“Someone wants to kill me—run, run!”
Wen Ning jolted awake. Above her fluttered a pale green gauze canopy, carved bed beams with intricate patterns, and walls painted a spotless white. She lay there for a long while before recovering from the desperate cry that had echoed in her dream. That was the final scream of this body’s original owner before death.
Yes—the name was the same, but this Wen Ning was not that Wen Ning. She had realized it last night when she woke in a daze. Shocked, disbelieving, she had clung to the hope that if she slept again, everything would return to normal.
Just as she lay there, despair written across her face, a clear, worried voice called: “Madam, it’s time to take your medicine.”
The word *madam* struck her like a jolt of energy.
Wen Ning drew a sharp breath and finally stopped resisting, sorting through the strange memories of a pitiful life that had suddenly appeared in her mind. She had transmigrated—right after a car accident that should have killed her. And of all things, she had become a concubine, nearly the lowest rung in ancient society.
Truth be told, the original owner’s status wasn’t entirely low. She was a daughter of the Wen family, one of Jin’s three great clans. But she was only a concubine’s child, not a legitimate heiress.
Even so, as a Wen daughter, she should have married into a respectable family as a proper wife. Instead, two years ago, Chen Jinfeng, the mighty Protector of Anxi, rose in rebellion under the banner of “cleansing the court,” stormed the capital, beheaded the emperor, and enthroned a six‑year‑old prince.
The great clans, seeing the tide turn, scrambled to curry favor, sending their carefully chosen daughters into Chen Jinfeng’s household. The original Wen Ning was one of them. For two years, she lived quietly in the Protector’s mansion—until days ago, when disaster struck.
It began with her husband.
After the fall of the old dynasty, the realm split into three powers: Jin, Wei, and An. Jin had been the weakest, but Chen Jinfeng seized control before the royal family destroyed it completely. He barely paused to enjoy his power before marching off to war against invading neighbors and restless tribes. In two years, his campaigns transformed Jin into the strongest of the three states. Even border tribes trembled at his name. But the price of glory was absence. He had scarcely returned home, leaving his mansion full of lonely beauties.
Loneliness breeds mischief.
Half a month ago, the original Wen Ning accidentally witnessed Concubine Cheng in a compromising embrace with a man. Terrified, she fled. She feigned illness and hid in her room for weeks. Then, thinking herself safe, she ventured out for a walk by the lake—only to be shoved into the water. Unable to swim, she drowned. And Wen Ning inherited her body.
Digesting these memories, Wen Ning wanted to groan aloud. The original had left behind not just a mess, but a death trap.
The culprit could only be Concubine Cheng. One failed attempt meant another would surely follow.
Her maid Chunxi, seeing her mistress’s strange expression, tried again: “Madam, please take your medicine.” She worried—since the fall into the lake, her mistress seemed duller than before. How could she possibly fight against the mansion’s wolfish women?
Wen Ning looked at the black bowl of medicine. In such circumstances, she dared not drink anything of uncertain origin.
The body was weak, yes, but Wen Ning was a medical school graduate, trained since childhood by her physician grandfather. She could care for herself. She was about to order Chunxi to pour it away when footsteps sounded outside. A knock followed, and a crisp voice called: “Madam Wen, my mistress and Concubine Cheng have come to visit you.”
Wen Ning’s heart skipped. So soon?
Chunxi paled. She had been present when her mistress caught Concubine Cheng’s affair, and she suspected the truth. Now she looked like a frightened bird.
Wen Ning steadied herself. “Chunxi, open the door.”
The voice belonged to Shu Qin, maid of Concubine Luo.
Concubine Luo was the most high‑born of the Protector’s consorts, daughter of the Luo clan, another of Jin’s great families. By rights, Wen Ning’s status should have matched hers. But Concubine Luo’s mother remained favored, while Wen Ning’s had long fallen from grace. Concubine Luo was bold and domineering; Wen Ning was meek and quiet. Naturally, people saw Wen Ning as beneath her.
With no official mistress in the mansion, Concubine Luo acted as one, managing the household.
Was this visit with Concubine Cheng a coincidence—or another trap?
Chunxi, surprised by her mistress’s calm, obeyed and opened the door.
A group approached. Wen Ning braced herself, rising weakly from bed, her face pale. “I thank my sisters for visiting. Forgive me for not greeting you in person.” She thought wryly: the original’s melodramatic lines were like something from a soap opera.
Before she could stand, a wave of perfume enveloped her. Soft hands pressed her back down, and a sweet voice cooed: “Oh, dear sister, you only just fell into the water. You’re still fragile. Sit, sit—between sisters, there’s no need for such formality.”
Wen Ning looked up—and met a pair of seductive eyes, curved but utterly devoid of warmth. The effect was chilling, like glancing up in a restroom to find a blank face staring down. She thought grimly: those eyes could make a hundred children cry with ease.