All Novel

When the zombie outbreak hit, my two-faced best friend locked me out.

Before I could find somewhere to hide, the ten-year-old next door bit me on the butt.

He was little, and his teeth weren’t much good.

Becoming a zombie hadn’t made him much tougher, either.

Once he’d bitten me, he stiffly shuffled away.

Watching him go, I suddenly felt a little embarrassed.

Suppose zombies ruled the world years from now, and someone asked how we’d all turned.

Everyone else would have fought off a whole pack of vicious zombies before finally going down.

Or sacrificed themselves heroically to save humanity.

Was I supposed to say I’d been lousy at hiding and some brat shorter than me had bitten my butt?

I felt pretty miserable.

But not for long.

Then I decided to stop trying.

The night Grandma draped the red cloak over my shoulders, there was still unwashed blood tucked beneath her fingernails.

She told me to take a cake to the Cabin in the Woods to visit “sick Grandma,” yet I had seen her with my own eyes returning from that very cabin only last night.

The Cui family precepts held that a daughter of the Cui clan married no merchant and became no concubine.

So when the edict naming me a Noble Consort arrived, the great aristocratic families all assumed that the new emperor meant to humiliate our house.

And yet I did not hesitate to break with my family and entered the palace in that small sedan chair.

Because I had already died twice.

This was the third life I had been given.

My very first day in the palace scared the hell out of me.

Did everyone here have a thing for pigs?

The emperor was fat enough to be sent to slaughter, yet these women were desperately in love with him, practically beating each other bloody for a chance to sleep with him.

Afraid he might eat me in the middle of the night, I pleaded illness to avoid his attentions.

That was how I met the other women in the palace who stayed out of the competition.

They didn’t like the emperor.

Their hearts belonged to the Third Prince, whom they praised as a gentleman without equal.

Then I spotted an alien at a palace banquet, and they insisted he was the Third Prince.

The guy’s face was an equilateral triangle.

Certainly no one else like him in the world.

I’d planned to keep my head down in the palace for the rest of my life.

But one day, as I strolled by the lotus pond, the emperor smiled at me with his fat pig face.

“I’m the Third Prince.

May I ask which palace you belong to, my lady?”

Your Majesty, do you take me for an idiot?

My junior brother curses every peeping tom to be struck by lightning—and when forty-nine bolts come for me, I discover I was the immortal undergoing a mortal tribulation all along.

Between a shameless master, a lovesick senior brother, a possessive silver dragon, and one disastrous scheme involving aphrodisiac tea, surviving my sect may be harder than ascending to heaven.

But when my memories return, so does the truth: the beautiful junior brother I meant to seduce, kill, and abandon is actually the husband who has waited seven thousand years to take me home.

I stayed by his side from his impoverished youth until he held the world in his palm.

Yet, I was forced to watch as he elevated my half-sister to the status of equal wife and executed my entire family.

I met a miserable end. Given a second chance at life, I watch as his back bows in defeat, his body trembling with regret.

I burn our marriage contract. I wish him a meteoric rise and a boundless future.

A boundless future, without me.

I had been able to see the floating comments since I was very small.

They told me I would spend seven bitter years beside a fallen prince, only to be cast aside when he became emperor.

He would regret it when I was dying, turn back time, and treasure me in another life.

The comments told me to hold on.

But if happiness was certain, why couldn’t I have it in this life?

When the Fifth Prince fell from favor, I was the first maid to pay for a transfer.

The comments went wild.

Without me, how was their story supposed to continue?

I spent seven years confined with the deposed crown prince, tasting poison for him and taking arrows meant for him.

Again and again, I barely escaped death.

Yet after he ascended the throne, he made his childhood sweetheart his empress.

I remained nothing more than a lowly palace maid.

Everyone knew he despised me.

But when I finally came of age and prepared to leave the palace, he seized my wrist and demanded, ‘Do you have a heart at all?’

When I was five, my father brought home a handsome deaf boy and made him my child husband.

I prided myself on being a progressive woman; since childhood, I always told people he was my brother. I never expected that, more than ten years later, one drunken night,

I slept with him – and forgot about it.

Before my grandmother passed away, she left me three brocade pouches.

“On the seventh day after my death, give these to the seventh person who offers incense.”

On the day of the funeral, I followed her instructions to the letter. When the man who received them opened the brocade pouch, his face turned pale with terror, and he fled in a panic.

It wasn’t until later that I learned the man was a rapist and a murderer.

He had intended to target me that very night.

The first brocade pouch was filled with his criminal record.

She told me to open the second brocade pouch before I got married and consummated the union.

This time, the brocade pouch felt very thin.

Inside, there was only one word.

“RUN!!!”