She Became The Black Lotus’s Pure, Untouchable Love - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ning Xiangxiang was dead.

At the grand funeral of her young—and frankly, prematurely deceased—wife, she was shoved by someone in the crowd. Her head slammed straight into the sharp corner of a wall lamp.

Crack.

Dead on the spot.

Ning Xiangxiang’s soul floated in midair, staring down at the dark mass of people below.

Some were calling an ambulance. Some were trying to stop the bleeding. Some were attempting CPR. Crying, shouting—total chaos.

The body lying on the ground was her own. Blood streamed from her forehead down her cheeks, glaringly vivid against her pale skin. Her eyes were shut, as if she were merely asleep. Her delicate, straight nose no longer drew breath, her cherry-colored lips pressed tightly together, as though the pain had yet to fade.

Ning Xiangxiang hovered there, stunned into silence.

So that’s it… I’m dead?

Just hit my head once and my soul popped out???

Could it be that I’d posted “kswl kswl” on Weibo too many times, and the heavens took it literally—so I actually got cracked to death?

With great effort, Ning Xiangxiang turned her head to look at the transparent coffin not far away. Inside lay her young—but deservedly short-lived—wife.

Huo Xingyu.

She lay quietly in the coffin, white roses at her side accentuating the cold beauty she’d had in life. Her wavy black hair spilled beside her face, a white dress hugging her full curves. Those phoenix-like eyes that once blended aloofness with seduction were now closed.

Could it be that she didn’t want to walk the road to the afterlife alone… and turned into a vengeful ghost to take me with her?

Ning Xiangxiang’s heart jolted, then she quickly dismissed the thought.

She and Huo Xingyu had no feelings for each other.

Ten years of marriage—for Ning Xiangxiang, it was ten years of confrontation.

For Huo Xingyu, it was probably just an extra mouth at the dinner table. Love or hatred never entered the picture.

From the age of eighteen, Ning Xiangxiang had lived under the titles of “Fourth Miss Huo’s fiancée” and “Fourth Miss Huo’s wife.” She gave up acting, afraid of making mistakes, afraid of disgracing the Huo family. She spoke carefully, behaved rigidly, and lived as if walking on thin ice.

Huo Xingyu never cared to speak much with her. The way she looked at Ning Xiangxiang was no different from how she looked at the household cook. She was nothing more than a profit-generating machine.

If Ning Xiangxiang hadn’t seen her own beautiful, delicate face in the mirror every day, she might have suspected she was the cook’s long-lost twin sister.

Huo Xingyu was like a still lake. The first time Ning Xiangxiang ever saw her emotions fluctuate—saw her actually care—was when the company’s stock price fell.

It was certain: in Huo Xingyu’s life, the only thing that mattered was her career.

Ning Xiangxiang thought she would endure this for a lifetime.

But then Huo Xingyu suddenly died, leaving her five percent of the company’s shares. After the mourning period, her life would be free at last—wide open. A rich widow could live however she pleased.

She could chase idols. She could keep pretty boys. She could spend money without restraint.

At the thought, Ning Xiangxiang nearly laughed out loud during the three-minute moment of silence, pinching her thigh hard to suppress it.

Before marrying Huo Xingyu, Ning Xiangxiang had briefly worked in the entertainment industry.

She’d acted in a few youth romance films. Though constantly criticized for poor acting, she’d once gone viral thanks to her pure, white-lotus looks.

At Huo Xingyu’s funeral, she gave the performance of her lifetime, crying until her heart seemed to shatter.

It wasn’t entirely an act. She cried for the ten years of her youth—and for the rich, glamorous widowhood that was about to begin.

But before she could even throw a three-day, three-night celebration party, she smashed her head into the wall and followed Huo Xingyu straight into death.

Who the hell pushed me?

Anger rose sharply in Ning Xiangxiang’s chest.

Maybe it was the head injury, or maybe the crowd was too chaotic—she couldn’t remember anything at all. A ghost without even a target for revenge.

How unjust…

A furious ghost was utterly useless. She couldn’t even kick Huo Xingyu’s coffin to vent her anger.

Outside the mourning hall, heavy clouds pressed down. The horizon was stained a deep crimson. Early autumn winds cut sharply, the air thick with dampness.

Ning Xiangxiang watched as they loaded her body into the ambulance.

Someone in the crowd suddenly wailed, “Xiangxiang didn’t want Fourth Miss Huo to walk alone—she died for love!”

As soon as the words fell, murmurs of gossip spread like wildfire. A few girls poisoned by melodramatic dramas even started sobbing.

Ning Xiangxiang could already imagine tomorrow’s entertainment headlines. The thought of walls filled with “Mrs. Huo the Fourth Dies for Love” nearly made her cry for real.

The title “Fourth Mrs. Huo” was like a tightening curse.

She had lived her short life cautiously, trying to be proper, trying to be worthy of Huo Xingyu—only to find that even in death, she was still bound tightly to her.

If only she could do it over again. She’d rather jump into the Huangpu River than marry Huo Xingyu.

To hell with being Fourth Mrs. Huo.

…

Huo Xingyu came back to life.

Three days ago, she opened her eyes and realized she’d returned to ten years earlier.

Over those three days, what she thought about most wasn’t why she’d died suddenly, nor the possibility of conspiracy.

While looking at company documents, the name that surfaced in her mind was Ning Xiangxiang.

In three days, she signed five documents incorrectly. On one signature line, she even wrote “Ning Xiangxiang” instead of her own name.

Her secretary looked at her strangely.

She had never imagined that Ning Xiangxiang would die for her.

But she had seen it with her own eyes.

Floating above the mourning hall, Huo Xingyu watched Ning Xiangxiang collapse beside the coffin, crying in agony—and froze.

Her grief stood in stark contrast to everyone else’s cold indifference.

Huo Xingyu had never known Ning Xiangxiang would be this heartbroken.

During the moment of silence, Ning Xiangxiang’s small body trembled as she sobbed, her slender hands digging into her thighs to keep herself from crying aloud.

Huo Xingyu had seen her act in those terrible films. This kind of gut-wrenching pain—she was certain Ning Xiangxiang could never fake it.

Her almond eyes brimmed with tears, the tip of her nose flushed red. That fragile expression stirred a feeling in Huo Xingyu she’d never known before.

She suddenly felt… heartache.

Then Ning Xiangxiang slammed her head into the wall and died for her.

Even someone as indifferent to love as Huo Xingyu was shaken.

She, Huo Xingyu, was dead—and Ning Xiangxiang refused to live on alone?

She’d never known Ning Xiangxiang loved her so deeply.

This woman loved her, Huo Xingyu thought with certainty—even if she herself did not love Ning Xiangxiang.

But in this life, if she were to marry her again, then whatever Ning Xiangxiang wanted—so long as Huo Xingyu had it—she could take it all.

They’d had no children in their previous life. If they adopted a daughter… what should her name be?

Staring at the densely packed clauses on the document in front of her, Huo Xingyu’s thin lips moved as she murmured softly:

“Ning Xiangxiang…”

…

Ning Xiangxiang woke to a burst of noise outside.

Someone was crying hysterically. Others were shouting curses and mockery. The sounds tangled together, indistinct.

Her head felt heavy, her body weighed down as if filled with lead.

She forced her eyes open and saw several doctors in white coats leaving in a hurry.

A hospital?

Had she been dragged back from the gates of hell?

Warm paintings hung on the wall. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She looked down and saw herself in a hospital gown, one leg encased in plaster and hoisted high.

Her leg?

Wasn’t she supposed to have hit her head? Why was her leg broken?

Frowning, she recalled the last time she’d broken her leg—it was ten years ago, during filming, when a wire stunt went wrong. After she recovered, she’d been sent straight into the Huo household.

“Ning Xiangxiang!”

The shout startled her. She looked up and saw Ning Huai’ai striding in, his face dark.

Her father.

He had died of cancer less than five years after she married into the Huo family. How could he be standing here, alive?

Could it be that both of them were dead, reunited in the afterlife?

She pressed her lips together, not knowing what to say. Surely she couldn’t greet him with, “Dad, what a coincidence—I’m dead too.”

Besides, seeing him brought her little joy.

Her parents had divorced when she was young. She’d lived with her mother, her memories of her father filled with endless arguments and tears.

Only when her mother was critically injured in a car accident did Ning Huai’ai take her back to the Ning family.

He didn’t care about her. Her stepmother cared even less.

She’d thought death would end everything. Who knew heaven still ran on family systems? The thought almost made her laugh.

She lowered her head and called softly, “Dad.”

“So you still know I’m your father,” Ning Huai’ai snorted coldly. “Your Aunt Lin and I are cultured people. I don’t know who taught you to behave like this.”

Ning Xiangxiang raised her eyes and looked at him.

She didn’t know what he was sneering about this time, but she was used to the subtext.

Even in death, nothing had changed—he still blamed others for all his misfortunes.

She suddenly found it funny.

Her mother had lain in bed for nearly ten years after the accident. Under Ning Huai’ai and her stepmother’s ‘care,’ Ning Xiangxiang had lived those ten years in fear.

At first, she was afraid the medical bills would be cut off, so she endured everything in silence.

Later, when she became famous, he said it was her chance to repay the Ning family. He forced her to sign contracts requiring all her earnings—endorsements, ads, film pay—to be handed over.

Any sign of resistance, and he threatened to cut medical funds or demand breach-of-contract penalties.

She took every job, no matter how trashy. As long as it paid, she ran herself ragged—just to keep the medical bills going.

Only after Ning Huai’ai died did she learn the truth: all those claims about top doctors and the best medicine were lies.

Now that everyone was dead, there was no one left to threaten anyone.

Ning Xiangxiang sneered. “What manners? You mean forcing your own daughter to work herself to death so your stepdaughter can spend the money?”

“Bullshit!” Ning Huai’ai slammed the table, pointing at her. “We’re family! Why should money be divided? You’re the older sister—you should take care of your sister and your stepmother! How did I end up with such an unfilial daughter?”

Watching him deny everything so brazenly, Ning Xiangxiang felt nothing but ridicule.

“Family?” she shot back. “Then why did you threaten me with my mother’s medical bills? Why did you threaten me with contract penalties?”

Ning Huai’ai flushed with anger, unable to refute her.

He shoved the chair aside and rushed toward her, raising his hand to slap her—

But when he met her eyes—filled with hatred and cold indifference—she raised her brow and sneered.

“What? You still want to hit me?”

His chest heaved violently. He’d come today with a purpose. If he really hit her, how could he bring it up?

He forced himself to calm down.

“Xiangxiang, I know you have complaints about me. But we can talk things through. I’ll continue paying your mother’s medical bills.”

Medical bills?

Her mother had died two years ago. What bills?

Seeing her confusion, Ning Huai’ai continued, thinking she’d given in.

“You know about Ruomeng falling down the stairs. The blood clot in her brain hasn’t dispersed, and no one knows if she’ll wake up. I’ve heard the Huo family is reselecting…”

Ning Xiangxiang froze.

She had heard these exact words once before—ten years ago.

The Huo family, a top-tier elite household, would never let a marriage alliance slip away. When her sister fell down the stairs, Ning Xiangxiang had been pushed in as a replacement.

Everything was repeating itself.

What was going on?

Wasn’t she dead?

Could it be… she had returned to the past?

Her heart pounded wildly. Afraid of revealing anything, she lowered her head and followed his words.

“Then… what do you want me to do?”

“I’ll find you an opportunity to get close to Miss Huo.”

The moment the words left his mouth, a thousand waves crashed through her heart.

She was back in that year.

Ning Xiangxiang’s hands trembled as she clenched them tightly, wrinkling the sleeves of her shirt.

To hell with Fourth Mrs. Huo.