“Elder Sister… please, I beg you… spare my child…”
In a dimly lit woodshed, a woman drenched in blood crawled across the floor, her voice raw with desperation.
Her skin was darkened and rough, her appearance so haggard that no one would guess she was barely eighteen.
Opposite her stood a noblewoman in lavish silks, delicately covering her mouth with a handkerchief as she laughed. Beside her, a nursemaid cradled a newborn.
The noblewoman’s laughter faded. She lowered the handkerchief, revealing a face of porcelain beauty—and a smile laced with venom.
“‘Elder Sister’?
“Since when were we ever sisters?
“Sheng Minmin… how stupid can you be?”
Minmin trembled, her body wracked with cold—and hatred.
She loathed Sheng Mingzhu. She loathed the entire world.
But for her child’s sake, she choked back her fury and groveled.
“This lowly one deserves death! Your Highness, I was wrong—
“Please spare my child. I’ll do anything**…”
Mingzhu tilted her head, crimson lips curling.
“Then die.”
A flicker of hope ignited in Minmin’s chest.
“If I die… will you let my child live?”
“Hah—! Oh, Minmin, you really are a fool.”
The nursemaid, Taoniang—the architect of Minmin’s misery—spoke next.
“Your Highness, a bastard born of adultery is a blight upon this world. Best to send it to the afterlife early.”
Taoniang. The woman who had swapped their fates at birth, condemning Minmin to twelve years of slavery while Mingzhu grew up coddled in luxury.
And now, she wanted to murder Minmin’s child.
No. Never.
Minmin’s vision burned red. She clawed forward, but two maidservants yanked her back, their feet pressing her into the dirt. Her nails splintered against the floor as she screamed.
“Mingzhu—! You stole my family! My life! You framed me for adultery and murdered the one person who ever cared for me—
“If you harm my child, I’ll haunt you as a vengeful spirit! I’ll make every breath agony**—!”
Mingzhu smirked, unmoved.
“Nurse, hand me the brat.”
The infant whimpered weakly, like a kitten.
Minmin’s sanity shattered as Taoniang passed the child to Mingzhu.
“NO—! KILL ME INSTEAD! PLEASE—!”
“Tsk. Poor thing. Don’t blame me—blame your wretched mother.” Mingzhu glanced at the nearby brazier, its coals glowing. “Nurse, how should we cleanse this… impurity?”
Taoniang smiled. “Fire purges sin. Let it be reborn pure.”
Minmin vomited blood.
She thrashed, her fingertips tearing to shreds as she fought toward her child—only to be pinned again.
“YOU’LL BURN IN HELL—!”
Mingzhu’s laugh was light, almost musical, as she stepped toward the brazier.
“We’ll see who burns first.”
Time froze.
Minmin watched, helpless, as Mingzhu’s hands opened—
And her child fell into the flames.
The scream that tore from Minmin’s throat no longer sounded human.
That night, villagers near the Sheng estate swore they heard a ghost’s wail.
By the time they rushed to the fire, it was too late.
They found only ashes—a mother and child, reduced to cinders.
Present Day: Fifteenth of the Eleventh Month, Evening.
The Sheng family’s Peony Courtyard was alive with chatter as the household dined.
Eight hot dishes, four cold plates: braised duck, stewed pork, fried quail, steamed fish—all laid out in opulent excess.
Seated at the table, Sheng Minmin (now trapped in her mother Huang Yaning’s body) studied each face:
Her birth father.
Her three elder brothers.
And Sheng Mingzhu—the impostor, now a pampered six-year-old, giggling sweetly.
How lovely.
The heavens had delivered her enemies into her hands.
Should I pluck out Mingzhu’s eyes first? Or sever her tendons and let her rot in a pigpen?
Her toes curled in anticipation.
But no.
Even skinning Mingzhu alive wouldn’t suffice.
Not when her baby’s cries still echoed in her ears.
Not when the stench of charred flesh clung to her soul.
This time… I’ll make sure their suffering lasts.
