Chapter One: Jun Ci Will Not Marry Him

"Miss! Miss!"

Shen Nanyuan pressed her fingers to her temples, propping her chin on one hand, her expression languid. “What is it, Qingrui?”

“Young Master Jun is here! He’s talking to the General in the main hall—you should hurry over.”

A trace of weariness unconsciously crept onto Shen Nanyuan’s face.

Even after a nap, it all felt unreal.

She had transmigrated into a novel.

And not just any novel, but the one she’d just finished reading.

Shen Nanyuan, daughter of the Duke Protector, the cherished jewel of the Shen family. Her father, Shen Yi, was the famed General who defended the realm. Though born into a family of martial valor, she had been raised delicately, her beauty legendary, the pride of the household—everyone doted on her, as if fearing she might melt in their mouths or shatter in their hands.

Yet, in the original story, this character was nothing but an innocent casualty.

The male lead was a prince lost from childhood, later found by the servants of the Duke Protector’s household. For ten years, he suffered abuse and humiliation there. Shen Yi, often stationed at the border, had no idea what the lost prince looked like, so the male lead buried every injustice deep within his heart. When he returned to power, he took brutal revenge, exterminating the entire Shen family under a fabricated charge.

Hundreds perished without exception.

None died more miserably than the original Shen Nanyuan’s younger brother, Shen Jinyu, and the servants who had tormented the male lead for sport.

Shen Nanyuan was not a malicious antagonist, nor a virtuous white lotus—she barely counted as a fifth supporting female. Though her presence was minor, the author’s few strokes painted her as endearing, and her tragic fate evoked much regret among readers.

She had been one of those readers, never expecting that only moments after posting her thoughts online, she would awaken as this unfortunate young lady.

As she remained silent, Qingrui hesitated. “Miss? If you don’t hurry, Young Master Jun might leave.”

Young Master Jun...

Jun Ci.

The one Shen Nanyuan once loved in the novel, and to whom she was betrothed since childhood—the only son of the Minister of Revenue. Yet his heart belonged to another, and he had never had any affection for Shen Nanyuan. He repeatedly tried to break off the engagement, but with his father’s interference, he never succeeded.

In the end, when Shen Nanyuan knew her death was imminent, she begged her father to dissolve the engagement, so Jun Ci would not be implicated.

Shortly afterward, the Duke Protector’s household was destroyed, Shen Nanyuan perishing at nineteen.

Shen Nanyuan pressed her brow, a sudden heaviness settling over her heart.

By her reckoning, the Shen family had only three years left to live.

Qingrui, noticing her young lady’s furrowed brows and troubled look, ventured, “Are you still upset that Young Master Jun forgot your birthday?”

“You found out yesterday, didn’t you? Young Master Jun caught a cold and hasn’t left his house for days.”

With earnest concern, Qingrui continued, “Now that he’s recovered, he came to visit the general—apparently to discuss your engagement.”

A trace of irony flickered across Shen Nanyuan’s face. Her voice was cool, “Is that so?”

He had not come to discuss the engagement at all; it was merely that Shen Nanyuan had come of age a year ago, and Jun Ci had shown no initiative—forcing Shen Yi to summon him.

It was pitiable, really; a great general defending the realm, yet having to humble himself before a mere deputy minister for the sake of his daughter.

Shen Nanyuan rose. “Let’s go—you lead the way.”

Qingrui finally relaxed, though she was puzzled why her mistress wanted her to walk ahead. Still, worried that Jun Ci might leave if they were late, she hurried on.

Shen Nanyuan, however, was unaccustomed to the layers of clothing and the heavy hair ornaments. After a few steps, beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She frowned and called out to Qingrui.

“Why are you in such a rush? Jun Ci won’t leave anytime soon.”

Qingrui apologized with a sheepish smile. “I was just worried we might be late.”

She dabbed Shen Nanyuan’s forehead with a handkerchief. “It’s rare for Young Master Jun to visit…”

Qingrui truly cared for the original Shen Nanyuan.

She hoped her mistress could marry the one she loved. Unfortunately, Jun Ci was not someone worthy of entrusting a lifetime.

Shen Nanyuan had no intention of following the novel’s plot any longer.

She would not marry Jun Ci, and she would save the Shen family.

Since she now inhabited this world, she would live well in it.

Once she had rested, Shen Nanyuan said, “Let’s go.”

Qingrui nodded, leading the way. They crossed the garden and were nearing the main hall when voices drifted from a nearby corner.

Chattering—clearly gossiping about something interesting.

“Did you hear? This morning Young Master got into a fight at Bright Moon Restaurant—someone stole his private room, and he came away with scratches on his face.”

“I heard! It’s all over the capital. Looks like Young Master will be punished later.”

“Tsk, Young Master vents his anger outside, but when he can’t swallow it, the servants will suffer.”

The rest was indistinct. When Qingrui noticed her mistress had fallen behind, she turned and found Shen Nanyuan trembling violently, her face ashen and frightening.

Alarmed, Qingrui steadied her. “Miss, are you all right?”

Shen Nanyuan closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and gritted her teeth as she marched toward the source of the voices, her brows tightly knit.

This plot was all too familiar…

If she wasn’t mistaken, the male lead was about to appear.

The one who, three years from now, would slaughter the entire Shen household.

The servants soon noticed her and bowed hastily. “Young Miss.”

“The servant you were talking about—where is he now?”

Her voice was taut. The servants exchanged glances, then replied, “He should be at… Clear Breeze Pavilion.”

Clear Breeze Pavilion—Shen Jinyu’s residence.

Shen Nanyuan immediately turned to Qingrui. “Lead the way. Quickly, to Clear Breeze Pavilion.”

Seeing her mistress so anxious, Qingrui dared not delay. She hurried ahead, and before they even arrived, they saw servants ahead whispering and gossiping. Shen Nanyuan’s heart clenched; she quickened her pace and entered.

A faint scent of blood hung in the air.

In the center of the courtyard, a frail figure knelt on the ground, his back a mass of fresh, gruesome wounds.