Chapter 1: I Actually Transmigrated?!

The first second Jiang Luyi regained consciousness, she was shoved hard into the silk brocade pillows.

"Mmph—"

Her lips were sealed.

The man kissed her with no finesse, his burning tongue forcing past her teeth, the stench of wine flooding in.

Jiang Luyi's brain short-circuited.

I actually transmigrated?!

Right before she died, she'd blown her entire life savings on a livestream auction for the "100% Guaranteed Transmigration: Pampered Wife Experience" deluxe package.

When making her wish, she'd screamed her lungs out.

"I want to transmigrate as the female lead of The General's Pampered Darling and get it on with the male lead! Every single night!"

She hadn't expected to die one second and drop straight into the plot the next.

"Help... help me..."

The man mumbled against her skin, scorching breath fanning across her neck, so hot it made her shiver.

Help?

The original novel's plot flashed through her mind.

The male and female leads' defining love scene—Shen Zhaoye, set up by enemies and dosed with a potent aphrodisiac called "Lover's Snare," stumbles into a side hall after a palace banquet and ends up spending the night with the female lead by sheer accident.

Thus begins their chase-and-flee, push-and-pull love story.

Looking at the situation before her—the wine on his breath, the medicinal scent, his burning skin, his desperate hands...

It matched. Everything matched!

Jiang Luyi's heart soared.

This service is legit! First second in the novel and I'm dropped right at a key plot point!

Five stars! I'd write that review on my knees!

"It's so hot..."

The man above her grew more frantic. His lips moved from her mouth to her chin, then trailed down her neck, and his hands started slipping beneath her collar.

Jiang Luyi took a deep breath, trying to recall how the female lead was supposed to react right now.

Shy? Scared?

Half-willing, half-resisting?

No.

Jiang Luyi decided to add her own interpretation.

The ending was sweet pampering anyway. Being a little proactive might speed up the plot toward the main storyline.

So she gritted her teeth and threw her weight.

While the man was lost in a haze, she flipped him onto his back—guest becoming host.

In the thin moonlight filtering through the window, she finally made out his face.

Her breath caught.

Sharp brows like a drawn sword. A high-bridged nose. Thin lips flushed dark with desire, parted as he panted.

His eyes were half-closed, blazing red—like a fire that could devour a person alive.

Absolutely gorgeous.

His black sleeping robe hung loose, collar gaping open, revealing taut chest muscles below his collarbone, and below that...

Jiang Luyi swallowed hard.

This body! The novel's "eight-pack abs" was a serious understatement. This was a washboard carved with precision—every ridge defined, those deep-cut V-lines trailing down like arrow slits.

The little Jiang Luyi in her head was going wild with applause, but on the outside, she forced on the timid, demure look of the original female lead.

She reached out cool fingers to brush his burning temple, channeling every line she'd read in countless novels.

Leaning to his ear, her breath warm and sweet:

"Don't be afraid, little general..."

She felt the body beneath her go rigid.

Jiang Luyi got bolder, the lines flowing more smoothly. "I'll help you with the poison..."

As she spoke, her fingertips traced his chiseled abs, following the dip of his V-line, sliding lower and lower.

The feel of him made her want to squeal.

Finally, her fingers hooked the waistband of his loose trousers.

Just as she was about to pull—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Knocking. Sharp and sudden. Followed by a voice deliberately kept low.

"Your Highness, are you well? I heard sounds from inside. Is Your Highness unwell?"

Your Highness?

What Your Highness?

Jiang Luyi's blood froze.

The male lead was the heir of Marquis Yong'an—a young man who'd earned his general's rank through military merit. He was no prince.

In the original novel, there was only one prince.

The late emperor's youngest uncle. Young in years but wielding immense power. The man who would later murder his own nephew to seize the throne, slaughter thirty-seven members of the royal family, and commit atrocities so horrific they defied description.

The man who, in the novel's final act, was captured by Shen Zhaoye and mutilated into a living husk.

The psychotic villain. Prince Zhao—Yan Chen.

Jiang Luyi froze, fingers still hooked in his waistband, her whole body turning to ice.

"You..." She looked down at the man beneath her, her voice cracking. "You're not Shen Zhaoye?"

The man didn't answer.

He just flipped her over. The world spun, and his heavy body pinned her down again.

A kiss fiercer than before—not entirely hazy anymore, but edged with something dangerous.

"Wasn't it you who wanted to help me with the poison?"

"Why'd you stop?"

His hand shoved roughly past her wide sleeve, sliding along the smooth inside of her arm, reaching inward.

"Mmph—wait—!"

Jiang Luyi was terrified out of her wits.

What's going on?

She came for the male lead! How did she end up in the villain's bed??

Transmigration services can mess up orders too?

While her mind raced, the man's hand had already found its way to her chest, gripping the soft flesh through the last thin layer of her undergarment.

"Ah—!"

Jiang Luyi jolted.

In her panic, her hand closed around a vase on the headboard. She swung it hard at the back of his skull.

Crash!

The vase shattered.

The man's movements stopped dead. Then his body went limp, all his weight collapsing onto her.

Jiang Luyi shoved him off, scrambled off the bed, and snatched up the robe scattered on the floor, wrapping it around herself.

Outside, the guard had clearly heard the commotion. "Your Highness? Your Highness! Are you alright? I'm coming in!"

The sound of the door hinge turning followed.

Jiang Luyi didn't bother looking for shoes. Barefoot, she lunged for the window on the far side of the room and threw herself out.

Behind her, the door was shoved open.

"Your Highness!"

The guard, Wei Feng, burst in. In the light spilling from the corridor, he saw his master collapsed beside the disheveled bed, the back of his head stained a vivid red.

His heart lurched. He rushed forward.

"What happened?"

Yan Chen let Wei Feng pull him upright. His drug-addled mind cleared slightly under the sharp sting of pain.

Fragmented memories flooded back.

A soft, burning body. Clumsy but daring touches. That feigned, coy whisper of "Don't be afraid, little general"...

And that final, merciless blow.

He raised a hand to the wound. His fingers came away slick and wet. He held them before his eyes—red, so much red.

"Hss..."

The desire hadn't fully left his eyes, but now it was mixed with something lethal.

"Go. Bring her back."

Wei Feng looked at his master's deathly pale face, the wound still oozing, and hesitated.

"But Your Highness, your injury..."