The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

Along the banks of Tanghua Creek, the landscape is shrouded in mist and snow.

The night snow fell softly, like moonlight shattered by the wind, silently covering the world.

Inside the Hall of Longevity, a warm and cozy atmosphere mingled with the fragrance of Singaporean agarwood.

Tangxi Xue struggled to wake up in this drowsy and tranquil atmosphere.

The first sensation to return was touch—the coolness beneath my lips was like jade emitting smoke, and the scent of cold pine resin after a snowfall mingled with the crisp fragrance of plum blossoms about to bloom.

Then, my vision slowly returned.

What comes into view is a long and delicate neck, like the shadow of a crane in a cold pool.

Her skin was a cold, porcelain-white that never saw the light of day, like a river flowing quietly beneath the ice, beautiful yet fragile.

She was lying on top of a man, their breaths mingling and their skin touching.

No, he's not an ordinary man.

It is He Lichen.

The Imperial Preceptor of the Chenyao Dynasty, the Director of Studies who was in charge of the Imperial Observatory and the Imperial Library, was the most unattainable flower in the capital.

At this moment, he was being held captive beneath her.

The moon-white crane cloak slipped off her shoulders, revealing her collarbone, which was as clear and sharp as the ridgeline of a snow-capped mountain.

His long, flowing hair, like ink splashed across the pillow, was covered in strands, a few damp with sweat, clinging to his sculpted, jade-like face.

Tang Xixue's breath froze silently.

It wasn't because of the stunningly beautiful body before him, but because—he had woken up.

Those eyes pierced through the darkness, coldly seizing her.

The background color was a vast, desolate, frosty white, and deep within his pupils was a dark, star-like crane shadow, now filled with a poisonous killing intent.

However, this murderous intent was blurred by an abnormal layer of misty vapor, giving it a somewhat shocking and broken feel.

His eyes were tinged with a faint red, like red plum blossoms suddenly blooming in the snow.

His lips, which were originally as pale as ice orchids, were now bitten until they bled slightly.

"Your Highness..."

He spoke, his voice hoarse like the last embers in burnt-out ashes, low and lingering, unexpectedly giving rise to a captivating tremor.

"How else... can you humiliate me?"

Every word and phrase was like an ice pick piercing the bone, carrying with it the humiliation of sinking into depravity and a chilling murderous intent, permeating every inch of this fragrant inner hall.

Tang Xixue's mind went blank for a moment, and the memories of the past five years, mixed with the absurd fragments left by the transmigrated woman, surged in like a flood.

She is Tang Xixue, the ninth princess of the Chenyao Dynasty, whose nickname is Jingzhi. The stream wind cuts the snow, the bright mirror weaves the sky.

He was also a pitiful creature whose nest had been usurped for five whole years.

Those conquerors from other worlds took over her body one after another, using her beautiful appearance, but they became the biggest joke in the Nine Provinces.

They fawned over those chosen ones and the pride of various nations, relentlessly harassing and trampling the princess's dignity into the mud.

Until the ninth transmigrated woman failed in her attempt to win over the Holy Son of Xizhou Yuefan, she was instantly wiped out by the Fate Book System.

At the very moment her soul was annihilated, Tang Xixue, who had been suppressed deep within her sea of ​​consciousness, seized the opportunity and, with all her hatred and resentment, personally tore apart the tattered book that controlled her destiny!

Having regained control of her body, before she could even savor the joy of rebirth, reality dealt her a heavy blow.

This is hardly a freshman.

This is clearly a hellish start!

"Tangxi Xue! Let go of me, you bastard—!"

A low growl, suppressing a raging fury, broke out from the misty vapor on the other side of the hall, like the desperate struggle of a trapped beast on the verge of death.

Tang Xixue's neck and back stiffened as she slowly turned her gaze away.

Inside the white jade bath, steam rose like gauze.

A figure was tightly bound to a dragon-carved pillar with rough hemp rope. His crimson outfit was soaked with water, clinging to the boy's strong and vigorous body, outlining smooth and beautiful muscle lines.

Water droplets rolled down his taut jawline, indistinguishable between pool water and scalding sweat.

His high ponytail was disheveled, with a few wet strands sticking awkwardly to his forehead and the sides of his neck.

It's the scorching wind.

The young general of the Marquis of Zhenbei's mansion was her childhood sweetheart who followed her around, but they later had a complete falling out.

At this moment, his bright, clear eyes, like tempered glass, were fixed intently on her.

His eyes churned with undisguised hatred, humiliation, and a stinging pain.

This is not over yet.

"Tsk."

A very soft sigh drifted out casually from the dark corner beneath the brocade-draped bed.

Every hair on Tang Xixue's body stood on end in an instant.

That voice was gentle and warm, clear and melodious, like a spring breeze in March brushing against frozen strings, yet it sent a chill down her spine.

She could even feel a sticky, dangerous gaze peering through the cracks in the bed frame.

It is the constellation of stars.

That eccentric healer, who could save lives as easily as picking up a mustard seed and kill as easily as breaking a branch, was both righteous and wicked. His smile was as warm as a spring breeze, but his heart was as deep as a cold pool.

The time-traveling woman used all sorts of absurd methods to attract his attention.

The last time, they stole their secret formula book from the Medicine Valley while he was out collecting herbs.

They even submerged that rare book, which bore the weight of countless efforts, into a cold pond, its characters turning into a blotch of ink.

What is he doing here?

Watching a play?

Or is it revenge?

The air seemed to freeze, filled with a cold fragrance, the smell of medicine, moisture, and an overwhelming sense of killing intent.

Outside the door, the footsteps of her imposing and unpredictable elder brother, Tang Xiye, were clearly audible, their pace steady and cold, as he stopped under the eaves.

Beneath her, He Lichen's breathing grew heavier and heavier, and the icy killing intent almost materialized, stinging her skin.

She could feel his body tense like a fully drawn bowstring, every muscle resisting the effects of the drug and the erosion of his reason.

Under the bed, the faint clinking sound of Si Xingxuan playing with a thin, sharp knife between his fingertips was so clear it sent chills down one's spine.

In the pool, Feng Zhuo was struggling desperately, on the verge of breaking the ropes binding her.

Each and every one of them was a creditor who wished she would disappear immediately;

Each one of them could easily take her life.

Now, she is weak and dizzy, lying on the person she should least be lying on, about to be caught red-handed by her most respected elder brother.

Tang Xixue's fingernails dug deep into her palm, the stinging pain like a quenched silver needle, piercing through the chaos and forcing out a sliver of cold clarity.

The torn pages of the Book of Fate churned within her consciousness, revealing the most despairing truth:

She, the Ninth Princess, was actually a complete... fake.

The true jewel is about to return to its rightful place, while she, the usurper, is destined to have her identity exposed, lose all support, and be crushed into dust.

what.

In the shadows where no one could see her, Tang Xixue's lips curved into an extremely slow, icy arc.

The Book of Fate decreed that she was a vicious female supporting character who would not have a good end. Those time-traveling women would drive her to a dead end, and the whole world was waiting for her to suffer eternal damnation.

But she refused.

She returned from the deepest hell, not to die again.

Long, thick eyelashes drooped down, like the night falling, concealing the sudden, chilling glint in their eyes.

Just then, a palace maid cautiously announced from outside the door:

"Your Majesty, Her Highness the Princess is resting in the palace..."

A thousand pounds can be weighed down by a single hair.

The snow in Tangxi is moving.