I am a bastard born of a kept woman.

My mother had been a pawned wife, passed through many households and made to bear many sons.

When age took her beauty and she could no longer have children, she opened a wife-pawning house of her own and began selling other men’s wives.

One spring day, a carriage stopped outside our shop.

A handsome young scholar stood there with tears reddening his eyes.

“Mother,” he said, “I’ve come to take you home and give you a life of comfort.”

The newly appointed imperial scholar claimed he was one of the sons she had borne, and he had returned to repay the gift of life.

My mother taught me that a concubine could only live well by pleasing her husband until he cast aside his wife for her.

But I discovered that the lawful wife was beautiful, kind, and—most importantly—rich.

So I switched sides without hesitation and asked, “Madam, may I work for you instead?”

After I was exiled to the frontier, my fiancé took up with my younger half sister.

Everyone in the capital said she was my replacement.

Then she shattered a keepsake my late mother had left behind, and he stepped forward to protect her.

I drew my sword and pointed it at his throat.

If he loved her so much, he could die with her.

I heard the daughter of Tailor Han in the east of town had become an official’s concubine.

Some said she was off to a life of comfort.

Others said she was off to suffer.

I was that daughter of the Han family.

While packing my mom’s things, a receipt suddenly slipped out of an old cardboard box.

It read: April 8, 2006. Aigo MP3 player returned and refunded. Goods and payment settled in full. Total: 498 yuan.

I felt as if I’d been plunged into an ice cellar.

The MP3 player I had thought had been lost for twenty years, the MP3 player that became the trigger every time my mom and I fought, had appeared out of nowhere, just like that.

Clutching the receipt, I asked her numbly, “Back then… did you return that MP3 player?”

Before I was born, my father dreamed of a phoenix.

The very next moment, my mother went into labor.

Father therefore decided I had been born to a magnificent destiny.

And since good fortune ought to stay in the family, I would simply have to find myself a live-in son-in-law.

On Xianyu, I spotted an offer for a 3,888-yuan luxury buffet for just 188.

Half convinced, half suspicious, I placed an order.

The seller told me to wait outside the restaurant the next day.

So I did, like a good girl.

What arrived was a group of impeccably suited high-flyers.

It turned out to be their company outing, with family members allowed.

Apparently, I was family now.

At that point, all I could do was grit my teeth and follow them inside.

I was happily stuffing myself when someone told me we had to take turns toasting the boss.

I raised my glass too and stammered, “M-Mr.

Shih, a toast to you.”

The whole table fell silent.

Someone turned red trying to hold it in.

The boss’s handsome face darkened.

“It’s Shi.”

There were no domineering male leads here—only sweet boys with softer tempers, bigger pecs, broader shoulders, and a height over 180 centimeters.

An old-fashioned girl like me had somehow become the decent woman everyone was fighting over.

They said any woman who could resist staring at a man’s pecs had to be a good woman.