All Novel

I transmigrated into a world of horror, and by accident, I stole and ate the Bodhisattva’s offerings.

But the Bodhisattva did not blame me. Instead, They told me to leave that place and never come back.

After I became an adult, a huge sum of money inexplicably appeared in my account.

Someone told me I must not accept it.

Because in another world, someone was making offerings to the dead-me.

Half skeptical and half convinced, I took the money.

But that night, I heard the Bodhisattva’s whisper again.

“Run…”

“The thing from that world…”

“It has found you.”

Everyone in my family had sickly bones.

My eldest sister coughed three times for every three steps, spat blood every third day, and fainted every fifth.

My brother’s bones broke at a touch—one a month, seven or eight times a year.

I alone had a head of iron and a body of bronze.

I could ram a peach tree with my forehead to bring down the fruit.

The tree shook, the peaches fell, and I was perfectly fine.

When I was seven, an eminent monk passed by.

One look at me, and he blurted out: “Bronze skin over bone.

A demon born.”

I couldn’t be bothered to listen.

I charged him headfirst and knocked him flat on his back.

It took him ages to wake up.

When he did, he laughed instead of getting angry and asked my parents: “Would you have your children live long lives, sound in body and bone?”

“Take one bone each from your eldest daughter and your son.

Nurture them beside your youngest daughter’s heart, then cut them out when she turns eighteen.”

“Your eldest daughter will then rise like the sovereign moon, and your son will be the richest man in the realm.”

My parents trembled.

“And this girl?”

The monk held my wrist, half closed his eyes, and chuckled out a little song: “No future as a human.

As a beast, she’ll have plenty of room to roam.”

I am a Jiangshi.

My bones have hung on an ancient tree in the wilderness for over two hundred years, absorbing all the Moon Yin Energy.

The Night Patrolling Deity said that if I endured until the thirteenth day of the fifth month in the Ji-Mao year, my Cultivation would reach Indestructible Bone, and I could become a Spirit Monster, free from the Heavenly Dao Reincarnation.

I was quite pleased with myself, already pondering which spot in the mountains I should choose for a Cave Abode to become the Deer Cottage Immortal.

But then, a Flower Picking Scholar returning home for a funeral passed through the wilderness and ordered my bones to be taken down from the tree and buried in a pit.

He buried me…

Buried me…

Damn him, he’s dead for sure!

Ten years after graduation, at a class reunion in Beijing, I saw him again.

Among a group of male classmates nearing thirty and starting to put on a bit of weight, he still looked as young and handsome as ever.

We sat far apart at the table and didn’t exchange a single word.

When the reunion ended, a light rain began to fall, and I hurried to leave.

To my surprise, he stopped my car.

“Xiao Shan.” His eyes were just as clear and transparent as they had always been.

Perhaps it was because of the rain, but there seemed to be a faint hint of urgency in his voice.

“Could you… give me a lift?”

On my first night inside the novel, the villain barged into my practice room.

Then he found himself staring at the male lead and the second male lead, already seated on meditation cushions.

After a long silence, he said, “Move over.

Make room for me.”

“There’s no room,” the male lead said.

“There really isn’t.”

I surveyed the cushions packed across the floor.

“I think we can squeeze in one more.”

“Can I touch your tail?”

Twenty years ago, I used that same pitiful act to lure a snow fox into a cage and sell him to people from a zoo.

Twenty years later, I was on a blind date when a beautiful silver-haired youth sat down beside me, gently linked his arm through mine, and pouted.

“Honey, why are you going on blind dates behind my back?

Don’t you like me anymore?”

A cup of coffee hit me in the face.

The woman opposite knocked her chair aside and stormed out.

“Gay men who trick women into marrying them can go to hell!”

I wiped the coffee off my face and turned to him.

“Who are you?”

The silver-haired youth had already resumed his icy aloofness.

He sneered.

“The Fox King.

Here for revenge.”

A friend of mine was developing a residential complex for a real estate company in Xi’an when they discovered an ancient tomb. To avoid delaying construction, they chose to cover it up and report nothing. But none of them expected that someone would write a line on the wall of the work shed in red pen. Rules of the corpse-nurturing ground: 1. Do not feed the corpses raw meat. 2. If you see a child under the age of ten, close your eyes immediately. 3. Eat the rats.

For three nights in a row, my maid said the same thing in her sleep:

“It seems one of the chickens in the backyard is missing.”

I simply assumed she was exhausted from her daily chores and thought nothing of it.

That was until we encountered a landslide on our way to the Capital. My maid was killed in the disaster, but I was rescued by soldiers who arrived just in time.

Trembling and lost, I sought out the commanding officer, intending to reveal my true identity as the daughter of the Provincial Commander.

He glanced at the maid’s clothes I was wearing and suddenly asked:

“Are the hens still brooding lately?”

The second young master said contraceptive decoctions were harmful, so he could not bear to make me drink them.

Yet when I became pregnant, he forced an abortifacient down my throat.

When I resisted, he scolded me: “In a family like ours, there is no question of an illegitimate eldest son being born before the lawful wife has even entered the household.”

“I have spoiled you for too many years. You no longer know your place, or you would never have entertained such ambitions.”

Was there something wrong with his head?

If he did not want children, then he could die without an heir.

My imperial sister’s tomcat set his sights on my female cat and was rejected.

My mother consort ordered me to apologize, so I did.

The tom still refused to give up, and my cat’s other suitors beat him up.

Then Mother Consort told me to kill my “femme-fatale cat” to appease my sister…

This time, I refused.

“Think about who she is and where you stand,” Mother Consort advised.

Understanding dawned on me. “Oh. It’s because my mother is a coward.”

My mother might be a coward, but I was not.

Neither was my cat—she was, in fact, the greatest feline beauty in the entire imperial harem.