I was once the powerful Nine-Thousand-Year-Old Eunuch, but when I opened my eyes, I had become a “cross-dressing man” on a modern livestream. The comments went wild: “Sis, kill me!” “That waist, that face, absolutely perfect!”
I sneered and struck a delicate pose. Back when I, the Chief Eunuch, was sentencing people to the Red Hundred Strokes, your ancestors were still running around in split-crotch pants.
Then a top agent barged into the dressing room and yanked off my wig. “You’re a man?”
I pressed a silver needle to his throat. “You’re still too green to become my ‘food companion.’”
His eyes lit up. “Want to wear women’s clothes out in the open? I’ll make you a top-tier star.”
At the new drama’s press conference, a top-tier star suddenly gripped my chin. “Have we met somewhere before?”
A dagger slipped from my sleeve and came to rest against his waist. I smiled sweetly. “Three hundred years ago, in the Eastern Depot prison, on the Chief Eunuch’s bed.”
