Short story

By day, Song Wenxi is presented as a chaste Daoist nun; by night, Yuzhen Convent sells her to powerful men.

After her abused younger sister dies, Wenxi refuses to accept the same fate and uses a pregnancy to enter the household of Gu Zhun, heir to the Prince of Pingnan.

Inside the princely estate, she discovers that noble wives, concubines, and prostitutes are all trapped by the same brutal order.

To avenge the dead and free the women still imprisoned at Yuzhen Convent, Wenxi turns the desires of the men around her into weapons and sets out to make sure the long night finally ends.

When I asked my husband of one year to end our contract marriage, he agreed without hesitation.

That same night, I found an anonymous post from a man desperate to win back the wife who wanted to divorce him.

The details were suspiciously familiar, so I created a fake account as a love guru and offered to coach him through the final month.

To my astonishment, the brilliant and untouchable CEO I had married turned out to be a shy, hopeless romantic who had loved me since high school.

As every absurd piece of advice brings us closer, I must decide whether the marriage I planned to leave is the love story I never knew I wanted.

The day Father strangled Mama to death, a fox spirit took over her body.

I caught her just as she was digging out Father’s heart.

She fumbled around trying to hide it, then deliberately let her fox muzzle show.

“I killed him, not your mother. Your mother was a good woman.”

“Oh,” I said, bringing over a clay pot.

“Wouldn’t that heart taste better stewed?”

I transmigrated into the story as the male lead’s sex-crazed wife. Every day, I pestered him to do it with me, endlessly demanding and never knowing restraint.

The couch, the bedroom, the kitchen, the floor-to-ceiling windows…

Only when the hatred value soared to 99 did I realize in horror that I hadn’t transmigrated into a smut novel at all, but a clean romance!

Su Yu was actually the kind of male lead who was cold and abstinent when it came to sex!

From then on, I lived in constant fear, treading on eggshells and never daring to cling to him again. As soon as night fell, I’d head to a hotel and not come home.

I even took the initiative to ask for a divorce.

I hoped it would make him hate me a little less.

But the man finally snapped. Eyes red, he erupted and locked me down in a pathologically unrestrained grip, every word crazed:

“Why don’t you cling to me anymore?”

“Is it because I’m getting old, or because that XL one outside has already satisfied your appetite?”

I took an arrow for my husband and suffered grave internal injuries.

After four years recuperating on an estate in the south, I returned to the capital and found another woman had taken my place.

My son relied on her, my daughter adored her, my mother-in-law valued her, and even in our marriage bed, my husband called out her name.

I could not bear it and made a scene.

Together, they drove me to my death so the obstacle I had become would disappear and they could live happily as one family.

For twenty years, I wandered as a ghost and watched the end they brought upon themselves.

Then I was reborn on the road home.

I had returned.

“Don’t go back to the estate yet; I want to visit the Empress Dowager in the palace,” I said.

My mistress prides herself on being a virtuous wife, even as she forces her husband’s bedmaids to drink mercury-laced contraceptive draughts.

When one girl dies and another is sold, my mistress chooses me as the next woman for her husband’s bed.

She does not know that I was once a modern physician—or that I have stopped waiting for mercy.

If this household refuses to recognize its servants as people, I will teach its masters the price of treating women as things.

After rescuing my young nephew from the water, I went to the east wing to change my clothes.

But my brother-in-law, Zhao Hong, chose that exact moment to shove the door open and barge in, forcing me into a marriage with him as his second wife.

On the night before the wedding, my legitimate mother personally brought me a bowl of Sterilization Decoction.

I pushed the bowl away and looked up at her. “If you dare force me to drink it, the first thing I’ll do is make sure the Zhao Family has no descendants. Do you believe me?”

My legitimate mother flew into a rage and immediately went to complain to Zhao Hong.

Zhao Hong sneered. “Scheming women like her aren’t fit to bear my children.”

My eight-year-old nephew shouted too,

“Bad woman! You’re not fit to be my mother!”

I looked at Zhao Hong. “Since I’m not fit to bear your children, then don’t come to my bed.”

“From now on, the child’s food, clothing, lodging, schooling, future prospects, and dignity in front of the nobles… none of it has anything to do with me.”

“If my lord thinks I’m so scheming, perhaps he should raise the child himself.”

Before I transmigrated here, I worked in HR at a major tech company.

Aside from competence, the job also required knowing how to spot workplace PUA when you saw it.

I am the only mortal in a xianxia drama—the lowly tool sacrificed to an immortal-demon romance.

I schemed, endured every humiliation, and fought only to survive, yet after my death, every immortal despised me.

“Dying was one thing. What a pity she sullied the snow.”

After being reborn, I watched the live comments reveal the plot, swallowed my blood and tears, and began playing the most fragile, kindhearted heroine imaginable.

Little by little, I tested the personas the audience loved most, until they adored me—until they went mad for me.

Then I would lay this world of immortals and demons beneath my feet.

Who could ever guess that Fairy Xueyi, the peerless prodigy unseen in ten thousand years, was only a mortal?

The night I went to collect Prince Jing’s corpse, I saw my own jade bracelet and sleeping robe inside the coffin. My husband, returned from the dead, choked me and said, “Lanyin, die once in my place.”

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to three months ago. This time, I will be the one collecting their corpses first.

In my second year at the army brothel, I became pregnant.

Every soldier who had ever entered my tent fought to claim the child as his own.

Chen Shitou had come to me only once, yet he dropped to his knees and begged, “Miss Yang, I’m about to go into battle with the vanguard. My parents have no child but me. I need to leave them something to remember me by.”

Later, I went to his hometown and met two of the kindest parents in the world.