The antique girlfriend of a chaebol heir

The plum rains in Jiangnan are always lingering.

On the day Shen Ci was born, the century-old peony in the backyard of the Shen family home bloomed for the first time ever. Holding his infant daughter, Shen's father looked at the trembling purple blossom and said with a smile, "My Youyou is the reincarnation of the Flower Goddess."

She is the apple of the eye of the Shen family.

Her mother, Madam Lin, was the eldest daughter of a scholarly family in Suzhou. She suffered from a heart ailment from a young age and nearly died giving birth to Shen Ci. Shen Ci inherited her mother's illness and her body riddled with wounds.

She never stepped out of the vermilion gate of the Shen residence.

To her, the outside world was nothing more than a patch of spring scenery seen through carved windows, the poems and songs told by her tutor, and the aroma of chestnut pastries brought back by her maids.

She had studied music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, and read the Four Books and Five Classics. Everything about her was carefully handled by dozens of servants and meticulously nurtured with precious medicinal herbs in this ornately decorated mansion.

"Miss, you look radiant today. Would you like to take a stroll in the garden?"

"It's too windy, I'm not going."

She was like an orchid grown in a glass dome, unable to withstand wind and rain, or heat and cold.

In her more than twenty years of life, Shen Ci had taken more medicine than she had eaten, and met more doctors than men. She learned to calmly accept a handkerchief when coughing up blood, and to quietly lean against a soft pillow and count her heartbeats when her heart was pounding.

Her parents cried their eyes out for her. They gave her the nickname "Youyou" in the hope that she would be carefree. But in the end, she didn't make it through that winter.

The snow fell heavily that day. Shen Ci leaned against the window of the warm pavilion, embroidering a flying bird. As she embroidered, a sudden sharp pain shot through her heart. She looked down and saw a red plum blossom blooming on her plain white undergarment, three times more vibrant than the silk thread in her hand.

She tried to call for help, but no sound came out. The snow scene before her eyes gradually blurred, and the last thing she saw was the orchid she had been growing for many years on the windowsill.

So this is what death is like.

There was no pain, no fear, only a strange sense of lightness, as if I had finally unloaded a burden I had carried for many years.

……

When Shen Ci opened her eyes again, she thought she had arrived in the underworld.

All around was a void of whiteness; there was no sky, no earth, no light, and no shadow.

She looked down at her hands, pale and slender, but no longer sickly as before—she could feel her heart beating strongly, one beat after another, steady and vibrant.

"Where...am I?"

She tentatively took a few steps forward; there was no solid ground beneath her feet, yet she didn't fall. In this terrifyingly empty world, she was all alone, or rather, a soul.

Feeling utterly bored, she simply sat down cross-legged—after all, there was no ground to speak of.

She remembered the strange tales her mother had told her, about how after death one must travel the Yellow Springs Road, cross the Bridge of Helplessness, and meet the King of Hell. The King of Hell had a Book of Life and Death, in which everyone's lifespan was recorded.

"King Yama?" she called out tentatively, but her voice echoed in the void without a reply.

"Black and White Impermanence?"

"Meng Po?"

There was nothing there.

Just when Shen Ci thought he would have to stay in this endless blank space forever, a book suddenly appeared in front of him.

The book appeared out of thin air, hovering in front of her. There were no words on the cover, but it emitted a faint golden light.

Shen Ci's heart skipped a beat—could this be the legendary Book of Life and Death?

She cautiously reached out her hand, and the moment her fingertips touched the pages, the book automatically opened, revealing several large characters on the first page:

"The Little Angel of a Beijing Bigwig"

Shen Ci: "...?"

She stared at that line of text for a long time, then turned a few more pages.

The protagonist of the book is a woman named Su Zijin.

She was abandoned by her parents at a young age and grew up in poverty in an orphanage.

Despite the hardships in her life, she maintained her kind and beautiful nature. With her perseverance and excellent grades, she was admitted to the same university as the male protagonist, Jiang Duo, and changed her destiny through knowledge.

After graduation, Su Zijing joined Jiang Duo's company as his personal assistant thanks to her outstanding abilities. Working together day and night, their relationship gradually evolved from superior-subordinate to that of close partners.

Years later, in a chance conversation, Jiang Duo was shocked to discover that Su Zijing was actually his real savior at the scene of his car accident during his sophomore year of college.

The revelation of this truth caused their relationship to transcend workplace boundaries and quickly heat up, with Jiang Duo trusting Su Zijing even more.

In the latter half of the book, as their relationship progresses, Su Zijin, with her unique personal charm and inner radiance, also attracts the attention and favor of Jiang Duo's friends, adding new waves and challenges to their relationship.

So, this is a... storybook?

Before Shen could finish reading the poem, he fell into a coma again.

When she opened her eyes again, she thought she had arrived at the underworld.

But the underworld shouldn't be like this—the air is filled with mist and warmth, and a faint smell of sulfur floats in the air.

Shen Ci was immersed in warm water, with unknown flower petals floating on the surface, their crimson color like blood.

This is... a hot spring?

She moved her fingers, but her fingertips didn't touch the water ripples.

The touch was firm and warm, so unfamiliar that it made her heart tremble.

Shen Ci slowly raised her head.

Amidst the swirling steam, she saw a person sitting opposite her in the hot spring pool.

It was a man.

An extremely handsome young man.

He closed his eyes to rest, his brow bones were deep, his nose was high and straight as if carved by a knife, and his thin lips were pressed into a cold line.

Water droplets slid down his collarbone and disappeared beneath the surface. He was only wearing a thin white undergarment—no, it wasn't an undergarment, but a style that Shen Ci hadn't seen in twenty years, reaching only to his waist, revealing his firm abdomen and long, slender legs.

Shen Ci's breathing stopped.

She had barely lived all these years and had never seen such a scene. Even the storybooks her maids brought her wouldn't dare depict such a vivid and sensual scene.

The man's chest was faintly visible in the steam, his muscles clearly defined, unlike any other man she had ever seen—without the cover of wide robes and sleeves, without the constraints of etiquette and rules, he sat there "naked" and at ease, like a jade statue for people to admire.

What terrified Shen Ci even more was—

Her hand was resting on the man's leg.

To be precise, it was the original owner's hand.

Slender, fair fingers were gently resting on the man's firm inner thighs in an almost flirtatious manner, with the fingertips even seemingly caressing them.

Shen Ci's mind exploded.

She jerked her hand back, but lost her balance due to the sudden movement. The pebbles at the bottom of the hot spring were extremely slippery, and she fell backward, splashing water everywhere, and tumbled into the pool in a disheveled state.

"Thump—"

She choked on a mouthful of hot spring water, struggled to the surface, and coughed violently.

Once she had steadied herself in the water, she wiped the water off her face and cautiously looked up.

The man opposite her had opened his eyes at some point and was looking at her.

His eyes were extremely deep, as if they were filled with ink or frozen ice, revealing no emotion whatsoever.