In a small, unassuming bedroom, two people lay on the bed.
One of them was a hulking man—built like a barbarian warrior, around 6'3" tall—sleeping on his side and completely blocking the view of the person next to him.
His sun-kissed hand gently held the dainty hand of a pale woman, who looked soft and frail like a loaf of thick bread. She lay facing her husband, eyes wet with tears as she stared at his worn-out face.
Her gaze fell on his calloused palm that never let go of hers. His shoulders were always tense—ready to wake up at the smallest sound, even a single cough.
"But… I don't think I can survive through this night."
Tears spilled down silently. She didn't want to wake the man beside her.
Her thoughts were full of him—her beloved husband—who never once abandoned her.
She had been born an illegitimate daughter of one of the ruling elites—the Qin family back in the capital. Weak from the moment she entered this world.
Her health.
Her status.
Both were broken from the start.
Doctors said she wouldn't live past twenty. Her mother had died right after giving birth. The Qin family tossed her aside like trash, sending her to grow up in an orphanage. She survived on her own, sickly and frail, scraping by.
No one in the Qin family even remembered her name.
That is, until she turned eighteen.
One of the younger daughters in the family caused a scandal, and since she looked a little like her… they used her as a shield.
No choice. No say.
Her life in the capital turned into a nightmare. Eventually, she ran—ran as far away as she could—and ended up with her paternal grandparents.
Unlike the cold Qin family, they welcomed her with open arms.
They lived in a modest house in a slum, abandoned by the main family for being old and useless. Her eldest uncle, the top earner of the family, wouldn't give them a single yuan. Visits were rare—maybe once or twice a year—only to make sure they weren't asking for money.
Her second uncle visited once.
Suggested they marry her off to someone—anyone—who could take care of her.
Her grandparents, being old-school traditionalists, agreed.
And so, at nineteen, she was married off.
The matchmaker thought it'd be funny. To mock her.
She found her a husband no one would pick.
The man now sleeping beside her.
Her Shunya.
In a world where love is just a fantasy, and marriage is a transaction—a symbol of vanity—true love is something people laugh at.
They say love is just a tool for exploitation and lust.
But Shunya…
He showed her something else.
He showed her love through quiet devotion.
The kind that asks for nothing in return.
A month after their marriage, her body gave out.
She became too weak to walk, eat properly, or even talk for long.
People say the one who stays with you through your worst is your true friend.
But the one who sacrifices everything just to keep you going—
That's someone who sees you as their world.
Shunya, a random man chosen by a matchmaker, took her and her aging grandparents under his wing with a smile.
He cooked. Cleaned. Took care of her and the house.
Carried her to the bathroom when she couldn't move.
Massaged her back when the pain was unbearable.
He sold all the last remaining mementos of his late parents just to pay for her medicine.
Left his full-time job—too far away to come back daily—and started doing part-time jobs nearby to stay close.
One after another.
Day and night.
Barely enough for bills and her treatment.
And in just five years, he gave her more love than she ever thought was possible.
Devotion.
Diligence.
Patience.
But most importantly—faith.
The doctors had said she'd only have one year of married life left.
Thanks to Shunya…
She got five.
"But… I'm sorry, my love."
"I know you'd rather live your whole life alone than lose me… but I hope someone breaks through that stubbornness of yours someday."
A single tear rolled down her sunken cheek.
Slowly, her eyes closed.
Her breath stopped.
No noise. No struggle. Just quiet peace.
But instead of drifting off to some afterlife… she felt something strange.
She didn't feel her soul being pulled to heaven or hell.
She felt—alive.
From a strange first-person view, she relived a life she didn't remember living.
A life where she was born again.
Celebrated as a genius with a peak-grade spiritual root.
She felt happiness, pride, fear… pain.
She felt betrayal.
A great elder of her family stole her spirit root.
She was ambushed. Nearly killed.
She hid in the mountains, stumbled into a spatial fissure…
And found a strange, supreme, unorthodox cultivation method.
She cultivated.
She killed.
She waged war.
She created a sect, crossed dimensions, soared across realms and galaxies.
Eventually, she became a Supreme Heavenly Immortal Fairy—beyond even the heavens themselves.
But in her final tribulation… she was betrayed again.
This time, by her own disciples. Her enemies. Her rivals.
They couldn't kill her.
But she didn't want to let them have her either.
So, she chose to emulate herself—burn her own existence to ashes.
Except… she never opened her eyes again.
She was trapped.
In a strange limbo.
Forced to watch her life flash by over and over again.
The first time.
The tenth.
The twenty-fifth.
The thirty-third.
She was growing restless. Furious.
And then—
A warm, gentle voice echoed in that emptiness.
> "Yinyin."
She blinked.
She looked down.
And there she was—standing on a massive palm.
It was Shunya's.
He was holding her in his hand. Lifting her up, gently from the void
She didn't understand.
She felt confused. Scared.
"Did Shunya… heal my soul?"
"Something… not even possible in the 33 heavens?"
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[To be continued…]
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