Female Protagonist

When my roommate Jiang Sibing learned that I kept three men on standby, she joked that she pitied my future husband for draining his savings on a bride who had already been passed around.

After a moment’s hesitation, I offered to transfer one of them to her.

Jiang Sibing’s eyes widened at once.

My best friend stumbled into a suicide game, and it shattered her worldview.

Talk one person into killing themselves, and you were guaranteed at least ten thousand yuan.

Sell “suicide merchandise,” and you earned a twenty-percent cut.

The merchandise included death-scene photos, bloodstained clothes, ongoing reports on the victim’s family, and more.

My righteous best friend worked tirelessly for a month…

and managed to talk eight of the game’s chat groups into disbanding.

The people behind it lost their minds. “Wasn’t she diagnosed as an extremely rare antisocial personality during testing? How did she turn into a saint?”

Had it ever occurred to them that she wasn’t the one who took the test?

I was.

And as someone with that exceedingly rare antisocial personality, I preferred making my own rules.

I was just about to tell my beastman husband that my sight had returned when I overheard his younger brother trying to persuade him.

“Shi Zhou, you may have lost your memory, but Yue Wei was your fiancée.”

“She’s badly injured now, and only your S-rank healing power can save her.”

“Are you really going to stand by and let her die?”

“If you can’t bear to leave that little blind girl of yours alone, I’ll take your place for a while.”

“She can’t see anyway.”

In the end, Shi Zhou gave in.

“All right.”

The live comments erupted with excitement.

[The strictest dad in the entire shipping fandom has arrived. Who else understands the noble sacrifice of a tsundere little brother offering himself up to the cannon fodder for the sake of his brother and sister-in-law’s true love?]

[Little brother: This family would fall apart without me.]

I raised my head and looked over, my heart skipping a beat.

Before me stood an upgraded version of Shi Ye-taller, broader, younger-looking, devastatingly handsome, and with an even straighter nose.

After Shi Zhou left, I felt my way over and wrapped my arms around Shi Ye’s waist from behind.

“Honey, you feel so different today.”

“Why are you suddenly hanging to the left?”

“Is something bothering you?”

Madam Lin is choosing a bedchamber maid for her son.

All the pretty maids are eager to be picked.

Holding my fire poker, I ask Granny Shi, “Can I roast a potato?”

Granny Shi says, “Can you please show a little sense?”

The day I decided not to get married, Chen Shuo was at the market buying a bass.

He sent me a photo and asked, “This one’s nine hundred grams.

Too big?

Mum said you liked it steamed.”

I stared at the fish lying in its plastic basket for ten or fifteen seconds, then replied, “Chen Shuo, let’s not register our marriage next week.”

He probably thought I was stressed about the wedding again.

After a while, he replied, “Sure.

We can push it back.

You’ve been busy with your project lately anyway, haven’t you?”

I said, “I don’t mean push it back.”

There was nothing from him for two minutes.

“What do you mean?”

I put my phone facedown on my desk and didn’t answer.

At 4:27 that afternoon, I was sitting in a windowless meeting room with a final account for a construction project worth forty-seven million yuan spread out before me.

The printer kept spitting out paper next door.

The air vent hummed overhead.

My supervisor, Wei, was arguing with the contractor’s people over a hundred and seventy thousand yuan in additional works claims.

Everything was ordinary.

So ordinary it hardly seemed like the afternoon a woman had decided to cancel her wedding.

No one had been caught cheating.

There had been no slap, no other woman, no sudden revelation of anyone’s true colours.

Chen Shuo hadn’t betrayed me.

He was, by most standards, a decent man.

He didn’t smoke, didn’t throw money around, wasn’t violent, and had no interest in going out for what men called “a night with the boys.”

If you drew up a job specification for a suitable husband, he’d score eighty-five out of a hundred.

So everyone asked me, “Then why on earth won’t you marry him?”

That turned out to be the hardest question to answer.

Because when an adult truly wants to leave a relationship, there often isn’t one devastating piece of evidence against the other person.

Just one small bill after another.

And suddenly you realise that, for seven years, every one of those bills has had your name on it.

While carving the demon king’s core from his body, Zhao Fuqu is dragged into a chain of illusions built from the past of her supposedly useless master.

She witnesses Fu Ning—the first child of destiny—sacrifice himself for the Changheng Sect, then endure three brutal reincarnations for defying the Heavenly Dao.

Shen Du insists that fate cannot be changed, but Zhao Fuqu refuses to stand by while the people she cares about are sacrificed for the sect’s glory.

My parents sent me into the deep sea to work as a housekeeper for an octopus.

Before I left, I asked Mom: “You have five children.

Why send me away?”

Mom sobbed so hard she could barely speak.

“Business class on the interplanetary flights only has six seats, but there are seven of us.”

“Because of you, our family can’t all sit together whenever we travel to Mars!”

Me: “?”

But I was the middle child.

A seething mass of worms crawled from the King of Nanzhao’s mouth. The handsome human skin shriveled in an instant.

I knelt in the great hall, head bowed, pretending I hadn’t seen a thing. A blood-red eyeball rolled across the floor and came to a stop before me.

A soft chuckle drifted down from the dais. “You lowly maid. Since you’ve discovered Our secret, We shall reward you handsomely.”

I died that evening, on the sixteenth day of the seventh month, while delivering tea to His Majesty the King on the Princess Consort’s orders.

The next moment, I opened my eyes and found myself back on the morning of the sixteenth day of the seventh month.

“Save me!” the Princess Consort pleaded. “This is my third time through the loop!”

Qi He had spent three years trying to win me over, mistaking me for the heroine.

He sent me money, made transfers, and bought me a home.

I accepted it all without batting an eye.

I could hear his thoughts: Why hasn’t the romance progress gone up at all?

Am I not giving her enough?

I pretended I had no idea.

So he gave me more and more money.

Until one day, he finally realized he’d been pursuing the wrong woman.

After seven years together and more than seven hundred breakups, my ex wanted us to drink a potion that would make us forget each other.

Worried it might taste bitter, he took the first sip.

Then he looked at me as though we had never met—and decided he wanted me all over again.

When he poured away my glass, he had no idea what I had put in it.

Or so I thought.