Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I had transmigrated into a run-down brothel.

The lowest, filthiest corner of Tongzhi Alley.

Inside a row of dilapidated earthen hovels, shabby bamboo curtains divided the space into cramped cubicles.

Yellow mud mixed with broken bricks had been piled up to form a crude heated brick bed.

Wind howled in through the gaps between the bricks.

In the entire hovel, the only two things blocking the wind were the hard brick bed beneath me and the man on top of me, though he leaked air from all sides just the same.

When I first regained consciousness, a man with a mouthful of yellow teeth was spitting a thick gob of phlegm straight onto my face.

“Pah. You’re like a block of wood. Are you dead or what? What a damn buzzkill.”

My scattered consciousness quietly returned.

Fragments of memories that did not belong to me flooded into my mind, little by little.

The man was right. This was a dead person.

To be precise, just moments ago, the original consciousness in this body had already died.

When these eyes opened again, what had squeezed into this battered shell was a brand-new soul from another world.

Full of resentment, the man kicked me hard in the waist.

“Some noble family’s daughter from the Capital? Still nothing but a dead fish.”

“Boring.”

The faded cotton curtain at the door was lifted.

The bone-scraping winter wind poured in, slicing through the seams of my skin and into my bones.

It carried away the tiny bit of warmth this body had barely managed to gather.

“This woman won’t do.”

The man fastened his belt, cursing under his breath. Then he turned back to spit again and began haggling with the madam.

“Doesn’t even know how to serve a man. An untrained piece of goods, and you still dare charge me twenty coins? Your place is getting better and better at business…”

The madam’s fawning laughter gradually drifted away until I could no longer hear it.

The curtain fell.

Shadows covered the room again.

And covered me.

A new man stood by the brick bed, his sticky, frivolous gaze sweeping over me from head to toe.

Like a butcher stripping meat from bone, he inspected every inch of exposed skin.

His fat, heavy body, thick with the stench of sweat and body odor, pressed down.

Once more, nauseating friction rasped against the straw mat.

No conversation. No pleasantries.

In a brothel this low and broken, no one cared about music, chess, calligraphy, or painting. No one needed tenderness or affection.

All they needed was the urgent release of unchecked lust.

My pale, slender fingers dug into the earthen bed, and damp dirt soaked with sweat lodged beneath my nails.

The dullness in my eyes sharpened again. Strength gathered in my limbs, bit by bit.

At last, my gradually clearing mind seized control of the body.

But the hatred that belonged to this body’s original owner still refused to fade.

It screamed, filling every corner of my mind.

Kill him.

Escape.

I can’t stay in a place like this.

Not even if I die.

And so, at the very moment the man’s panting climbed to its peak,

my groping fingers finally found the object from this body’s memories.

The next second, a sharpened wooden hairpin pierced through flesh with a faint hiss.

The sound was so soft that it was easily swallowed by the man’s furious roar.

Yet it was also deafening. The pulsing of blood pumping from a severed vessel beat like war drums, pounding against my eardrums until they hurt.

The courtyard erupted into chaos.

The curtain was flung up, and a jumble of hurried footsteps rushed in.

Someone grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out from beneath the man’s body.

Then someone else kicked me hard, sending me into a corner.

My head slammed against the earthen wall.

Dust sifted down, once again covering my already blurred vision.

Before I lost consciousness, the last three words I heard were the madam’s shrill, furious curse.

“You money-losing wretch…”

I died.