The cold sting on the back of his head made Lin Fu open his eyes suddenly, and the carved wooden beams shattered into swaying spots of light in his sight.
"Are you awake? Do you still know it hurts?" A sharp female voice came over with a cold air, "Do you really think you are a Wenquxing who descended to earth? It's just a Sangmen star that our Su family bought with money!"
Lin Fu struggled to sit up, but the back of his hand was severely crushed by a cloth shoe embroidered with lotus flowers. Looking up, the woman in green trousers was holding her hands on her hips, her triangular eyes poking out two bloodstains on his face.
Unfamiliar memories flooded into my mind like a bursting flood: In the third year of Yong'an in the Wei Dynasty, he was the husband of Su Qingyue, the third daughter of the Su family. Yesterday, he was beaten unconscious by a servant with a sap in the woodshed because he contradicted the second house owner Su Mingzhe. And the original owner of this body was actually an idiot who couldn't even read the Three-Character Sutra.
"Mrs. Wang, let go." A cold voice floated from the door. Lin Fu followed the sound and saw a woman in plain clothes standing behind the green gauze tent. Her eyebrows are as dark as distant mountains, her eyes are like the waves of autumn water, and her jingchai cloth skirt cannot conceal her cold elegance - it is his cheap wife, Su Qingyue.
