"Jiang Ruoshui, how dare you!"
The moment Shu Fu opened her eyes, her vision blurred as a palm came hurtling toward her face with murderous intent.
At that instant, the slap was a mere 0.01 centimeters away from her cheek, and in that split second, she noticed: the hand was fair-skinned, with slender fingers tipped in bright red nail polish. The motion of striking was swift, precise, and ruthless—as if the person had practiced it a thousand times.
Clearly, this was a woman. A woman who had never done much manual labor but was well-versed in slapping others.
Unfortunately for her, while she was accustomed to hitting people, Shu Fu, hailing from a civilized 21st-century family, was not accustomed to being hit. Caught off guard, she had no time to think. Instinctively, she sidestepped, seized the woman’s wrist, and with a sharp tug and push, sent her flying to the ground.
"I’ll teach you a—ahhhhhhh!!!"
Shu Fu: "..."
What a pathetic woman.
With the immediate crisis of nearly being slapped resolved, she finally had the chance to look around and take in her surroundings.
She stood in the center of a spacious, grand hall, flanked by solid wooden tables and chairs, the walls adorned with calligraphy and paintings. Every furnishing was exquisite, resembling the reception hall of an ancient noble household.
Before her, a crowd had gathered—men in tall hats and broad sashes, women bedecked in pearls and jade—none of whom looked like they were filming a drama. If this were a set, the production quality would have to rival The Kangxi Dynasty.
Ah. So I’ve time-traveled. Shu Fu calmly realized.
"Mother! Mother, are you alright?"
The next second, a young girl’s delicate cry rang in her ears, so melodious it could rival an opera singer’s.
"Elder Sister!"
Before Shu Fu could even turn her head, the girl’s tone shifted, laced with anger and a floral-scented breath that practically sprayed onto her face. "Out of respect for you as my elder sister, I’ve endured and tolerated so much. How could you lay hands on my mother?!"
"?"
Shu Fu mentally drew a question mark.
Wasn’t it your mother who struck first?
Not only had she time-traveled, but her family situation was also… complicated.
Shu Fu wasn’t entirely clueless—the name "Jiang Ruoshui" sounded familiar, and fragments of memories that weren’t hers swirled in her mind, reminding her of the original owner’s existence.
But the sheer volume of information was overwhelming. She needed time to sort it out.
Fortunately, this family was eager to help. Without waiting for her response, they immediately began bombarding her with intel.
"Outrageous! Jiang Ruoshui, you’ve grown bold—engaging in illicit affairs, stealing Baozhu’s belongings, and now daring to retaliate when I discipline you on your father’s behalf?!"
The woman she had just thrown to the ground sprang up like a firecracker, spewing sparks of fury.
She appeared to be in her early thirties, with delicate features that could be considered beautiful—if not for the pettiness etched into her brows and the venom practically oozing from her eyes in her rage.
Beside her, the girl who had called her "Mother" was petite, no older than twelve or thirteen, her face still childlike but already mirroring her mother’s haughty, spiteful demeanor.
Now, she too joined in the righteous indignation: "Elder Sister, if you stole from me, I could have simply given the items to you. But you… you’re already betrothed to Brother Xuan! How could you be so fickle, pledging yourself to Senior Brother Gao and shaming our family? Mother only struck you out of concern for your own good!"
"??????"
Shu Fu’s mind flooded with question marks.
This melodramatic plot—how familiar it felt!
The mother-daughter duo’s performance, however, inadvertently jogged Shu Fu’s memory, fully recalling the story of Jiang Ruoshui, the female lead.
Indeed, Jiang Ruoshui was the protagonist of Immortal Romance: Weak Waters Three Thousand, an early-2000s angst-ridden tragedy.
The novel had sparked outrage online back in the day for its relentless torment of the heroine, drawing swarms of furious readers and onlookers. Even years later, Shu Fu still remembered it vividly.
Just recalling the title made her organs twist in phantom pain, a reminder of her youthful naivety in stumbling upon such a landmine.
One man’s honey is another man’s poison—never had a phrase fit so perfectly.
---
In Weak Waters Three Thousand, Jiang Ruoshui was born into the Jiang clan, a prominent cultivation family, as the granddaughter of the old patriarch.
The Jiangs had long been allied with the neighboring Qi family, arranging a marriage between Jiang Ruoshui and Qi Yuxuan, the grandson of the Qi patriarch.
Qi Yuxuan lived up to his name—tall, handsome, and noble, the quintessential male lead archetype in xianxia novels. Jiang Ruoshui adored him, dreaming since childhood of marrying her "Brother Xuan."
But happiness was fleeting. Jiang Ruoshui’s mother perished in a battle against demonic beasts, leaving her father, Jiang Haoran, to "grieve" for three whole months—before promptly remarrying his mistress, Chu Xiao, and bringing home Jiang Baozhu, Jiang Ruoshui’s younger half-sister by a year.
By then, the old patriarch had passed, and as the new clan leader, who could stop Jiang Haoran from elevating his concubine?
Jiang Haoran’s first marriage had been purely political, leaving him indifferent toward his daughter. Chu Xiao ruled the household with an iron fist, subjecting Jiang Ruoshui to constant abuse, while Jiang Haoran turned a blind eye.
But there was one thing Chu Xiao and Jiang Baozhu couldn’t take from her.
—Her engagement to Qi Yuxuan.
The Qi patriarch was a man of his word. The betrothal was to Jiang Ruoshui, down to the last strand of hair. Driven mad with envy, Chu Xiao and Jiang Baozhu schemed to ruin her reputation—hence today’s farce.
Wait, why would immortal cultivators care about chastity?
Who knew? The novel insisted on it.
In the original plot, to prove her innocence, Jiang Ruoshui submitted to a "family punishment" (improvised by Chu Xiao), enduring torture so severe she nearly died. Moved by her suffering, the Qi elders upheld the engagement.
But Qi Yuxuan refused. He despised arranged marriages, having already pledged his heart to a white moonlight of his own.
That same year, the Jiuhua Sect—one of the four great cultivation sects—opened its doors to new disciples. Jiang Baozhu, Qi Yuxuan, and his beloved all joined. Against all odds, Jiang Ruoshui fought her way in at the last moment, enduring hardship to stand by Qi Yuxuan’s side.
What awaited her was his disdain, Jiang Baozhu’s bullying, the white moonlight’s incessant flaunting, and the scorn of her peers.
Yet Jiang Ruoshui persevered—until Qi Yuxuan finally had his "Oh? Not bad.jpg" moment.
During this period, she catered to Qi Yuxuan’s every whim—copying books for him without rest, exhausting herself to gather spiritual herbs for him, and even risking her life to save his beloved "white moonlight." Things like transferring her cultivation or shedding blood were trivial in comparison. Once, when the white moonlight was severely injured and Jiang Ruoshui happened to be nearby, she became the prime suspect. To dispel Qi Yuxuan’s doubts, Jiang Ruoshui carved out a piece of her leg bone and gave it away along with her newly formed golden core, forcing herself to start cultivating from scratch again—and leaving her with a permanent limp.
Shu Fu had no doubt that if this were a modern story, the female lead would’ve donated a kidney by this point.
In the end, Jiang Ruoshui’s relentless, self-sacrificial love moved the male lead, winning his heart.
"Sure, the female lead lost a leg, but she gained love!"—or something like that.
Naturally, this provoked the jealousy of the villainous female side characters (A, B, and C), who escalated their bullying until they framed Jiang Ruoshui for "colluding with demonic cultivators." Taking advantage of Qi Yuxuan’s absence, they subjected her to brutal punishment—stripping her of her cultivation, gouging out her eyes, disfiguring her face, and abandoning her in the demonic realm to die.
But Jiang Ruoshui’s protagonist halo saved her. Against all odds, she survived, met a demonic cultivator (male supporting character), and safely returned under his protection.
Ironically, this only "confirmed" her guilt in Qi Yuxuan’s eyes. The moment he had begun to develop feelings for her, he immediately turned hostile, ran her through with his sword, and married his white moonlight without a second thought.
Jiang Ruoshui, pushed to her limit, succumbed to grief and rage, transforming into a demonic cultivator—a "wicked enchantress" the righteous sects now sought to exterminate.
What followed was a hundred chapters of misunderstandings, conflicts, amnesia, a "runaway pregnancy," and endless emotional and physical torment. After enduring eighty-one hardships, the male and female leads finally reconciled and achieved their happy ending.
Oh, and by the way—the male lead also had a child with his white moonlight, whom Jiang Ruoshui later raised in the epilogue, treating the child as her own.
As for Jiang Ruoshui herself? The first time she got pregnant, the villainous side characters schemed until she miscarried. The second time, she fled while pregnant, only for the male lead to doubt the child’s paternity and nearly behead his own son. Afterward, he repeatedly used the incident as an excuse for his "possessiveness"—which was really just immortal-world domestic abuse.
And yet, Jiang Ruoshui still believed she was happy with him in the end.
...
Jiang Ruoshui was truly a tragic, awe-inspiring figure. Shu Fu searched her soul and concluded that she could never endure such a bullet-riddled plotline for the sake of a happy ending.
This is so fing stupid!!!
If she had to navigate hundreds of chapters of this nonsense for a happy ending, she’d rather grab an AK-47 and mow them all down.
Just looking at the mother-daughter pair before her made her head throb, as if her eyes and dignity were being violently assaulted.
Shu Fu quickly reviewed the plot in her mind. The thought of Jiang Ruoshui being entangled with these two freaks for life—and encountering even more in the future—made her stomach churn. She was genuinely afraid she might vomit on the spot, embodying the phrase "so angry I could puke."
Back in her internet-surfing days, she had been a keyboard warrior of legendary renown—a woman of simple tastes who exclusively read power fantasies and dropped any story that dared to make her feel even a nanometer of frustration.
Her reading philosophy was simple: "The female lead must never suffer, no matter what."
Never did she imagine she’d one day transmigrate into the body of a tragic heroine!
This was worse than getting screwed by a dog—no, worse than getting screwed by a poodle!
Shu Fu respected the preferences of tragic romance readers, but she had zero interest in suffering in their heroine’s place.
If she was going to transmigrate into a novel, it had to be as the protagonist of a power fantasy—no compromises.
Meanwhile, Chu Xiao and Jiang Baozhu, blissfully unaware that the meek Jiang Ruoshui had been body-snatched, grew more smug by the second, their faces practically glowing as if Jiang Baozhu had already replaced her sister in Qi Yuxuan’s affections and was set to marry him tomorrow.
As for the dignified middle-aged man beside them—Jiang Ruoshui’s biological father, Jiang Haoran—he maintained an upright posture and an air of impartiality, but his biases were so blatant they might as well be written in the sky.
If everyone had a scale of justice in their heart, Jiang Haoran’s was replaced with uneven parallel bars—his eldest daughter buried in the dirt, his youngest daughter perched in the clouds. He was the living embodiment of uneven bars, a true "uneven-bars spirit"—or in modern terms, a hypocrite.
A textbook evil stepmother, a rotten-hearted white-lotus younger sister, and a father who embodied hypocrisy.
A full set of scumbags—congratulations, the gang’s all here.
Jiang Haoran had a knack for playing both sides. After Chu Xiao’s righteous tirade, he stroked his beard with feigned solemnity and turned to Shu Fu with a stern reprimand:
"Ruoshui, I have always treated you and Baozhu equally. Yet you—"
Shu Fu nodded agreeably. "You’re right. You think you treat us equally."
Jiang Haoran’s expression darkened. "What did you say?"
"Nothing." Shu Fu smiled at him, her expression almost magnanimous. "Please, continue. I’m listening."
"..."
Jiang Haoran, caught off guard by her interruption, stumbled over his words before regaining his momentum: "I—I have treated you and Baozhu equally. Yet you, consumed by jealousy, stole the birthday gift I gave her and pledged it as a token of your illicit affair! You sought to ruin her reputation—such malice!"
He slammed the table. "Your heart is truly vile!"
Shu Fu: "..."
Wow. The audacity of this gaslighting.
She felt nothing, except perhaps the urge to give them a slow clap.
In the original plot, Jiang Ruoshui would swear her innocence, prompting Chu Xiao to propose a "family punishment"—three brutal tortures. If she endured them without recanting, they’d believe her.
Of course, Chu Xiao’s real goal was to cripple Jiang Ruoshui, ensuring she could never marry into the Qi family.
Right on cue, Chu Xiao declared with feigned sorrow: "Jiang Ruoshui, if you cannot prove your innocence, the Jiang family can no longer keep you! But if you wish to clear your name, I have a solution..."
Shu Fu: "Oh, then don’t keep me."
Chu Xiao: "If you’re willing, you must undergo—wait, what did you say?"
"I said, don’t keep me." Shu Fu repeated patiently, her smile still serene. "You can’t stand the sight of me, and looking at you makes me sick. Why force it? Let’s part ways and spare each other the misery. That way, I won’t have to explain my trashy family tree to people."
With that, she turned and strode toward the door.
But halfway there, she reconsidered—this wasn’t satisfying enough after all the crap she’d endured. So she spun on her heel, marched back, and stopped in front of Jiang Baozhu, studying the delicate white lotus with a smile.
Jiang Baozhu shivered under her gaze. "Sister… why are you looking at me like that?"
"..."
Shu Fu smiled wordlessly, her expression brimming with maternal affection as she reached out to stroke the young girl’s head—then, in a sudden motion, she seized the girl’s hair knot, yanked it backward, and delivered a fierce slap across her delicate cheek with her other hand.
A sharp crack echoed through the air as Jiang Baozhu was sent spinning like a gaudy top, twirling halfway before collapsing face-first onto the ground—right where her mother had fallen earlier.
“Y-you… you y-you…”
Jiang Baozhu was utterly dazed, clutching her cheek in disbelief. “You hit me?! How dare you—”
“Yes, I hit you,” Shu Fu replied with a straight face. “Your mother hit my mother’s daughter, so I’m hitting your mother’s daughter on my mother’s behalf. Perfectly logical, isn’t it?”
Then, with a swift sidestep to evade the enraged Chu Xiao and a dismissive glance at the stunned Jiang Haoran, she cheerfully bid them farewell—this time, truly without looking back—and strode out the door.
Jiang Ruoshui’s memories had already merged with hers. She knew exactly where her room was, where the keepsakes of her late mother remained.
Shu Fu’s goal was crystal clear: pack her belongings as quickly as possible and leave the Jiang household.
Once she walked out, she had no intention of ever returning.
—A cultivation novel! This was a cultivation novel!
—If people could ascend to the heavens, yet couldn’t even vault over a measly courtyard wall and remained trapped in petty squabbles, what was the point of cultivating immortality or seeking the Dao?!
—Want to drag me into your harem drama? Fight your damn mother instead!!!
