Chapter 1: I’m Not One to Spare a Woman from a Beating

Red candles flickered, casting their glow beneath the low-hanging canopy.

Yun Zhaozhao blinked her eyes open in a daze, greeted by a sea of vivid red.

Before she could make sense of her surroundings, a sudden chill swept across her chest. Shocked and furious, she raised her hand and delivered a resounding slap to the figure atop her. As his expression flickered from confusion to anger, she followed with a swift, forceful kick.

A cry split the air—followed by a heavy thud.

Just as Yun Zhaozhao was about to seize the brick at the head of the bed and brandish it, she froze, staring in disbelief at her own long, powerful legs.

"Yun. Zhao. Zhao!"

The man's furious roar seemed loud enough to lift the roof.

"Sixth Brother, are you all right?"

"Young Master, are you okay?"

Two concerned voices called out from outside the door.

"Get out!" Sheng Xingye, ablaze with rage, was like a lion driven mad.

"Yun Zhaozhao, you're dead!"

He gritted his teeth and got to his feet, pain etched on his face, and stormed back to the bedside. "I've never been one to spare women, you know!"

With the memories that had just fused in her mind, Yun Zhaozhao realized that the handsome young man before her was none other than her freshly acquired, so-called husband.

Having never so much as held a man's hand in two lifetimes, Yun Zhaozhao’s heart skipped a beat. She patted the space beside her on the bed, fluttering her lashes, and teased, "Then what are you waiting for, my dear husband~"

That single, drawn-out "husband" made Sheng Xingye shudder from head to toe.

His rage-cleared mind snapped back to clarity. He stopped short, glaring at Yun Zhaozhao with a mix of loathing and wary disbelief.

"Wretched woman, what madness is this now?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Yun Zhaozhao replied with wide-eyed innocence, shooting him a coquettish glance. "Isn’t there a saying—lovers quarrel at the head of the bed, make up at the foot? We’re just living up to it~"

That flirtatious look nearly made Sheng Xingye’s scalp lift off his head. He backed away in alarm, step after step.

"You, you..." He pointed at Yun Zhaozhao, stammering "you, you, you" for ages, but no words would come. His face shifted through a palette of colors—now pale, now flushed, now dark as storm clouds.

This damned woman! She had not a trace of the gentleness a woman ought to possess. Yet by imperial decree, he was bound to her for life; there would be no escape, not even in death.

The more he thought about it, the gloomier he felt. Seeing her lying there, waiting for him to climb into bed, made his fists clench in frustration.

At length, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly loosened his grip.

Calm. He needed to stay calm.

A wise man knows which fights to pick. After all, he truly couldn't win against her—his side still throbbed from pain.

But though Sheng Xingye could yield to the emperor’s decree, he would never submit to Yun Zhaozhao’s brute force!

"You want me to consummate this marriage with you? Dream on!"

"Just wait until tomorrow, when all of the capital laughs at you! Hmph!"

With that, Sheng Xingye spun on his heel and stormed out, leaving Yun Zhaozhao nothing but the view of his determined back. Yet the way he limped away, he looked more like someone fleeing in defeat.

Yun Zhaozhao could hold it in no longer.

"Pfft—hahaha..."

Sheng Xingye ground his teeth in fury.

He strode to the door and flung it open.

With a dull thud, Qin Tianbao—who had had his ear pressed to the door—crashed face-first to the floor.

Looking up, he met Sheng Xingye’s thunderous glare. The curses at the tip of his tongue died, and he whimpered in pain instead.

Sheng Xingye averted his gaze and strode out, face dark as night. Overestimating his stride, a sharp pain suddenly shot through his side.

"Young Master, where are you going? The wedding night has only just begun!"

The matron at the door hurried to call after him.

"What wedding night? That madwoman is like a shrew! She has none of a woman’s grace. To share a bed with her—I’d rather sleep in a coffin!" Sheng Xingye snarled.

With everyone around him left stunned, he strode away, one hand pressed to his aching waist, quickening his pace.

"Sixth Brother, wait for me!" Seeing his pitiful act had no effect, Qin Tianbao scrambled to his feet, shoving aside the servant who tried to help him, and hurried after him.

"Oh dear, what are we to do?" The gatekeeper matron stamped her feet in distress. "No, I must inform the madam at once!"

The matron barely left before Xiaodao let go of Jin Chui, who was still shaking her fist at Sheng Xingye’s retreating back.

"Enough, he’s still the son-in-law, after all."

"Hmph! The way he insulted our young lady—if you hadn’t stopped me, I’d have pounded him flat!" Jin Chui grumbled, her voice like a muffled drum.

Knowing her temperament well, Xiaodao quickly suggested, "Let’s check on the young lady first."

The two of them pushed open the door to the bridal chamber.

"Miss, are you all right?"

Yun Zhaozhao was happily rolling about in the bedclothes, but upon hearing her maid’s voice, she poked her head out of the covers, beaming. "Don’t worry, your lady is just fine!"

How could she not be? With the sudden awakening of her memories, she’d vaulted from a downtrodden laborer in the modern world to a noble heiress in an ancient aristocratic family.

Her physical strength, too, had transformed—from a sickly wraith into a formidable warrior woman.

What sort of fortune was this?

She couldn’t even convince herself that she wasn’t the heavens’ favored daughter!

Then again, if she were truly heaven’s favorite, she wouldn’t have been forced to split her soul at age three.

Her main soul had crossed time and space to become an orphan in the modern era—sickly and feeble, clever in mind but weak in all else.

The body left in the Dayin Dynasty had, ever since, seemed to lose its wit, blunt and straightforward—her words could leave even the mightiest speechless.

She had been in the capital less than half a month before earning the nickname "Little Mallet."

She had offended nearly every well-bred young lady in the city. The few who tolerated her did so either because they liked her younger sister, Yun Chuchu, or out of fear of her martial prowess and her father—the renowned "Big Mallet" general.

Her father, the "Big Mallet," as the officials said, was "simple on the surface, cunning underneath, every word sincere, every sentence a trap."

But truly, had her father been just a brawny fool, how could he have risen from a mere bandit to a third-rank general in just twenty years?

Sadly, she herself had lived up to the name "Little Mallet."

But that was before her main soul returned.

Now—heh—she fully intended to maintain her "mallet" persona.

In this era where women were judged by their quietude and grace, to speak and act as she pleased was sheer delight!

Xiaodao looked at her young mistress, laughing so carelessly, and was torn between relief and worry.

"Miss, your makeup is a bit smudged. Should we help you freshen up? The young master might return soon..."

"He dares come back?!" Jin Chui’s eyes bulged in outrage.

Xiaodao pressed a hand to her forehead. "Miss, you and the young master are joined by imperial decree—a match made in heaven. It’s your wedding night. How could the young master not spend it in the bridal chamber?"

"But didn’t he just leave?" Jin Chui grumbled.

"Don’t say that. He’s only stepped out for a while," Xiaodao replied, turning to Yun Zhaozhao. "Don’t worry, miss. The matron has already gone to inform Madam Hou. The young master will return soon."

Yun Zhaozhao nodded in approval. Trust her "little" maid—slim of build but quick of mind—to see straight to the heart of things.

Jin Chui, still disgruntled, raised her fist. "Miss, he was talking bad about you. Want me to go teach him a lesson?"