What happens when someone with a mental illness is pushed down the stairs by the person they love, then transmigrates?
Nothing much, except that they could die at any moment.
Shen Yanyan wasn’t afraid of death. In this era, she had met the perfect doll and wanted to begin a whole new emotional hunt.
Unfortunately, it ended before it could begin. The Old Madam died, her backing was gone, and Qiu Lian disappeared. It was as though fate was always working against her. She swore she would find that bastard, grind his bones to dust, peel off his skin, and make him belong to her completely.
When she finally saw Qiu Lian again, Shen Yanyan had lost her memories. Her body’s instincts made her embrace him again. "Who are you? You’re so cute. Will you be with me?" Her words were doubtful, but her hand wouldn’t let go.
Qiu Lian didn’t answer. He only handed her a sword engraved with Shen Yanyan’s name, along with a box containing a human head.
"Why are you hiding here? Do you look down on me because I’m a slave? Have you fallen in love with me? Did you ever love me, Miss?"
"Yanyan, I dream of you every night. You’re all I see. How can you hide here so peacefully?"
"Yaner, I hate you."
"Shen Yanyan, who in the capital is there? Who? Why isn’t it me? I was the one who stayed by your side."
Too many memories tangled together. Two similar faces. A counterfeit became an obstacle in her way, a sharp blade.
Even a match ordained by Heaven can be hard-won. There’s no need to dwell too much on right and wrong.
