In the Temple of the Prison God, Wang Xifeng breathed her last.
For ten years, she had wielded the knife for the Jia family. The blood she spilled belonged to others, but she bore every bit of the blame alone.
On the day the family was seized, Lady Wang pushed her forward in front of the imperial inspector. “All of this was managed by Feng. I knew nothing about it.”
She was abandoned in a ruined temple, lice crawling through her hair, without even a coffin.
When she opened her eyes again, she had returned to the day she was asked to help manage the Ningguo Mansion.
Qin Keqing had just died. Jia Zhen had come to ask for her help. The whole household was watching, waiting to see what Madam Feng could do.
In her previous life, she had been so delighted that she stayed awake all night.
In this life, she was cold all over.
She knew how this machine worked. She knew whose pockets every tael of silver ended up in, who would turn on them and when, and how Qiaojie would eventually be sold into a living hell by her own maternal uncle.
She would not clear her name, make a comeback, or become some great heroine.
She would do only one thing:
Before this murderous machine collapsed completely, she would get herself and Qiaojie out.
As for the ghosts in this mansion, the blades in every courtyard, and the demons and monsters who had gnawed her down to the bone in her previous life:
If she could not avoid them, then she would walk right in.
But this time, she would not be the cog in the machine.
She would be the one crouched outside it, counting every thread and figuring out which one to pull to bring someone to their death.
Theme: Told from the perspective of Second Mistress Lian, who was consumed by the Temple of the Prison God, this story revisits the Rongguo Mansion as a murderous machine of power. It neither whitewashes nor demonizes its characters. It follows an agent transformed by the system who, knowing she is destined to die, tries to carve out a path to survival for herself and her daughter while surrounded by enemies.
