Republican Era

On the second day of the tenth lunar month, the great warlord Lu Zhi took a second concubine: Song Anran, the youngest daughter of the chairman of the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce.

Lu Zhi had made a name for himself in recent years.

He had won battle after battle, commanded a formidable army, and wielded immense power—but surely not so much that the chairman of the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce would deliver his own daughter to him as a concubine.

Oh, but it was.

My father did exactly that.

Born into wealth but sold into a brothel by her opium-addicted father, Zhao Xiaochan remakes herself as Tang Xiaowan and refuses to let a violent age decide her worth.

Beside a rough warlord and later a principled reporter, she survives betrayal, occupation, and impossible love while risking everything to shelter other women from the same fate.

Across decades of war and upheaval, the jade cicada at her throat becomes the last witness to a life lived fiercely, proudly, and on her own terms.

After my husband’s favored concubine shoved me into a deep well, I miscarried. As crimson blood spread through the water, I heard a strange melody rise from the depths.

“Third Set of National Middle School Students’ Radio Gymnastics, Dancing Youth, begins now.”

My Miss is a traditional lady of the old school; the rules are etched into her very bones.

On their wedding night, the Chen Family Young Master, disdainful that she wasn’t a “modern woman,” didn’t even lift her bridal veil before climbing over the wall and running away.

Her parents-in-law, fearing she might do something drastic, sent people to stand guard outside her door all night.

But the next morning…

Miss appeared properly dressed and groomed, kneeling respectfully to serve tea to her parents-in-law. “Since I have entered the gates of the Chen Family, it is only right that I serve my elders.”

Three years later.

The Chen Family Young Master returned, bringing with him a woman dressed in a Western-style skirt and high heels.

Standing side-by-side in the center of the main hall, they declared that arranged marriages were a relic of the old feudal system and demanded a divorce from Miss.

In the silence that filled the hall, no one could bear to look at Miss’s face.

Only I saw-

As Miss lowered her gaze…

Very slowly, ever so slowly…

The corners of her lips curled into a faint smile.

Liu Xingzhi is dead.

His wife traveled all the way from Wuxi to Beiping to invite me to the funeral.

She did so because among his personal effects, there were dozens of letters, every single one of them addressed to me.

Yet, in the past ten years, I had only met him seven times.