I gasped for breath.
My chest constricted, each inhale shallow and sharp, while tears spilled freely—almost mockingly—before the sacred halls of the Celestial Heavens, before the revered Shulian Dong itself.
How was this possible?
Death—something that should have never touched me—had once flowed through my veins like poison. I had felt it claim me. And yet… here I was.
I opened my eyes in shock.
A hand was holding mine.
Warm. Solid.
Before me knelt a man.
My vision blurred as my body trembled, dragged violently back into the present. My breath hitched as recognition struck with merciless clarity.
How could he be here?
How could he be kneeling before me once more?
Zhang Cheng.
High General of the Celestial Realm.
I had died. I knew I had. I had lost something no celestial should ever lose—because he had killed me. And yet time itself had twisted, folded inward, and delivered me back to this moment.
Could it be… my vow was heard?
Was I reborn?
There was no other explanation.
I had returned to the past—to a time before my marriage ever took place.
I looked down at our joined hands. My heart faltered the instant the truth settled fully within me.
Zhang Cheng.
A high general of the Celestial Realm.
And the man who had once been my husband.
The man who had orchestrated my death.
Rage surged forth—searing, familiar—entwined with the ache of pain I had never truly buried. And still, disbelief rooted me in place. This was the man who had taken everything from me, now lowered to his knees once again. The sight sent another violent wave of fury coursing through my veins.
But beneath it…
Something else stirred.
A twisted, dangerous hope.
Could it be?
Could my vow truly have been heard?
Is it possible that I have been reborn?
I had.
The realization settled slowly, then all at once, crashing through me like a celestial tide. Hope surged—bright and treacherous—mingled with burning hatred toward the man who dared to kneel before me.
I knew now.
This was my second chance at life.
And I would use it.
To avenge my unborn child.
All of it swirled within me—rage, grief, hope—forming a maelstrom that threatened to tear me apart.
Then he spoke.
"Xiaozhen, my treasure," Zhang Cheng said softly. "Cry if you must, for today is a day of joy. I claim your hand. As the Jade Princess of the Celestial Realm, you shall be my wife. Together, we shall grow strong—and our family stronger still."
His words rang like a vow.
And to me—
They sounded like a sentence.
My chest tightened further—not with joy, but with a surge of burning fury. Every word, every practiced warmth in his tone, was a reminder of the man who had once destroyed me without mercy.
And yet, I could not let the truth show.
Not here.
Not now.
I forced my lips into a radiant smile, one befitting the Jade Princess of the Celestial Realm. My lashes dipped, veiling the tempest churning beneath my gaze. To anyone watching, I must have appeared overwhelmed with emotion—moved by devotion, softened by fate.
How fitting.
His fingers tightened around mine, as though afraid I might vanish. The irony almost made me laugh. Once, I had vanished—from life itself.
"General Zhang," I said softly, my voice trembling just enough to sound shy, grateful. "You honor me."
The court erupted into gentle murmurs of approval. Immortals smiled. Elders nodded. The heavens themselves seemed pleased.
Only I knew the truth.
This was not destiny.
This was a loop.
He bowed his head lower, reverent. "From this day forward, I swear my blade, my loyalty, and my life to you."
A vow.
How many vows had he sworn before my death? How many had he broken the moment it suited him?
I lowered my gaze to our entwined hands. Once, these hands had trembled in fear. Now, they were steady.
Let him believe I was still the woman he remembered—gentle, obedient, unaware.
Let him think I was his salvation.
In truth, I had returned not to be saved…
But to remember everything.
The poison.
The betrayal.
The child who never drew breath.
This time, I would not walk blindly into the cage he prepared.
This time, I would smile.
And when the moment came—
I would make him kneel again.
But not in devotion.
In ruin.
My next answer hurting my very soul.
"I… I am honored, Cheng." My fingers tightening slightly in his grasp. "This… this is indeed a day of celebration."
I looked into his eyes with fake devotion.
"I gladly accept your engagement."
Words only tasted sweet. But it was filled with venom.
Beneath the serene mask, fury seethed like molten steel. Each word I spoke was a lie, each smile a trap. He would never know that I, the Jade Princess whose hand he was holding before him, was already crafting his reckoning across all his immortal life.
Yet I know I could not let my feelings get the better of me, not yet. I have to keep a facade, pretend as though I am still the same naive and happy princess he proposed to centuries ago. I shall force myself to maintain the mask of happiness and love, even as my heart aches with pain and anger.
The sound of applause echoed through the room as the engagement was announced. "I expect this engagement with love," I said with feigned happiness, what garbage, of course. "Of course. We will take pride in the celebration."
The Jade Princess had been promised to be wedded in a grand ceremony. All eyes were on me, but my mind was elsewhere. Despite the joy and celebration surrounding me. Thoughts of the past consumed my mind. The memories of my previous life and my death. The only thing I could take hold of was the deep anger and determination building inside me; revenge within.
This engagement could either be my downfall or my opportunity for revenge. I would have to play my cards carefully to ensure the latter. As I considered my situation, I began to realize the significance of the events that were surrounding me from the time of my engagement to the time of my marriage.
If I wished for the latter, I would need to tread carefully. Every word, every gesture, every moment from this engagement until the day of my marriage would matter. Only now did I begin to grasp the true weight of the events unfolding around me.
The danger had not begun today.
It had already been closing in—one week before this very engagement.
I remembered the chaos clearly.
The rebellion.
Monkey King and his sworn brotherhood had dared to rise against my father, Jade Emperor. Their attempt to overthrow the heavens had been swift—and utterly crushed. Most of the rebels vanished in the aftermath, their fates swallowed by silence and secrecy.
All but one.
The Monkey King's closest ally had been captured, tried, and sentenced to execution. The Six-Eared Macaque. A warrior of such great power, with the ability to hear the things unheard of. Six ears glamoured to only two with the ability to hear far in miles of the past, present, and the future.
Yet half a month before the blade was meant to fall, he escaped.
No body.No trail.No explanation.
Only a lingering shadow cast across the court, one that refused to dissipate.
And though the celebrations continued, my engagement was heralded as a blessing.
I could not shake the feeling that fate itself had already begun to move its pieces.
Quietly.Deliberately.
It was during that same time that my own life had been targeted. Assassination attempts, subtle and cruel, tested me at every turn. I can still feel the tension of those moments—the silent awareness that at any misstep, I could have been struck down. Even now, the memory tightens my pulse. Every smile, every bow I offer to the court is a mask. I must survive, I remind myself, to plan... to repay those who have wronged me.
At first, Zhang Cheng had blamed it on the Six-Eared Macaque.
According to him, the primate had been angered by his sentence from the Ten Kings Court and had tried to kill me, the Jade Emperor's daughter. Out of revenge. But the more I thought about those past events, the more I suspected the truth: maybe the assassination attempts had not been the work of the Six-Eared Macaque at all.
It hit me then, the full weight of my situation. Zhang Cheng—my husband—had orchestrated them. Every failed attempt, every shadow that crept too close, had been his doing. My blood boiled at the thought, and I swore silently that he would pay for everything he had done to me.
Rebirth had given me a chance to rewrite the outcome. Some of those attempts could end differently this time. But with that knowledge came a sharper fear: what if he tried to kill me earlier than before? That thought alone made my senses razor-sharp, my mind constantly calculating, my every action measured. I had to survive… to outwit him… to make him answer for the pain he had caused me.
Every failed assassination. Every shadow that lingered too close. Every moment where death brushed past me without taking hold—it had all been his design. The realization made my blood boil, rage coiling hot and vicious in my veins. I lowered my gaze, hiding the storm in my eyes, and swore silently that he would pay for every sin he had committed against me.
I suddenly understood that I cannot plot my revenge and simultaneously deal with the constant assassination attempts by my husband.
With planning came fear—sharper, colder, far more dangerous than ignorance. What if he struck sooner than before? What if he chose a different method? What if this time, he left no room for survival?
Behind the closed doors of my chamber, the mask finally slipped.
Frustration welled within me as the full impossibility of my situation settled in. Once again, my thoughts spiraled—assassination attempts waiting in the shadows, the quiet hostility of the other princesses I had once faced, the ever-present fear of poison, and the unsettling reality that even my own servants could not be trusted.
Enemies surrounded me on all sides.
There was no one I could rely on. No one I could speak to freely. No one whose loyalty was certain.
If I wished to survive, I would need more than vigilance.
I needed eyes and ears of my own.
Someone I could control to a degree—yet trust, at least partially. Someone skilled enough to detect danger before it reached me. Poison, deception, unfamiliar threats that differed from the path my previous life had taken. Someone I could have power over, but more power than I. It was deemed to me impossible.
Such power within the Celestial Heavens was nearly impossible to obtain in itself.
A sudden knock came to my door, irritating coil in my chest. Not even a moment of peace after the celebration. The interruption scraped against my already-frayed patience. I hesitated, weighing whether to ignore it altogether, before releasing a slow, resigned sigh.
Reluctantly, I rose to my feet and crossed the room, my mind racing with possibilities. Who would dare disturb me at this hour?
I opened the door.
My breath caught.
Standing before me was the same lady-in-waiting who had been executed in my past life—killed on my husband's orders.
Memories flooding back, I felt a wave of unease. The truth struck me like a punch to the gut—General Zhang had used the lady-in-waiting as a pawn to poison me, and after the attempt's failure, he had her executed to hide his involvement. I could only swallow hard, trying to maintain my composure as I faced the lady-in-waiting.
"What brings you here at this hour?" My voice emerged assured, betraying none of the unrest coiling beneath my calm exterior.
The lady-in-waiting curtsied, her movements precise, practiced. "My apologies for disturbing you so late, Princess," she said evenly. "I wished to see whether you required anything before retiring for the night."
Polite. Respectful.
Evil.
It was subtle, but I caught it—the faint tension beneath her courtesy, the careful distance threaded into her tone. She was not merely doing her duty. She was watching. Measuring.
A realization struck me with sudden clarity.
There was a way.
The Six-Eared Macaque.
The celestial primate born of cunning and perception, his six ears concealed beneath layers of glamour and illusion. He could hear what others could not—whispers carried across miles, secrets spoken behind sealed doors. More than that, his senses were sharpened far beyond any immortal's.
Even scent.
Poison would not escape him.
The thought sent a slow, dangerous calm through me. While others relied on loyalty that could be bought or broken, I could rely on capability. On instinct. On advantage.
A step ahead of every cup poured.Every dish prepared.Every shadow that crept too close.
If anyone could serve as my eyes and ears within the Celestial Heavens, it was him.
"Actually, there is something I need from you."
The lady-in-waiting's expression did not change, though her eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, Princess?" she asked. "How may I be of assistance?" There was a trace of curiosity now, restrained but unmistakable.
I turned away without answering at once.
Crossing the chamber, I seated myself at my desk and drew out a blank scroll. My hand moved swiftly, deliberately, the brush strokes precise as I sealed my request within layers of formal phrasing and implication. When I finished, I rolled the scroll closed and pressed my seal upon it.
Only then did I look back at her.
"Shuihua," I said, my tone gentle yet weighted with urgency, "I want you to deliver this scroll to the Jade Emperor."
Her posture straightened immediately.
Despite knowing that Shuihua would likely be tempted to read the scroll for information, I could not help but feel a small sense of satisfaction in my request. Knowing that the message would reach my husband-to-be and possibly irk him was an extra bit of spite that I could never resist.
"I wish this to be considered part of my engagement gift," I continued calmly. "Since my betrothal to High General Zhang, I fear there may be individuals who seek to do me harm. For my own safety, I ask that this message be delivered at once."
Shuihua nodded, curiosity piqued by my words. "Of course, Your Highness," she replied, her tone respectful. "I will deliver the scroll to the Jade Emperor without delay, and I will not read its contents."
I merely nodded in acknowledgment.
"Please ensure the Jade Emperor gets this message as soon as possible," my voice was composed and firm.
The Jade Emperor had never been deeply attached to me. As his adopted daughter, I had always occupied a careful distance—acknowledged, protected by title, yet rarely cherished. Once, that truth had stung more than I cared to admit.
Now, I understand its value.
Detachment wasa strength in this life, for it meant he would act with reason rather than sentiment. He would weigh risk, reputation, and stability within the Celestial Heavens—not affection. And in that cold balance, my request might find firmer ground. If danger threatened the Jade Princess, it threatened the order of the heavens themselves.
That alone was reason enough for him to listen.
The Jade Emperor, though never particularly affectionate toward me, would still be inclined to grant my request—if only to avoid suspicion or displeasure within the court. Titles carried weight, and appearances mattered more than sentiment in the Celestial Heavens.
Shuihua needed not only to deliver the scroll—but to inform General Zhang of its contents.
That, I decided, would be the icing on the cake. After all, there was nothing wrong with a touch of pettiness, neatly applied like decoration. At least, not in my opinion. She had been devoted to my husband in my past life—faithful enough to die for it. Once, that loyalty had cost her everything. Now, it presented me with an opportunity. I would not confront her deceit.
I would use it.
Obedience could be shaped. Betrayal could be redirected.
And if she wished to serve Zhang Cheng so faithfully, then I would allow her to do so—on my terms.
Power?
Mainipulation?
Everything that goes through the celestial heavens, I never once tried to touch. I never wanted to connect to the celestial heavens.
But why should I be any different now?
My reputation for being overly cheerful—too kind, too naïve—had always worked in my favor. It invited underestimation. Adversaries mistook sweetness for weakness, mistook warmth for ignorance.
They were wrong.
Beneath that pleasant veneer lay a sharp tongue and a calculating mind. And in this life, I intended to wield that misconception like a blade—letting others lower their guard while I observed, planned, and waited.
Yet despite the strength I displayed outwardly, loss pressed heavily against my heart.
Grief.
It was something no celestial could truly escape, no matter how exalted their rank or how vast their power. Grief existed everywhere in the heavens—in stolen lovers bound by duty, in titles lost to political tides, in immortals watching centuries slip through their fingers.
But my grief should never have existed here.
It had no rightful place in the Celestial Heavens. The loss of an unborn child was a quiet, unrelenting ache—one I could neither voice nor soothe. It lingered beneath every breath, every smile, every carefully chosen word.
Even in solitude, my thoughts found no rest.
Memories surfaced unbidden—of my unborn child—haunting me with a future that would never exist. A silent reminder of the family I had once longed for, once believed I might have. Once, the thought of having a family with Zhang Cheng had felt almost comforting.
Despite being reborn, I was faced with the harsh reality that there was no way to regain my unborn son. I had never held him. Never had the chance to see his face. The loss and grief were magnified by the fact that this opportunity was forever denied. I had imagined it—raising a child at his side, enduring whatever suffering came my way if it meant protecting that fragile happiness.
I had been willing to sacrifice my own well-being for the illusion of a family, clinging to the hope that even a fleeting moment of warmth might make the torment worthwhile.
How naïve.
In my grief, I wanted Zhang Cheng to suffer for what he had done—not for a single lifetime, but for the entirety of his immortal existence.
Kill him?
No.
Death would be an escape.
Revenge became more than rage—it became purpose. I would devise a strategy that avenged my unborn child not through blood alone, but through consequence. Through loss. Through the slow unraveling of everything he valued.
Eventually, the strain of the day claimed its due. Weariness crept through my limbs, dulling the ache just enough for my body to yield. Exhaustion pulled me under, and sleep finally claimed me—granting a brief mercy from the relentless churn of pain and calculation.
But even as darkness closed in, one truth remained steady in my heart:
The dark was going to surround me and hold me more than General Zhang ever did.