Chapter 1: Chapter 1

The 22nd Year of Kangxi's Reign, Plum Garden

After a heavy snowfall, the Forbidden City grew even colder.

Carefully pulling on her homemade cotton gloves, An Ning—a former university student now reduced to a pitiful palace maid—began dragging her broom to sweep the snow with labored breaths.

The melodious strains of opera drifted to her ears. As it was the Lantern Festival, both inside and outside the palace walls were filled with celebration. The opera here sounded even more beautiful than what she'd heard on television—graceful and enchanting, tugging at heartstrings. But An Ning only listened briefly before refocusing on vigorously sweeping the snow.

Every now and then, she'd blow warm air onto her trembling hands.

No matter how lively, it ultimately belonged to others.

Moreover, if any withered branches or dead leaves remained uncleaned and caught the eyes of passing nobles during such times, the stern matrons overseeing Plum Garden wouldn't go easy on her.

Thinking of the original owner of this body, An Ning couldn't help but inhale sharply.

In the depths of the palace, the lives of low-ranking servants were worthless.

The original owner of this body was named Magiya An Ning, originally a bondservant under the Plain Yellow Banner. But don't misunderstand—though they shared the same surname, her family branch had absolutely no connection to the palace's Consort Rong. At most, they merely shared the same surname. Perhaps centuries ago, they'd shared a common ancestor?

The Eight Banners system of the Qing Dynasty was truly something—people with the same surname could be worlds apart. Some were born as bannermen, spared from the hardship of serving in the palace.

But the original owner had been particularly unlucky.

Her father had held an official position—albeit a minor sixth-rank military post beneath the imperial city—which should have been enough to secure his daughter a better position than this backbreaking, dead-end assignment in Plum Garden.

As the saying goes, "With a stepmother comes a stepfather." Before turning ten, the original owner had lived comfortably, with maids attending to her every need. But after her mother's death and her father's swift remarriage—producing two new children within years—she and her unfortunate younger brother became unwanted grains of rice clinging stubbornly to the meal board.

It was reasonable to suspect that the original owner's frail health—nearly succumbing to a single punishment—resulted from prolonged mistreatment rather than just the immediate abuse.

An Ning took a deep breath and continued sweeping snow with labored effort.

In the depths of winter, the cold was relentless. Soon, An Ning's fair hands turned bright red from frostbite, while her feet grew numb. As a low-ranking maid, the shoes issued by the Imperial Household Department offered no real warmth. Even after padding them with extra cotton, the bitter cold rendered her efforts useless.

No wonder everyone in the palace clawed their way upward, An Ning mused.

This dog's life was truly unbearable.

"Wuwuwu... Host, you're suffering so much," whimpered a teacup poodle-shaped system in her consciousness, its face mournful.

"Host is too pitiful! Maybe next time Steward Cui comes, you should just agree!"

The Cui steward mentioned by the system oversaw assignments for servants in this area—essentially An Ning's supervisor's supervisor. The original owner had entered the palace at barely thirteen; four years later, though palace life was harsh, regular meals had restored her health after her stepmother's neglect left her malnourished and sallow. Particularly in the last six months, her beauty had blossomed. With Noble Consort Liang as precedent, opportunistic eyes naturally turned toward such a potential beauty.

Steward Cui was merely one among many. That "accident" last month likely stemmed from this.

An Ning lowered her gaze. No matter what, she couldn't stay here.

The system prattled on.

"With the Spirit Spring Water, you'll only grow more beautiful! Even being a low-ranking concubine is better than this, right?"

"And the original owner's wish was to live well while ensuring her younger brother's success and making her scum father regret everything!"

"If you become an imperial favorite, win the emperor's heart, then rise to empress dowager like in [REDACTED] dramas, everything will solve itself—"

As the dog system painted grandiose visions, An Ning rolled her eyes and interrupted:

"System, remember my identity before you abducted me?"

"A university student?"

"One with particularly bad luck at that. Does Host have some secret identity?"

"Exactly—a university student! Know what people online say about modern university students?"

An Ning smirked, pointing at her lovely left cheek: "Know what's written here?"

"No—'naive'!" Then she pointed to her right cheek: "And here's two more characters!"

Seeing the system's dumbfounded expression, An Ning sighed skyward: "What makes you think a peace-era university student like me could outmaneuver noblewomen raised for palace intrigue?"

Before being kidnapped by this so-called Quick Transmigration Wish-Fulfillment System, she'd been a purebred computer science major—utterly useless in ancient times. No family backing, no connections. Competing against classically trained noblewomen? Pure masochism.

Glass? Cement? Wrong major.

Smallpox vaccine? As if anyone would believe an uneducated girl raised in seclusion.

As for luck—An Ning gnashed her teeth. In her past life, an orphan who'd clawed her way to graduation from a prestigious university, she'd even won the lottery! Only to get truck-killed on her way to claim the prize.

Give back her diploma!

Give back her five million!

With luck so bad it'd make dogs weep, she hardly expected transmigration to improve things.

The only advantage was a decent golden finger—the Spirit Spring Space she'd wrested from the system could maintain health, though its detox capabilities remained untested.

But did the system think palace intrigue was just poison avoidance? How naive!

Besides... An Ning snorted while gripping her broom. Kangxi's harem wasn't easy to enter. Early reign? Maybe climb ranks through childbirth. But now in the 22nd year of Kangxi—with nine princes nearly assembled and consort positions filled—what future awaited a lowborn newcomer?

And Kangxi lived frustratingly long.

Decades of life-threatening scheming for likely zero payoff? Sharing cramped quarters with rivals? No thanks.

The risk-reward ratio simply didn't add up.

As the system continued extolling harem life's benefits, An Ning tuned it out.

Many paths existed—why hang herself on this particular crooked tree?