Madam Has Twelve White-Moonlight Lovers

Madam Has Twelve White Moonlights [Love-Hate Romance + Madam Has Twelve White Moonlights [Love-Hate Romance + Hidden Identities Exposed + Wife-Chasing + Female-Oriented Wish Fulfillment + Rival Suitors + Second-Chance Romance] Song Zhi was passing through Meng County when bandits pursued him. Fortunately, Zhao Jinfeng, the eldest daughter of the Zhao family, saved him. To repay her for saving his life, Song Zhi grudgingly held his nose and privately pledged to marry her. Before he left, the young lady wept so pitifully that anyone would have felt sorry for her. She gave him a family heirloom—a jade pendant engraved with “Twelve”—as a token of their promise, asking him to come take her to the capital and marry her as soon as possible. A year later. Song Zhi rode back to Meng County, racking his brains over how to persuade Zhao Jinfeng to become his concubine, when he happened to see a jade pendant identical to the “family heirloom” she had given him on sale at a street stall for fifty wen! Buy one, get two free! He later found a handbook Zhao Jinfeng had left behind in the courtyard. Written plainly inside was: Song Zhi, Number Twelve. Born into a powerful, well-connected family, outrageously handsome, has abs, and isn’t clingy—very promising. But he has a bad temper and is quick to grow arrogant when indulged. His voice isn’t as nice as Number Nine’s, the student receiving financial support. In a fit of rage, Song Zhi wiped out the nearby bandit stronghold. To his surprise, the bandits confessed without even being questioned, tearfully revealing how Zhao Jinfeng had forced them to hunt down handsome young men day after day so she could swoop in and take advantage of the opportunity to rescue them. Song Zhi was so furious that he coughed up blood on the spot. “Wasn’t Zhao Jinfeng supposed to be dead? Go dig up her grave for me—” Three years later. Zhao Jinfeng had finally found a handsome young man with neither parent alive—and was about to marry him, just as she had wished. On the night before the wedding, a man claiming to be her husband came to her door. His proof was the jade pendant engraved with “Twelve.” Yet beneath the gentle moonlight, a gloomy, ghostlike man stood outside her door, his face full of resentment. He had someone else in his grasp. Song Zhi sneered at her. “Zhao Jinfeng, I’ve caught Number Nine too. Come, I’ll ask you one last time—which of us has the nicer voice?” Hidden Identities Exposed + Wife-Chasing + Female-Oriented Wish Fulfillment + Rival Suitors + Second-Chance Romance] Song Zhi was passing through Meng County when bandits pursued him. Fortunately, Zhao Jinfeng, the eldest daughter of the Zhao family, saved him. To repay her for saving his life, Song Zhi grudgingly held his nose and privately pledged to marry her. Before he left, the young lady wept so pitifully that anyone would have felt sorry for her. She gave him a family heirloom—a jade pendant engraved with “Twelve”—as a token of their promise, asking him to come take her to the capital and marry her as soon as possible. A year later. Song Zhi rode back to Meng County, racking his brains over how to persuade Zhao Jinfeng to become his concubine, when he happened to see a jade pendant identical to the “family heirloom” she had given him on sale at a street stall for fifty wen! Buy one, get two free! He later found a handbook Zhao Jinfeng had left behind in the courtyard. Written plainly inside was: Song Zhi, Number Twelve. Born into a powerful, well-connected family, outrageously handsome, has abs, and isn’t clingy—very promising. But he has a bad temper and is quick to grow arrogant when indulged. His voice isn’t as nice as Number Nine’s, the student receiving financial support. In a fit of rage, Song Zhi wiped out the nearby bandit stronghold. To his surprise, the bandits confessed without even being questioned, tearfully revealing how Zhao Jinfeng had forced them to hunt down handsome young men day after day so she could swoop in and take advantage of the opportunity to rescue them. Song Zhi was so furious that he coughed up blood on the spot. “Wasn’t Zhao Jinfeng supposed to be dead? Go dig up her grave for me—” Three years later. Zhao Jinfeng had finally found a handsome young man with neither parent alive—and wa Chapter 1: The Scroll Has Come to Life! Something was wrong. Very wrong. Su Jin’s boxed lunch had disappeared again. That was the third thing she’d lost today. There was barely room for anything else on her desk besides a battered calligraphy scroll((A traditional Chinese scroll used for displaying calligraphy or painting, often hung on a wall or unrolled for viewing.)). No matter how hard Su Jin racked her brains, she couldn’t figure out where a thief could hide. She lived in a graduate dormitory, with a single room to herself. Apart from a plank bed, an old-fashioned wooden desk, and a wooden chair, there was only a wardrobe. The space beneath the bed was empty. The wardrobe was crammed with clothes; there was no room for anyone to hide inside. To catch the thief, Su Jin had specially bought a camera online and installed it by her bed. From there, it could capture the whole room. When her water cup disappeared too, Su Jin immediately checked the footage. And then she saw something bizarre. The things on her desk vanished into thin air! Unable to believe it, Su Jin rewound the video and watched it several times. They really had just disappeared! A ghost in broad daylight? A chill ran through Su Jin. She didn’t dare stay in the dorm alone, so she grabbed the scroll and fled to the living room. Only when she was about to leave did she realize she’d forgotten her dorm key. Without it, she wouldn’t be able to get back in. Forcing down her panic, Su Jin set the scroll and her phone on the dining table, then sat down in the chair. What should she do now? Call in an exorcist? Or call the police? Su Jin kept picking at the dead skin on her hand, her gaze darting anxiously toward her dorm room. She’d better call the police. Su Jin turned back to get her phone. But the only thing on the table was the scroll. Her phone was nowhere to be seen. Su Jin stared stiffly at the scroll. The fear in her eyes gave way to astonishment. Where was her phone? How could an entire phone just disappear? The disappearance of Su Jin’s water cup and boxed lunch had frightened her, but the phone’s disappearance made her furious. She’d earned the money for it by working a summer job for two whole months. It was the most valuable thing she owned. In her fury, her mind actually cleared. Her things had started disappearing for no reason two days ago. And two days ago was when she’d brought the scroll back from her advisor. That was it. Every time, the things beside the scroll disappeared. Nothing else in the room was affected. She’d just put her phone on the scroll, and then it had vanished. Su Jin was enraged. She snatched up the scroll and shook it hard in the air. “Give me my phone back!” The scroll didn’t move. Su Jin grew even angrier. Her voice was nearly a roar. “If you don’t give my phone back, I’ll burn you!” The scroll seemed to twitch on its own, and the phone suddenly appeared on the dining table. At the sight, Su Jin’s eyes widened in terror. She immediately threw the scroll aside. The scroll really had stolen her things! Could someone please tell her why a scroll would steal things?! … Shen Yubai covered his mouth, struggling to hold back the urge to cough. The pain was so bad that his normally pale face had turned red from holding it in. His long black hair slipped over his shoulders, and his clothes had fallen open from his exertions, revealing his delicate collarbones. He looked so fragile he might shatter at any moment. At last, he made it through the fit and lay back down on the kang((A raised brick or earthen sleeping platform, traditionally warmed by heat from a connected stove or hearth.)). He pulled one corner of the thin quilt over his stomach and quietly surveyed the room he knew all too well with his cold, detached eyes. The quilt was very old, with two patches on the underside. The beams overhead had turned black. A scroll hung on the wall beside the kang, covering a patch where the mud was crumbling away. “Creak!” The old wooden door swung open. A middle-aged woman with her hair wrapped in blue cloth and dressed in gray homespun clothes came in carrying a bowl. Shen Yubai sat up. “Mother.” Madam Luo((In traditional Chinese forms of address, a married woman may be identified by her birth-family surname; Luo is her surname.)) forced a smile. “I made you a bowl of steamed egg custard((A Chinese dish made by steaming beaten eggs and liquid until they form a smooth, tender custard.)). You’ll feel better after you eat it.” As she spoke, she turned and sat down on the edge of the kang. A sinister glint flashed across his phoenix-shaped eyes((A traditional Chinese literary description for elongated eyes, often with slightly upturned outer corners; it describes appearance rather than a supernatural feature.)). “Those people must hate having to part with an egg.” “You’re so sick—you ought to have an egg to build up your strength.” Madam Luo didn’t notice anything unusual about Shen Yubai. She scooped up a heaping spoonful of egg custard and held it to his colorless lips. Shen Yubai was about to speak when his throat started itching again. He turned his head away and pressed a fist to his lips, stifling another groan. Madam Luo hurriedly set the bowl down and stood to pat his back. This time, Shen Yubai couldn’t hold it in. He broke into a violent coughing fit. It felt as though phlegm were stuck in his throat, and he was miserably uncomfortable. But when he finally coughed it up, what came out was a pool of blood. Madam Luo went white with fright. She rushed forward to cover it, but Shen Yubai’s shoulder blocked her. “Don’t touch it. Consumption((An older name for tuberculosis, an infectious disease historically associated with chronic coughing and sometimes coughing up blood.)) is contagious.” Panting, Shen Yubai said, “You should go.” Madam Luo’s eyes immediately reddened. “I’ll go ask your grandmother for money and get you some medicine tomorrow.” She didn’t delay, turning and hurrying out. Shen Yubai reached for her, but didn’t even manage to catch the hem of her clothes. Gloom settled over his face, lending his delicate, almost feminine good looks a different air. If the Shen family had been willing to spend the money, they would have gotten medicine for him long ago. Why wait until his illness had grown so much worse? He gripped the quilt tightly in both hands, his gaze flickering. “Thud!” A muffled sound came from behind him. Shen Yubai turned around and saw a black, rectangular object lying quietly on the cotton batting. Again. Lately, all sorts of strange things had been appearing out of nowhere on his bed. There had been a strange box filled with white rice and topped with fragrant dishes. There had also been a glass cup. Now this black rectangular thing—what was it? He picked it up indifferently and gave it a cursory look. With a click, a beam of dazzling light flashed into his eyes. He instinctively threw the black object toward the wall. Then he saw something astonishing: the black object had vanished! He shuffled backward a few times, but soon ran out of strength. Shen Yubai picked up his pillow and tentatively tossed it toward the spot where the black object had disappeared. The pillow vanished too. At last, a trace of astonishment appeared on his handsome face. He wanted to retreat, but his arms and legs were terribly weak. Shen Yubai gave a self-mocking smile. He was already a dying man. What did he have to fear? With such a strange thing happening, perhaps his dull life had gained a little interest after all. Shen Yubai slowly crawled to the wall, running his hand from the quilt all the way up the wall. There was nothing there. Could it be that only objects disappeared, while people were unaffected? To test his theory, Shen Yubai picked up the glass cup. It had appeared on his bed just today. He set it down on the bed. He tried several different spots before it finally disappeared near the scroll. Shen Yubai’s gaze settled on the blank scroll. His father had bought it for him as a gift on the day he entered school, hoping to encourage him to study hard and, once he had achieved something, write poetry and paint on it. After his father died in office, those so-called relatives seized the large brick house his father had built, and his uncles took all the fields. Then, when Shen Yubai had been bedridden for three years and was at death’s door, they drove him and his mother into this old earthen-brick house. At the memory, Shen Yubai lowered his eyes, sadness welling in his heart. He gently stroked the scroll. “Father, is that you?” The scroll gave no answer. His eyes reddened. “If you’re there, Father, come and see me. I’m not afraid of ghosts. I just miss you.” Still, there was no response. Perhaps his father couldn’t speak. If he wrote a note and the scroll took it in, his father should be able to read it, shouldn’t he? His longing gave him the strength to grit his teeth and get out of bed. Bracing himself against the wall, he made his way to the wooden table beside it. The sickly youth had long since been worn down to skin and bone. Now, even moving forward one step at a time left him panting. His dark hair hung loosely over his chest, covering most of his face and making him look even more frail. This had once been his writing desk, but now it held odds and ends such as earthen teapots and cups. Shen Yubai didn’t mind. He took an inkstone and an ink stick((Traditional Chinese writing tools: a solid ink stick is ground with liquid on an inkstone to produce ink for brush writing.)) from the cloth bag hanging on the wall, poured in some tea, and carefully ground the ink. Once it was ready, he took out the writing brush he hadn’t used in days. He dipped it in the ink and wrote a line on a sheet of yellowed, cheap bamboo paper((A traditional type of Chinese paper made from processed bamboo fibers and used for writing and calligraphy.)). Then, step by step, he made his way back to bed and placed the note in front of the scroll. A faint ripple stirred beside his hand, and the note disappeared. He stared at the scroll expectantly. Would his father write back? … “Clatter!” The phone fell at Su Jin’s feet and flipped over once on the floor. Startled, Su Jin hurriedly picked it up to check. The screen wasn’t cracked! Su Jin let out a breath of relief. “Hmph. At least you know what’s good for you!” Su Jin raised a fist at the scroll. “Thud!” A wooden pillow struck the floor by Su Jin’s feet, and she jumped aside without thinking. “Crash!” This time it was a glass cup smashing on the floor. Water splashed onto her shoes. The cup she’d bought for twenty yuan((The yuan is the basic unit of modern Chinese currency.))! Revenge. This had to be the scroll’s revenge! s about to marry him, just as she had wished. On the night before the wedding, a man claiming to be her husband came to her door. His proof was the jade pendant engraved with “Twelve.” Yet beneath the gentle moonlight, a gloomy, ghostlike man stood outside her door, his face full of resentment. He had someone else in his grasp. Song Zhi sneered at her. “Zhao Jinfeng, I’ve caught Number Nine too. Come, I’ll ask you one last time—which of us has the nicer voice?” — Description from novelcodex.orgFull novel: Madam Has Twelve White-Moonlight Lovers — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠