All Novel

In Jiangnan, the Shen Family possessed a secret technique passed down through generations: the ability to embroider a person’s final appearance before they died.

For thirty years, my father embroidered for the powerful and elite, never once making a mistake.

That was until he died in his embroidery room, and on the Death Portrait before him-depicting a face bleeding from every orifice-was me.

It has been ten years since I died.

After a decade, I have finally seen the first person to come and pay their respects at my grave.

It is a man, limping as he walks toward me.

It is my father.

On the final day of the divorce cooling-off period, I waited for Yuan Shiyu at the Civil Affairs Bureau for three hours.

The person who eventually arrived wasn’t him; instead, it was a hospital representative delivering a critical condition notice and a last letter.

Everyone thought he had finally agreed to let me go. Only I knew that the first sentence of that letter read: Wantang, I’m sorry, I really can’t make it this time.

After an argument with Zhou Mingyu, I jumped from the thirtieth floor with my five-month-old daughter in my arms.

When I opened my eyes again, time had actually returned to yesterday.

On this day, because the baby wouldn’t stop crying, Zhou Mingyu snapped at me for the first time: “Chen Ran, you don’t have a mother yourself, so it’s no wonder you don’t even know how to take care of a child!”

Our relationship had always been good, so I thought he hadn’t meant it; I blamed it on my own volatile temper and for taking things too hard.

But time continued to flow backward, and I discovered that this wasn’t the first time Zhou Mingyu had said such things: During my postpartum recovery month, he joked, “If your mother were still alive, my mother wouldn’t be so exhausted.”

On the day I was hospitalized to give birth, in response to the nurse’s questions, he said with a smile, “Her mother passed away, so who else could be her caregiver but me?”

At our wedding, he held my hand and vowed, “Chen Ran, I will definitely take good care of you in your mother’s stead!”

… It turned out he had always cared about the fact that I didn’t have a mother.

But the strange thing was, why didn’t I have any memory of my mother at all?

Had she ever truly existed?

If time continued to flow backward, would I eventually see her?

The daughter of the Yong’an Marquis Estate had committed a grave breach of etiquette within the palace, accidentally shattering a relic of the Late Emperor.

Furious, Grand Princess Anping ordered her to be seized and brought back to the Princess Manor immediately.

That night. The Heir of the Yong’an Marquis Estate knelt at the foot of my steps.

I reclined on my daybed, my fingertip tapping rhythmically against the armrest.

My gaze swept slowly over him, tracing the line of his brow, his Adam’s apple, and the breadth of his shoulders.

After a long silence, I finally uttered a single word: “Strip.” Those slender hands, which had once composed the most brilliant of essays, trembled as they reached for the buttons of his slate-blue official uniform.

During filming, the female lead intentionally shattered my Jadeite Earring, the one that never left my side.

My face turned deathly pale as I gasped. My Best Actor boyfriend, however, urged me to be magnanimous.

But no one saw the Companion Greed Maiden, sealed for five years, whispering in my ear: “Whose fortune shall we take first?”

In my third year as a palace maid, I encountered a child.

Floating above her head were the words: Villainess Supporting Character.

I wondered to myself, just how wicked could a seven-year-old child be?

That was until I saw her shove a palace maid to the ground.

Beat the eunuchs. And ruthlessly berate the head governess.

Only then did I realize she was absolutely right to hit them.

I had been wanting to thrash those people for a long time myself.

This wasn’t some Villainess Supporting Character; this was my angel baby.

Later, she asked me, “Don’t you hate me?”

I replied, “Of course not. I like you as much as there are stars in the sky, grains of sand in the desert, and drops of water in the ocean.”

Blushing yet acting with her usual haughty pride, she tucked her hand into my palm.

“You will attend to me tonight.”

Unwilling to spend my life as a slave, I set my sights on Yun Jian, the young master of a local wealthy family.

Through countless schemes and every trick in the book, I managed to enter the Yun Manor to serve him.

I deceived him for his heart, gathered his wealth, and coaxed him into supporting me so I could travel to the capital for the imperial examinations and become an official.

“I, Jiang Rui, swear to the heavens that when I become a Female Chancellor or a high-ranking minister, I will personally petition His Majesty to grant us a marriage.”

Later, as I navigated the shifting tides of the imperial court, my career soared. I had long since forgotten the son of a mere local merchant.

While playing chess with me, the Seventh Prince would drop subtle hints, asking whether I was already betrothed.

Meanwhile, the Chief Censor-whom I had outperformed in every possible way-caught wind of this. He grabbed the sleeve of my official robes after the morning court session, refusing to let go.

Gritting his teeth, he hissed, “The sons of my Shen Family do not marry unless they are the primary spouse.”

In the midst of this overwhelming headache, His Majesty summoned me.

When I entered for the audience, a familiar figure was standing by his side.

“My dear minister, the Empress’s nephew wishes to file a complaint against you for abandoning your husband and breaking your promise.”

Father Emperor is a transmigrator, and I have been able to hear his inner thoughts since the moment I was born.

[Huh, so this is the future villainess? She’s so soft and adorable; how did she end up turning out so wrong? No, I have to protect her. My daughter can only be the lead heroine.]

In the beginning, that was exactly what he did. He taught me self-respect and self-love, told me not to depend on men, and said that girls could hold up half the sky.

But later, things changed. He looked at me with eyes full of loathing, claiming I didn’t have a shred of the decorum expected of a young lady, and forced me to kneel in the Buddhist hall to copy Buddhist scriptures. And I could no longer hear his inner thoughts.

At my grand wedding to my Boyfriend, a stranger pushed open the door and walked in elegantly.

Who is he? What does he want? Is he here to bless me, or to destroy me?

When the man smiled, raised his hand, and lightly pushed me off the rooftop, I finally remembered who he was.

After fate destroyed me once more, it granted me the chance of Rebirth.

Since then I have decided: I will never bow my head or admit defeat. Even if I fall into Avici Hell, I will stop at nothing.