The Lady Who Shows No Mercy After the Night

Written only for myself and for every girl who is true to herself.

[Flirtatious, aloof, sharp-tongued, high-level martial arts heroine X beautiful, calculating, green-tea schemer, lovesick minister]

Author: A grievance-fueled creation born of being fed up with romance heroines who blush and get shy at the slightest emotional or physical contact.

Blurb:

The young lady is eighteen thousand years old. Eighteen thousand, that is.

She has had enough of life, but she can't die.

She wants nothing except to avoid senile dementia, but every beauty around her has at least eight hundred schemes up her sleeve.

She's getting old, and her memory isn't what it used to be.

“I asked you to stay, miss, but not just so you could listen to me play the zither.” The elegant musician in blue snuffed out the candle, then gazed up at her with a bright smile.

The young lady: “Huh?!”

“Do you really think I'm some doctor who treats the world out of compassion?” The renowned physician, whose eyes had been dazzled by the riches of this glittering world, glared at her with a pair of doe eyes.

The young lady: “What?!”

“I traded my flesh and blood to leave my soul behind, foolishly hoping your heart would be like mine...” The beautiful, dignified Imperial Preceptor's phoenix eyes reddened slightly as her long fingers hooked around the young lady's belt.

The young lady: “Huh?!”

“You can have it, but I have one condition: you and I get married.” Beneath the long table, Gu Lang, the young master of Yancheng, took her hand in front of all the civil and military officials.

The young lady: “That was so sudden?!”

The young lady pulled herself out of the pile of beauties.

Auntie Qiao tapped the long table with her pipe. A few traces of schadenfreude showed on her sultry face through the billowing smoke. “You had it too good and choked, didn't you?”

The young lady climbed onto the wooden plank and pulled the white cloth over her eyes. “Close the door. I'm dying right now.”