The Strong Female Lead Versus The Most Miserable Male Lead

Fu Yunhe, who lay below organizing his memories, finally understood his situation.

Orphan... Sickly... Newlywed... Dead.

But what had he just heard? A woman? A widow?

Was he a woman? He quietly moved one hand, relieved, he was a man.

Struggling, he "hmm" twice weakly, a faint voice arose.

"I... am a man, not dead."

Nian Shutong glanced down briefly, scrutinizing him—an actual man?

Eyebrows like paintings, skin smooth as cream, small rosebud lips, willowy waist, even his hands had slender fingers.

Nian Shutong then glanced at her hands—dark, rough, dry, peeling, and dull.

One leaf heralds autumn, one hand reveals the face.

Forget it, being ugly or not, it's not important.

Nian Shutong squatted down, her dark hand resting on Fu Yunhe's pulse, she spoke matter-of-factly:

"You... are likely not going to survive the night."

Fu Yunhe's breathing, already hurried, became even more so. Why wouldn't he survive the night?

"I'm fine!"

Nian Shutong, looking at the somewhat disbelieving Fu Yunhe, continued:

"We are husband and wife, how can you distrust me like this? Rest assured, if you die, I won't remarry."

Fu Yunhe was speechless—who the hell cared about her remarrying! He didn't want to die.

No, he wouldn't die.

Fu Yunhe, on the ground quickly driven by patterns to his death, found strength from somewhere within him and managed to stand up.

He grabbed Nian Shutong's arm for leverage, gritting his teeth as he forced out a few words.

"I... will not... die."

Nian Shutong looked helplessly at Fu Yunhe, what a stubborn beauty!

She looked around regretfully and said, "He's quite determined, maybe he really can make it through the night."

"Since that's the case, let's stay with the Nian Family to recuperate."

"If you get better, it's your good fortune; if you die, it's on me."

Everyone around, including Fu Yunhe, stared at Nian Shutong.

The crowd thought: The Nian Family's known waste, could she really be so eloquent?

Fu Yunhe: Why on earth is my life up to you!

Nian Shutong did not care about everyone's looks—a poison cultivator like her, there was nothing she dared not do if she wished to.

These were the most indirect words she had ever spoken.

If not for her lack of strength, why would she bother saying these polished, beautified words?

She put aside this topic for the moment and looked around: grey columns with dark patterns, a deep red roof, open on all sides, without walls.

This was a corridor of the Nian Family; this wedding was so casual, separated by just one wall from the main street.

Huh?

What's that?

Nian Shutong casually pushed past a short-haired woman in front of her, who tried to stop her but was held back by another man beside her.

"Don't bother her, I've notified the Housekeeper, he will be here soon."

"Really doesn't know her own good, still wanting to cling to the Nian Family."

The three of them could see something different about Nian Shutong, but they took it as her tactic to stay with the Nian Family.

Nobody would want to become a Planet Master of a "Wasted Planet," the lowest existence, also the quickest to die.

Nian Shutong, who had pushed people aside, moved to the edge of the corridor, where there was a half-meter-high stone flower bed, filled with white flowers.

Deep green leaves, with one or two white flowers standing against the wind above.

Nian Shutong, not one to love and cherish plants, extended a finger to lightly touch the petals of a white flower.

A route practiced countless times moved sluggishly within her, slightly obtuse, but the shattered Magic Treasure in her Divine Sense began to absorb energy.

Just as suspected.

These white flowers... were poisonous.

Nian Shutong withdrew her finger, confirming her suspicions; she'd talk about it later. As long as there was poison, she was fearless.

"Ding! Host has discovered a superior species, potato. Farming System activation in progress..."

Potato? White flowers?

"Nian Shutong, it's time for you to leave."

Nian Shutong had not yet figured out the connection between the two when an authoritative, middle-aged voice arrived.

She paused in thought, looking toward the newcomer.

The man was middle-aged, clean-shaven, dignified, his eyes calm.

He was the Housekeeper of the Nian Family, the Family Head's most trusted assistant, just below one, above tens of thousands.

"Alright," Nian Shutong didn't fuss, leaving was indeed the best choice.

"I want money."

The Housekeeper didn't even change his gaze, simply stating, "You should leave."

Nian Shutong shook her head smiling, seeing that they regarded her as a waste, unworthy to negotiate terms.

She walked with the slow gait of an old man to the side of the pretty yet sickly Fu Yunhe.

Grabbing him, she said, "Since the Housekeeper is so reluctant to let us go, let's stay."

"When the pretty boy dies, I'll buy him a coffin, place it at the Nian Family's door, and perform a widow's lamentation, to express my grief."