Female Protagonist

When my mother married Wang the Mute, she was already carrying me.

Everyone in the neighborhood had advice for him.

Some told him to get rid of the bastard with a strong dose of medicine.

Others told him to write a divorce letter and throw my mother out.

Wang only smiled, turned around, and sent for the best midwife for miles.

Then I was born.

My mistress kept a Kunlun slave.

Even after she married, she found ways to keep him at her side.

Later, she conceived what was to be her husband’s legitimate son, and spent her pregnancy pampered like a princess.

But when her ten months were up, the baby she bore was black.

Every maid and midwife who attended the birth vanished that night.

My elder sister was among them.

That night, the birthing room floor was slick and scarlet, as though it had been washed in blood.

By dawn, the black infant carried out of that room had become a white one.

Having borne the first legitimate son, my mistress was given control of the household.

I was quick-witted enough to offer her schemes, to have servants beaten and old women punished.

I helped secure her position as mistress of the house, and rose to become a first-rank maid.

Behind my back, the servants called me her dog.

When I heard, I merely curved my lips in a smile.

I meant to be a dog, all right.

A mad dog that killed its master.

For twenty years, I hated Shen Rou for stealing my husband.

I outlived her, rich and honored, yet on my deathbed I remembered that she had been only fifteen.

Given another life, I returned determined to expose her scheme and send her far away to a better fate.

But when I reached the pavilion, the hand sprinkling powder into the incense burner belonged to my husband.

My husband found my long-lost cousin in a brothel, dying of a venereal disease.

She took one look at my happy life and decided I had stolen it from her.

I was never an impostor: my mother had given me to my grieving aunt in adoption when I was five.

For nine years, I had been made to soothe a woman who resented my happiness.

Now my husband expected me to sacrifice myself for my cousin too.

I was done paying for everyone else’s guilt.

This time, I would take what they owed me—and leave with my daughter.

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.

A scandal spread through the household about Xue Rao, our family’s adopted daughter, and my eldest brother.

She had him so thoroughly bewitched that for days he neglected his younger siblings.

My second brother was furious and went to confront her.

Before long, he too was constantly visiting her waterside pavilion, with no thought for anyone else.

I decided to see this scheming creature for myself.

Gauze curtains veiled the pavilion, and laughter filled my ears.

Xue Rao greeted me with a smile.

“Why, Third Miss.

Which brother have you come to see?”

They called me a witch who bewitched men’s minds, and put me to the sword.

Later, they tried everything they could to bring me back to life.

It turned out that the prodigy I had supposedly bewitched had gone mad.

He meant to slaughter the whole world and send it to the grave with me.

My beautiful, wealthy roommate and Beijing’s golden boy had a love life that was one long melodrama.

To make him jealous, she crooked a finger and stole the childhood friend I’d known for over ten years.

The golden boy came to find me.

“I’ll give you a hundred.

Get that mediocre childhood friend of yours away from her.”

Every novel I’d read about bringing an arrogant man to heel flashed through my mind.

I flicked my hair in what I hoped was a seductive gesture and said, “Give me two hundred.

Then pretend to be my dog and drive her crazy.”

“I guarantee she’ll never dare bring up breaking up with you again.”

He looked stunned.

“Two hundred?

Are you robbing me?”

I was stunned too.

“You can’t spare two hundred yuan?”

Suddenly, he went quiet.

When the apocalypse came, I struggled to stay alive.

Then the zombie king ate a hopeless romantic’s brain—and fell hopelessly in love with me.

Every day, I opened my door to find him offering me fresh food, eager to please.

Until he read a book called The Rules of a Shady Merchant.

Then the food came with a price.

“One sausage for a hug.

One bag of bread for a kiss.”

“What about hot pot?”

I asked nervously.

The zombie king chuckled and beckoned me closer.

“That costs a little more.

Come here, and I’ll explain it to you.

Slowly.”

The system told me I could only go home by becoming the male lead’s girlfriend.

After five years of groveling, his affection score was still stuck at fifty.

So I asked him one more time—and pushed him off a rooftop when he said no.

Every death resets the world.

Every loop takes us farther into the past.

If winning his heart will not set me free, perhaps killing him will.