Revenge

The prince’s heir acquired a famous sword.

A fine sword deserved a beautiful woman.

My looks earned me the position of his sword-bearing maid.

Later, he took me to Taicang for the Sword Trials.

Someone saw me and remarked, “Baseborn to the bone.”

Everyone roared with laughter.

Only years later did they understand.

What the man had actually said was, “Blade-born to the bone.”

Father said I had an affinity with the immortals and sent me up the mountain to become a nun when I was little.

Only as I grew older did I learn that the place where I lived was Mount Tai.

And the nuns of Mount Tai were no proper nuns.

Just as the “slender horses” of Yangzhou were not horses, and the boatwomen of West Lake did more than row boats.

Men came for the thrill of doing the most profane things in a sacred place.

Then the emperor himself climbed the mountain to pray for an heir.

And I became pregnant with his only child.

When my father died, he left me a pawnshop called Pawnshop Number Whatever.

By day, it had no customers.

By night, it was packed with souls, trading kindness, malice, and years of life for what they desired.

Tonight, my last customer was my husband, away on campaign.

He looked at the masked shopkeeper without recognizing me.

“I’d like to pawn my wife outright.”

I was the legitimate daughter of an old noble house, carefully raised to become the crown prince’s wife.

Then a woman arrived on a mission to win his love, and he demanded that our betrothal be broken.

Everyone expected me to fight for him.

Instead, I removed my hairpins, left my face bare, and calmly asked His Majesty to grant the couple their wish.

That night, I left the capital.

Three years later, their passionate devotion had turned to resentment.

When the weary crown prince met me on my return and called me Zhang’er, I knew my opportunity had come.

On the night of the empress’s funeral, His Majesty and I spent the entire night together in a side hall.

Everyone in the capital called me shameless.

After all, the empress was my own aunt, and His Majesty was her husband—my uncle by marriage.

Before that, I had been meant to marry the crown prince.

But Yuan Xiujin did not like me.

He despised my coarse origins, sneered at the Meng family’s rustic ways, and thought us unworthy of the Eastern Palace.

As if I thought any better of him.

Father and son, yet so different.

Yuan Xiujin let a woman lead him by the nose.

Yuan Zhaoyu already held the empire in his hand.

Since he would not let me become his crown princess, I would simply have to become his father’s consort instead.

The Immortal Lord dug out my spirit root to save his beloved junior sister.

With tears streaming down my face, I gently talked him around.

I coaxed him—and his entire sect—into signing a life-and-death pact.

As long as I did nothing wrong, everyone in the sect had to keep me safe.

Break that promise, and the backlash would consume their souls and reduce them to ashes.

Then my enemies began turning up at the mountain gates, one after another.

The leaders of both the righteous and demonic paths surrounded the sect, demanding my life.

Everyone in the sect went pale.

They stood no chance.

The Immortal Lord fought his way out of the encirclement, drenched in blood, and turned to me in desperation.

I spread my hands helplessly.

“Either kill them for me.”

I drew my sword at my leisure.

“Or, if you can’t, give me back my spirit root.

I’ll do it myself.”

I was a spy.

While posing as a courtesan to deceive a man, I ran into my polished, scholarly foster brother.

His eyes held a dangerous gleam.

“Short of money?”

“What business is it of yours?”

He gave a cold laugh.

“I’ll make it my business for the rest of your life.”

There was a fool in my village who was always muttering: “Rock, scissors, cloth…”

The order had to be right.

If anyone got it wrong, he flew into a rage.

One day, a body turned up in the abandoned mud-brick house beside mine.

Even I became a suspect.

When the police carried the body out, it was still wrapped tightly in coarse cloth.

But when the fool saw it, his muttering changed to: “Cloth!

Cloth!

Cloth…”

I thought I understood why his rock, scissors, cloth had to come in that order.

I was the capital’s famous sickly beauty.

When I married into the marquis’s household, everyone was betting on how long I would live.

Everyone knew the young lord had a beloved concubine.

He married me because I would die soon and stay out of her way.

In the bridal chamber, he watched without a flicker of concern as his concubine kicked over my medicine bowl.

“She won’t live long anyway.

Don’t waste good things on her.”

What he didn’t know was this: that bowl had never held medicine to keep me alive.

It held the muscle-weakening powder my father had been dosing me with.

Without the medicine, I was perfectly well.

My mother was the finest embroiderer in the capital.

Even the emperor praised the wedding gown she made for the Princess Royal.

The princess rewarded her lavishly.

That very night, she severed Mother’s hands with golden scissors.

“One gown like this in the world, for me alone, is quite enough.”

Mother’s blood covered the floor.

The princess found it filthy, so she burned our entire residence to the ground, saying the blaze was festive enough to suit her.

On her wedding day, the princess became the most beautiful bride in the capital.

That same year, she became pregnant.

I entered her residence carrying the golden scissors that had killed my mother.

“Your servant has come to offer Your Highness the most beautiful garment of all.”