The Seductress and Her General - Chapter 1

I was reborn in the body of a young bride who had died sick in bed, shunned by her husband.

When I opened my eyes, I was still clutching a handkerchief stained with old blood. Tears and face powder had dried together on my cheeks.

The maids stood outside, making snide remarks.

“She should’ve died ages ago.”

“Having to look at that sickly face every day is bad luck.”

“Exactly. Our general’s young and vigorous, and he married a paper lantern that’ll crumble at a touch. So what if she’s well born and knows her Lessons for Women and Women’s Virtues by heart? He can’t even touch her. How long is he supposed to put up with that?”

“What, can’t wait for him to make you his concubine?”

They dissolved into laughter and teasing insults.

I blinked. Once I understood what had happened, I burst out cursing.

“You bastards! You fucking played me!”

I was no well-bred young lady. I wasn’t even from this world.

I was a seductress of the Hehuan Sect. Absorbing men’s yang energy was how I increased my cultivation.

Even seductresses have professional ethics. I didn’t take energy from old men or children, from bald monks, or from men who explicitly refused.

No meant no. I understood that perfectly well.

But everyone slips up eventually. One day, curiosity got the better of me, and I absorbed some of the emperor’s dragon energy. Experts from every corner of the land hunted me down, and in the end, a trap got me killed.

Somehow, my solitary soul had wound up possessing this sickly bride.

In my previous life I’d been a force to reckon with. I’d even had my fun with an emperor. In this one, I was a timid little thing bullied by her own maids. Talk about a change in fortunes.

I had no time to dwell on that, though. My body felt empty, especially my stomach. The hunger was unbearable.

I called for someone in a trembling voice. After a long while, one timid little maid finally came in.

She offered me tea and porridge. “Madam, are you thirsty? You haven’t eaten or drunk anything for two days. Please have some.”

I shook my head. That wasn’t what I needed.

“Fetch my husband, and tell everyone outside to keep their distance.”

The maid looked puzzled.

She was young. She didn’t understand.

I explained earnestly, “I may be dying. This illness is very serious. Please fetch my husband. There are things I need to tell him before I go. You shouldn’t hear them, so stay well away.”

Understanding dawned on her face, followed by pity. She nodded and ran out.

As she left, she said, “My lady… I never knew you loved the general so deeply.”

I said nothing. Sprawled on the bed with my hands beneath my head, I reflected that, stripped of all the niceties, what I’d just said was:

Yang energy.

I needed yang energy.

Bring me the man who could give me some. Serve him up already!

While I waited for my “meal” to arrive, I took a quick look through the body’s former owner’s memories.

Miss Zhao. Zhao Wanyu. The sickly second daughter of a respected, high-born family.

She was supposed to marry the son of a marquis in the capital. But old and new factions at court were fighting for power, and His Majesty didn’t want the old ministers forming any more alliances. So he had arranged her marriage to General Gu Rongfeng, a man of common birth who had clawed his way to distinction through heaps of corpses.

Gu Rongfeng was a rough man.

According to rumor, he killed without a second thought and proudly displayed his enemies’ heads dangling beneath his saddle.

According to rumor, he couldn’t read a word, lusted after women, and was an arrogant brute.

The imperial decree had chilled the entire Zhao family to the bone. When Zhao Wanyu, the sacrifice in this political bargain, heard what sort of man Gu Rongfeng was, she came down with a fever that very day and was plagued by nightmares.

In her memories of the wedding, I could make out little more than her bridegroom’s outline.

He was tall and big, with very broad shoulders. Standing before her, he looked like a solid mountain.

She kept her head down and trembled.

“What are you afraid of? Look up,” the man said in a low, rough voice.

His large hand, its palm covered in calluses, caught her chin. Even that light touch hurt terribly.

Zhao Wanyu went stiff as a board, crying and too frightened to resist.

He clicked his tongue impatiently. “I’m not spending my wedding night with a lump of stone that won’t react.”

He turned and left.

Zhao Wanyu breathed a sigh of relief, then tearfully lamented to the maid she had brought from home, “Why is my life so bitter? I was supposed to marry into a marquis’s family… They say a woman must follow the man she marries, whether he’s a rooster or a dog. Now I’ve married a lowborn man, I’ll be lowborn too.”

That struck me as terribly awkward. She had made herself an accessory to someone else.

Then again, women in this world really didn’t live as freely as women in mine.

Cultivation reduced the vast difference in physical strength between men and women to nothing. If men could attain the Dao and become immortals, women could too.

Zhao Wanyu had seen Gu Rongfeng a few more times afterward.

At last, her memories gave me a clear view of his face.

My first impression was: fierce.

Fierce and formidable.

Dark skin. Thick brows, often drawn together. Even with no expression on his face, he looked as though he had just killed someone.

His slightly narrow eyes carried a touch of menace.

A pale scar ran across one cheekbone. When he narrowed his eyes, the movement of his facial muscles made it stand out.

But what most horrified a young lady who had never witnessed bloodshed was the vicious ring of scarring around his neck.

It had been left by an iron chain fitted with barbs, tightened around his throat.

Perhaps the wound had been treated too roughly at the time. The scar was thick and ragged, the flesh knotted into a hideous ring.

One glance had been enough to make Zhao Wanyu look away in fright.

Gu Rongfeng watched her do it without changing expression. He drank some tea, then frowned.

“What the hell is this tea? Why’s it so bitter?”

Zhao Wanyu stared down at her toes, not daring to explain.

Gu Rongfeng set down his cup.

The clunk of porcelain against the table made her tremble.

He asked again, “What kind of tea is this?”

Zhao Wanyu edged away, still refusing to look at him.

She was a nobleman’s daughter, trained from childhood by matrons who insisted on perfect propriety. Even with someone she disliked, she remembered to appear gentle, meek, and obedient. It left Gu Rongfeng nowhere to direct his temper.

On the rare occasions they spoke, she agreed with whatever he said.

Once, he happened to mention that the scenery beyond the frontier was better than all the capital’s countless lanterns. Zhao Wanyu nodded and said yes.

Gu Rongfeng fell silent. “You’ve never been beyond the frontier. How would you know?”

Zhao Wanyu lowered her head uncomfortably, too afraid to argue.

He gave a derisive laugh. They parted unhappily.

To an outsider, they would have looked like a thoroughly miserable couple. One was outwardly obedient, then smashed every teacup her husband used behind his back. The other had a cold face and a cold tongue, incapable of a single gentle word.

I noticed only two things.

First, Gu Rongfeng had never released his yang energy. He was strong, vigorous, and particularly delicious.

Second, he had long thumbs, a straight nose, and a powerful waist.

He had to be very well endowed.