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Lin Ruo’an transmigrated into the body of a poor, cross-dressing scholar. Her only goal? To keep her head down, stay alive, and eventually, take the imperial examinations to become the top scholar.
Everything was going according to plan until the day she found Xu Wangyou shivering in a rainy alleyway. The girl was delicate, a master in the kitchen, and possessed a charm that was… well, a little off.
For instance:
“Ruo’an, I’ve prepped the fish for tonight.”
“Hmm… the slices are so thin they’re translucent, and you’ve deboned the entire thing perfectly. Who taught you these knife skills?”
Xu Wangyou lowered her head, twisting her apron: “Oh, just… casual practice.”
(Lin Ruo’an’s internal monologue: That level of precision isn’t gained from cutting fish, that’s a technique honed from taking down a hundred men.)
Or consider the time a thief climbed the wall at night. The next morning, Xu Wangyou served breakfast:
“There were some stray cats fighting last night. I threw a rock at them, and I think I accidentally knocked them unconscious.”
“I see… and the three men tied up at the gate in professional binding knots? Are they also ‘stray cats’?”
Xu Wangyou blinked innocently: “Did they just pop out of thin air?”
(Lin Ruo’an, staring at the complex, professional-grade restraints on the ground, falls into deep contemplation.)
Then, during an ambush by masked assassins, the girl who usually asks if the scallions are chopped finely enough suddenly snapped a killer’s neck with her bare hands, pinning the leader to the ground. She then turned back, her face splattered with blood but wearing an innocent smile:
“Ruo’an… for our late-night snack, do you want wontons or noodles?”
Lin Ruo’an: “Either is fine?”
#My little wife seems like she’s not entirely ordinary#
#The way she looks at me is getting increasingly ambiguous#
#But god, the scallion oil noodles she makes are actually delicious#
It was only later that Lin Ruo’an discovered the truth:
Xu Wangyou, formerly known as Jiang Yue’er, was “Blade Seven,” a top-tier assassin from a sinister organization. Her “amnesia” wasn’t from a head injury—it was the result of the poison she was fed when she defected.
And her mother, the loud, quarrelsome Xu Fenggu, who spent her days bickering with neighbors?
“You’ve never heard of the ‘Scarlet Lotus Fairy’? The one who took on the Twelve Mountain Forts all by herself?”
“Mom, you had a past like that?!”
“Enough talk! Grab your weapons, someone is going after my daughter!”
Thus, the family dynamic shifted:
While other scholars were studying hard, Lin Ruo’an was writing essays by day and helping her wife fend off assassins by night, all while finding time to polish her mother’s soft-edged sword.
While others were parading through the streets in glory, Lin Ruo’an, having passed the exams with top honors, was navigating imperial court intrigue while simultaneously pacifying her jealous, assassin-wife: “I swear it was just a colleague’s sister! I didn’t even drink the tea she offered!”
Xu Wangyou (sharpening a knife): “Oh. And yet you ate three of the pastries she brought.”
Lin Ruo’an: “That was because I was hungry!”
After the Secret is out.
One day, surrounded by enemies, the three of them stood their ground.
Xu Wangyou slowly drew her blade, and Xu Fenggu unsheathed her sword.
The enemy leader sneered: “You think you can win with just a group of women and the elderly?”
Fifteen minutes later, the leader was trembling beneath Xu Wangyou’s boot.
Xu Wangyou tilted her head: “Ruo’an, should we interrogate him or just bury him?”
Xu Fenggu wiped her blade: “Bury him. He’ll make good fertilizer for the sweet-scented osmanthus tree.”
Lin Ruo’an rubbed her temples: “Let’s interrogate him first. Also, Mom, that is the only osmanthus tree we have.”
(She whispered to her wife) “Wangyou, can we still have osmanthus cake tonight?”
Xu Wangyou sheathed her blade, her expression instantly softening: “We can. I’ll add double the sugar.”
