Transmigration

The way I went from a Little Beggar to the Heir Apparent’s fiancée felt like a dream.

That day, I was crouched on the ground, gnawing on a coarse corn bun while watching two nobles argue.

They were like a pair of fighting roosters. It made for excellent dinner entertainment.

The Girl in Red sneered. “I would rather marry a fool or an idiot than ever marry a useless good-for-nothing like you!”

The Brocade-clad Youth roared back, “I would rather marry a chicken, marry a duck…” Halfway through, he pointed at me.

“I’d rather marry this Little Beggar than ever marry you!”

The Girl in Red looked at my dazed, foolish expression and laughed from sheer anger.

Her voice went taut as she said, “Fine! If you don’t marry her, you’re a cowardly bastard!”

For ten years, I was a corporate Head of Administration.

Then I woke up as the legitimate daughter of a marquis.

Only then did I discover that I had landed in a female-led power fantasy about a maid’s rise to glory.

Blessed with the heroine halo, the maid could do everything: manage a household, run shops, organize disaster relief.

Everyone adored her.

Even my own younger brother and fiance became devoted second male leads who protected her at every turn.

In the end, the senior maid became a legendary merchant queen known throughout the realm.

I, meanwhile, grew jealous of the heroine.

Spoiled and willful, I courted disaster at every step until everyone abandoned me and I died alone in a secluded estate.

After a long silence, my professional instincts kicked in.

Household management was simply a logistics support system.

Running shops was supply-chain management.

Disaster relief was an emergency response plan.

Well, wasn’t that convenient?

She was the all-conquering maid with fate on her side.

I was an administrator trying to stay alive.

And survival began with rules.

After I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, I bought three necklaces and hid them in three different places.

“Honey, this is my favorite necklace. Make sure you burn one for me every year on the anniversary of my death, okay?”

With that one sentence, I put a leash on that mad dog Shen Ci.

It made him give up on jumping off a building and throw away the sleeping pills.

Clinging to that promise, he endured year after year.

Until a young girl appeared by Shen Ci’s side. She was innocent and kind, like a warm little sun.

Shen Ci moved out of our marital home and sent away the puppy I had raised.

By the third anniversary of my death, Shen Ci didn’t come.

I slipped into his dream and put on my cutest act.

“Honey, you’re such a dummy. You still haven’t found this year’s necklace.”

Shen Ci, who had always chattered endlessly at me, was strangely silent now.

After a long time, he finally said, “Qingqing, it’s been three years. I need to start a new life too.”

I transmigrated.

Straight into a run-down brothel.

The lowest, dirtiest corner of Tongzhi Alley.

When I first arrived, my immediate thought was to kill the madam.

Then escape with my life.

But I soon realized the hard part wasn’t killing the madam.

The real challenge was figuring out how to stay alive after I did.

I was a palace maid serving at the emperor’s side when I accidentally started seeing floating comments.

The comments said the emperor was hopelessly love-brained.

By day, when Consort Gui treated him coldly, he acted as if he couldn’t care less.

By night, he would sob under the covers, terrified his eyes would turn red from crying, then sneak out of bed in the middle of the night to press ice against them.

I didn’t believe it. Was this really my cold-blooded, ruthless, domineering emperor?

Later, I discovered the comments were right.

He really was love-brained.

Only, the target of his obsession had become me.

But I… didn’t love him.

The villain was rich, but depressed.

I was poor, and worse, I was the heroine of an angst novel.

My parents were destined to die, leaving me and my grandmother to depend on each other.

Then, when Grandma fell seriously ill, I would have no choice but to grovel at the male lead’s feet.

He would torment me physically and emotionally, lock me up, make me miscarry, and in the end, I would die in despair.

Only then would he be filled with regret.

I figured all of it came down to being broke, so I decided to throw my lot in with the villain.

I found the villain quietly slitting his wrists and, fighting off the dizziness from low blood sugar, tried to talk him down.

“I’m not here to stop you. I just wanted to discuss whether you could maybe die a little later.”

“You don’t want your assets to go to your dad’s illegitimate son, do you? Are you really okay with them inheriting your money, buying yachts and private jets, and traveling the world?”

“All you have to do is hold on for a few more years. Then you’ll found your own company, become the new darling of the tech industry, and multiply your wealth more than tenfold.”

“I’ll help you take a shortcut. When the time comes, give me a cut, and I’ll help you get rid of Xie Xun.”

The villain’s eyes lit up, but he still looked disdainful.

“You?”

“Be grateful. Besides me, who else is on your side? Your dad? Your mom?”

That stabbed the villain right where it hurt.

Because he was an orphan with both parents still alive.

A week ago, the true heiress of the Cheng family came to our door.

Only then did I learn that I was a fake.

But my biological parents were already dead, so the Cheng family decided to keep raising me.

The heiress who had just returned was very dissatisfied with a fake like me.

Not only did she take away all of Dad, Mom, and my older brother’s attention, she also wanted to reclaim the fiancé who should have been hers.

I didn’t really care.

I only wanted to scrape by and keep a roof over my head.

But when I tried to give my fiancé back to her, the man who had always been gentle wore a dark expression I had never seen before.

He locked an arm tightly around my waist, lowered his head, and looked at me with an air of effortless menace.

“Yangyang, ever since we were little, I’ve known you could only be mine.”

Just then, the heiress pushed open the door.

She blinked, revealing two adorable little canine teeth as she smiled.

“Brother Yan, didn’t you promise Auntie that you’d have dinner with me?”

Strangely, I suddenly heard the roar inside her head.

—“That fucking perverted male lead—stay away from the heroine; she belongs to the second male lead!”

After transmigrating into the body of a CEO’s stand-in for his unattainable first love, I started playing mind games with him.

“Since you’re treating me like her, why don’t you send me a picture of your abs first? Let me see what I’m working with.”

“You can’t even seduce me, and you think you can seduce her?”

I was the poor scholarship student at an elite private high school. That day, I suddenly started seeing floating comments:

[The male lead is cutting class and climbing over the wall from the school’s back garden, but he fell into the water! What do we do? The male lead can’t swim!]

[Where’s the female lead? Save him!]

[The female lead is sick today, so she’s not at school. Sigh, what a shame. Whoever saves the male lead will gain a ton of favorability with him.]

I wasn’t the female lead of this story. I was just cannon fodder.

At that moment, I lazily propped my chin in my hand and continued listening to math class.

Please. What good would the male lead’s favorability do me? I wasn’t going to save him.

He was the male lead, anyway. It wasn’t like he’d actually drown.

I wasn’t some kind, innocent little flower. I only cared about two things: money and grades.

The floating comments kept rolling by:

[Whoever saves the male lead will probably get a huge reward from his family, right? I wonder who’ll be that lucky. With how rich his family is, even a little pocket change from them would be enough to live on for a lifetime.]

Money!?

I shot to my feet. Behind me, my chair toppled over with a loud clang.

My best friend and I ended up inside the same novel.

She was the scheming second male lead’s hopeless admirer.

I was the obsessive villain’s substitute lover.

In public, we pined for men who didn’t love us.

In private, we spent their money like there was no tomorrow.

After three years of living it up, the heroine—the woman they supposedly truly loved—came back.

Once we learned that both men would lose their minds over her, my best friend packed a little bag and knocked on my door late at night.

“I’ve saved enough.

Have you?”

“Not quite,” I said.

“But I can spend yours.”

So we faked our deaths and ran away together.

Three years later, she had the misfortune to run into her ex-husband.

“I’ll cover for you!”

I told her.

“Run!”

Then I turned around and walked straight into a solid chest.

The obsessive villain calmly undid his tie and bound my hands.

“Try getting away yourself first.”