In the fourth summer of the Celestial Ascendancy era of the Daqi Dynasty.
The bustling streets of the capital were lined with shops and taverns, teeming with life.
The scorching heat of the day had only begun to wane as the sun’s lingering glow faded from the sky.
At a street corner stood a building adorned with a gilded plaque bearing the words “Spring Fragrance Pavilion.”
Night had just fallen, yet carriages and sedan chairs already crowded the entrance, their occupants all figures of wealth and nobility.
This was the largest, liveliest, and most expensive establishment in the capital of Daqi—part tavern, part brothel.
While the front courtyard buzzed with revelry, singing, and dancing, the rear courtyard remained relatively quiet in the early evening.
But in a room tucked away in a corner of the second-floor loft of the rear courtyard…
A woman dressed in gaudy attire, her eyes brimming with sly mischief—clearly the brothel’s madam—accepted a stack of silver notes from a lecherous young master beside her. Tucking the money into her sleeve, she led him to an inner chamber where a delicate, somewhat dazed-looking young girl lay on a bed.
Noting the young master’s greedy, awestruck gaze at the girl’s beauty, the madam smirked and said, “Master Sun, this girl arrived at our Spring Fragrance Pavilion just today—untouched. You’re a regular here, so I’ve made an exception. For anyone else, I wouldn’t have brought her out. She’s a bit feisty, but I’ve given her something to calm her. Enjoy yourself, young master.”
With that, she ushered the maids and servants out, closing the door behind them.
“Heh heh, little beauty, let me take good care of you,” the young master sneered, his eyes glinting with lust as he reached for the girl.
Meanwhile, in another time and space…
Mu Wanqing, clad in form-fitting black attire, stood proudly at the bow of a ship, her coldly enchanting gaze sweeping over the armed men surrounding her.
A faint dimple appeared as she smirked and murmured, “You think you can take something from me?”
Before the men could react, her slender fingers flicked, and silver needles flashed through the air, striking one man’s throat—a fatal hit.
With a choked gasp, the man collapsed lifelessly. The others, panicked, raised their guns and fired.
“Hmph,” Mu Wanqing’s smile deepened as she dodged the bullets with feline grace, her fingers releasing more silver needles.
Screams and groans filled the air as the men fell one by one.
“Pathetic,” she muttered disdainfully, stepping over their bodies. She grabbed a small motorboat nearby and pushed it into the water.
Just then, a familiar, warm voice called out from behind her—”Qing’er.”
Mu Wanqing stiffened, a silver needle already between her fingers. She turned to see a man with a gentle, scholarly face, his arms outstretched toward her.
Though wary, she couldn’t help but blush and step forward.
Then—*BANG!*
A sharp pain exploded in her chest. Stunned, she looked down at the bloody hole, then up at the man, whose lips curled into a triumphant smirk as he lowered the smoking gun in his hand.
“Why?” she gasped, trembling, her body drenched in cold sweat.
“No reason. Killing you makes me the rightful heir of the Tang Sect,” he replied coolly, twirling the gun as he advanced.
“Dream on. I’d rather die than let you win,” she spat, her heart breaking. This man—once her supporter, the reason she had stolen the sect’s heirloom—had betrayed her.
The face she once adored now seemed monstrous. As he closed in, she staggered, nearly fainting from pain. But with a cold laugh, she hurled a small bomb behind her as she fell backward into the river.
The boat erupted in a fiery explosion as Mu Wanqing plunged into the icy water. The cold pierced her bones, and her consciousness faded…
When she awoke, she was burning—her body unbearably hot, something heavy pressing down on her, making it hard to breathe.
Struggling, she forced her eyes open.
A man loomed over her—his hair tied up in an ancient style, his face leering with lust.
Realizing his hands were groping her, she snarled, “You—!” With a burst of strength, she shoved him away and tried to sit up.
But her body was weak, her limbs like lead. Worse, she was clad in a sheer, translucent gown, and the room around her was filled with antique furniture.
She had *time-traveled*.
“Awake, little beauty? Perfect. I was getting bored with a lifeless doll,” the man sneered, advancing again.
“Go to hell!” Mu Wanqing grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him, then bolted for the door while he dodged.
But her legs gave way after a few steps. Her body burned, her mind clouded with feverish desire.
She knew something was very wrong.
The man lunged again. Without hesitation, she snatched a water jug from a nearby table and smashed it against his head.
“Ah—!” He staggered back, blood streaming from his forehead. Seizing the chance, she stumbled into the hallway.
The corridor was a riot of colors, filled with laughter, music, and the sounds of passion. The heat inside her flared, but she refused to surrender her innocence so cheaply.
Biting her tongue to stay focused, she dragged herself forward, her legs barely obeying.
As she staggered downstairs, flushed and panting, a woman’s frantic shouts followed her. But she ignored them, making for the lantern-lit pond below.
The water’s coolness called to her. Without a second thought, she dove in headfirst.
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