My Villainess Is Definitely Not a Black Lotus - Chapter 1

The sky had barely begun to lighten when the wooden gate creaked open.

A slender hand gripped the doorframe, the back of the hand showing prominent veins and lingering bruises. A frail figure slipped through the opening, shivering as the biting autumn morning wind pierced her thin clothes.

She glanced at the sky a sliver of pale light peeked through a crack in the eastern clouds. The courtyard was so quiet she could hear the dew dripping. The girl walked to the water vat, scooped out half a gourd of water, and splashed it on her face in the dim light. The water was bone-chilling, but she dared not heat any.

Firewood was precious and had to be conserved. Once it was gone, she’d have to climb the mountain to gather more…

Besides, the sound of a fire might wake the person inside the house.

As the eastern sky began to pale like fish belly, she was already outside, carrying a wooden basin.

Mist shrouded the village paths, her figure appearing and disappearing in the fog. By the time she reached the riverbank, the laughter and chatter of village women could already be heard downstream.

Hey, did you hear? Widow Li at the end of the village is engaged to the scholar!

Oh my! How scandalous! Would the scholar’s family even approve?

The slender figure paused, head bowed, before quickening her pace upstream. Yet her ears remained perked, catching fragments of conversation carried on the breeze.

If we’re talking scandalous, no one beats that family at the village entrance, a shrill voice suddenly piped up. A girl marrying another girl as a wife? Tsk, tsk…

What was her name again? Ji… Ji Xiaoyu? Her family must be desperate to let her go like that. Sigh…

Ji Xiaoyu’s ears burned.

She bit her lower lip, almost running to her usual laundry spot upstream. The overgrown area deterred most from venturing the extra distance, so she had spent three mornings clearing a small, shallow pool. She had even carried a flat stone from the mountain’s base to serve as a washing platform.

The river water was bone-chilling. She rolled up her sleeves, revealing forearms bruised and mottled, and scrubbed the stains from her clothes with fierce determination. The coarse fabric rubbed her palms raw, yet she seemed oblivious, her movements growing increasingly frantic.

She still had work to do.

She had to go up the mountain early to gather wild vegetables. The family’s grain supply was dwindling, and these would be her and the woman’s lunch. If she was late, she feared she would anger the woman again.

By the time she returned home, it was noon.

Ji Xiaoyu pushed open the door and saw the woman still curled up on the kang, asleep. Her heart, which had been pounding with anxiety, finally settled back into place. She carefully set down her back basket and hurried to start cooking…

She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since morning, and her stomach was growling fiercely. Yet she dared not slacken her movements as she lit the fire. If she was late, the woman in the room would likely beat her again.

However, just as the fire in the stove began to blaze, a woman’s piercing scream suddenly echoed from inside the room.

Ji Xiaoyu froze, her knuckles clenching white.

It’s over… I’m still too late.

Fu Jianxu wasn’t angry, just utterly confused.

Rewind three minutes…

The midday sun blazed outside, its harsh light flooding the room and forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut. She frowned and rolled over deeper into the kang, her temples throbbing from lack of sleep. I absolutely can’t stay up editing videos until dawn again, she thought groggily. But I haven’t even filmed this week’s footage yet. I need to get up and work…

She wriggled around in bed for a moment before reaching out to grope for her phone. Hmm? The texture beneath her hand felt wrong. How had her coral fleece sheets become so rough?

Fu Jianxu finally forced her eyes open. The first thing she saw was a dull, gray-yellow earthen wall. Startled, she scooted back. What’s going on? Did pulling an all-nighter give me hallucinations? She twisted around, rubbed her eyes, and opened them again, letting out a sharp cry.

Ah—!

The scream shattered the silence, leading to the scene at the beginning.

A draft seeped through the wall cracks, swirling around the room and making her sneeze twice. But what truly chilled her to the bone was everything she saw

An earthen kang heated platform bed occupied half the room. The wide-open door allowed harsh sunlight to pour onto the kang, disturbing her sleep. Beneath her lay only a worn reed mat, and the patched-up bedding was stacked beside a rickety cabinet and a three-legged table. A nearly extinguished oil lamp stood on the table.

Fu Jianxu’s fingernails dug deep into her palm.

Great heavens! Where has she been taken?!

W-Wife, the meal is almost ready. Ji Xiaoyu hurried over, placing a bowl of hot porridge on the table. She kept her head bowed, afraid of upsetting the woman. Please have some warm soup first. It will make you feel better.

I must still be dreaming… Fu Jianxu lay back down peacefully and closed her eyes. Wake up soon. I need to get back to my phone and my big house.

W-Wife, lunch is ready, Ji Xiaoyu said, having rushed to prepare the meal. The rough bowl clanked against the wooden table with a thud.

The young girl, who had carefully arranged the breakfast earlier, noticed the untouched food on the table. Her voice trembled even more.

Fu Jianxu opened her eyes, her gaze still met by the patchwork of old and new, yellowed thatch roofing. She pinched herself. Hiss… It hurt! Waaah… This wasn’t a hallucination!

I’m doomed! Based on her years of reading novels, she had likely transmigrated. She recalled how just days ago she had confidently declared to her friends, With my skills as a food blogger, even if I transmigrated to ancient times, I’d never run out of delicious meals!

Great heavens! She vowed never to boast again. Good predictions never came true, but bad ones were terrifyingly accurate.

Fu Jianxu’s eyes glazed over. She had lived a life of meek compliance, never committing any wrong. Yet the heavens had cruelly sent her to this dilapidated, impoverished household.

Seeing the person on the bed remain motionless, Ji Xiaoyu didn’t dare urge her, fearing the woman would get angry and hit her again. After a busy morning, her stomach was growling with hunger, but without the woman’s permission, she wouldn’t dare eat first. As usual, she stood by the door like a stone statue.

Grumble, grumble— Her stomach, however, refused to cooperate, stubbornly protesting its hunger. The loud rumbling echoed clearly in the silent room.

Fu Jianxu’s unfocused eyes finally sharpened, and the aroma of food drifted into her nostrils.

Well, it’s come to this. I might as well eat first.

She sat up stiffly, slipped on the straw sandals lying on the floor, and plopped down at the table. But when she picked up her chopsticks, she stared in disbelief coarse rice with wild vegetable soup and pickled cabbage? What kind of garbage is this?!

I’m sorry, Wife-Master, the person standing by the table said, her face turning pale. We used all our remaining silver to buy medicine. I… I could only prepare this.

Fu Jianxu realized she had accidentally spoken her thoughts aloud.

Wait! She jumped up in alarm, her face flushing crimson, and sneezed again in her panic. What did she just call me?

Wife-Master?!

At twenty-four, Ji Xiaoyu had never even held a girl’s hand, let alone had a relationship. Now, after transmigrating, she suddenly had a wife?!

Seeing the woman’s extreme reaction, Ji Xiaoyu instinctively covered her head, shrinking against the wall with her back pressed against it. Her eyelashes trembled slightly, wishing she could disappear into the wall. The woman had been sick for days, and during that time, she hadn’t had the strength to hit her. Now that she was recovered, would the beatings resume? Could Ji Xiaoyu endure it this time?

A resentful glint flashed in her eyes Why didn’t she just die when she was so sick a few days ago?

Fu Jianxu scrutinized the person calling her wife-master—or rather, the girl.

She was small and frail, like a reed swaying in the wind, as if a single gust could knock her over. Barely reaching 1.6 meters tall, she only came up to the original owner’s shoulder. A patched, dark-colored coarse linen robe hung loosely on her, accentuating her gaunt frame.

Could everyone in this era be so short? Fu Jianxu glanced down at her own arms—thankfully, they were sturdy, roughly the same as her build in the modern world. But this person calling her wife-master… how old was she?

The Original Host was such a bastard! Marrying a child? No way! And she was well-fed herself, but starved her wife?

Suddenly, Fu Jianxu’s gaze froze as she noticed the girl’s sallow complexion. The skin clung tightly to her bones, and her wrists were so thin they looked like they could snap with the slightest pressure. Her sleeves were too short, revealing several bruises on her forearms. Combined with the girl’s instinctive reaction of covering her head to avoid blows, Fu Jianxu’s horror intensified.

Hiss—The Original Host wasn’t just sickly, she was a domestic abuser?!

Fu Jianxu stared at the trembling girl with a complex mix of emotions. Afraid of revealing her true nature and being burned as a witch, she simply said, Eat. I’m going for a walk.

She stumbled slightly as she left the room. Her body hadn’t fully recovered from its illness, and the wind sent shivers through her.

Pulling her clothes tighter, she squinted to adjust to the harsh sunlight. Judging by the sun’s position, it was already noon. Several garments hung drying in the courtyard. Fu Jianxu curled her lip in disgust. The Original Host was utterly shameless—tall and burly, yet she slept until noon and made a little girl wait on her.

Now alone, she finally had time to ponder her situation.

Is this a body swap or a book transmigration? She lowered her head to examine her hands—pale, slender, with distinct knuckles. These weren’t her original hands the index finger lacked the scar from her early cooking mishaps.

This must be the Original Host’s body…

I’m screwed. Her face drained of color as Fu Jianxu realized a critical problem she had no memories of the Original Host! She couldn’t help but curse inwardly.

System? she murmured hopefully, recalling the recent trend of book transmigrations, where protagonists were often paired with a System.

She waited, but no mechanical voice echoed in her mind.

Refusing to give up, Fu Jianxu frantically searched her memory for any novels she had read. Having devoured thousands of works on Jiangyue Literature, she couldn’t recall ever encountering a character with her name.

Nothing! Absolutely nothing!

Frustrated and humiliated, she kicked the wall in a fit of anger. The wall remained unscathed, but her foot throbbed painfully. She clutched her foot, howling in pain until the throbbing subsided.

Having finally grasped her predicament, she lifted her head to carefully survey her surroundings a section of the fence leaned crookedly, enclosing a few rows of spindly vegetable seedlings. A speckled hen scratched for food in the dirt outside the fence. Two mud houses stood nearby, a large earthenware jar placed by the door of the left one.

Fu Jianxu’s eyes lit up when she spotted the water vat. She hurried over, pushed aside the wooden lid, and leaned in to peer at her reflection.

Heavenly Grandmother, I can forgive you for transmigrating me into such a poor family, but turning me into an ugly, poor thing… No joke, I’d immediately commit suicide and start over.

Phew Thank goodness.

A relieved smile spread across her face. Though the reflection in the vat was blurry, her features seemed about seventy to eighty percent similar to her original face almond-shaped eyes with double eyelids, fair skin, and endearing dimples that deepened when she smiled.

The weight in her heart lifted. She stepped into the adjacent room, gaining a deeper understanding of her current impoverished circumstances. Like the neighboring hut, the rammed-earth walls were cracked in a spiderweb pattern, haphazardly patched with wet mud and straw.

A small amount of leftover broth remained in the stove, and the food cabinet held only four or five earthenware bowls of varying sizes. Dry firewood and clay jars were stacked in the corner. She lifted the lid of one jar to find only a thin layer of coarse rice at the bottom. The next jar revealed half a jar of pickled vegetables.

With a heart as cold as ashes, she opened the final jar—flour! Her eyes lit up. Though it was only coarse flour, there was nearly half a jar of it.

To the right was a woodshed, smaller than the kitchen, filled with commonly used farming tools and dried straw. The tiny shack beside it didn’t need to be entered for her to know its purpose the pungent odor of an ancient outhouse was unmistakable.

This was the entirety of the Original Host’s home. Fu Jianxu closed her eyes, tilting her head back, afraid to open them—Please let this be a hallucination.

Damn, they’re really poor. Even poorer than my old village back home.

Suddenly, a realization struck her, and her lips twitched No way… the Original Host’s family only has one bed? Does that mean I have to sleep with the Original Host’s wife tonight?!

Her face paled, and she clutched her head, silently screaming No!