Chapter 1

Song Qingshi died.

After his death, he found himself in a peculiar space, where a red orb pulsed with erratic light.

The orb introduced itself as a Transmigration System from a higher dimension. It explained that a *xianxia* novel titled *Peerless Beauties* was on the verge of collapse due to readers' overwhelming resentment over the tragic fate of its protagonist, a male submissive. The world needed a soul intimately familiar with novel tropes, adept in matters of romance, and flexible enough to navigate complex situations. This soul was to mend the protagonist's body and mind, fulfilling the readers' collective wish: to alter his destiny, shower him with affection, and grant him the happiest life imaginable.

The system's transmission was fragmented, interspersed with incomprehensible alien gibberish.

In life, Song Qingshi had suffered from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. He had dedicated himself to medical studies, hoping to find a cure, spending every waking moment immersed in learning and experiments, never wasting time on novels.

Emotionally, he was a blank slate. Despite his handsome looks and docile nature, his physical condition meant even school bullies treated him with paternal protectiveness, let alone the doting girls. Under this deluge of excessive care, sympathy, and even pity, he never harbored a single romantic crush and developed mild social anxiety, fearing conversations with strangers.

He was, in short, utterly unqualified for the task.

Song Qingshi had no idea why the system had chosen him, lamenting that his studies in Marxist philosophy seemed to have been in vain. Yet, from the chaotic information and garbled code, he managed to deduce that accepting the mission would grant him a healthy body in a virtual novel world—a second chance at life.

The realization sent him into rapturous ecstasy. A healthy body was his most fervent desire. Even if the system demanded he brave mountains of blades or seas of fire, he would readily agree, let alone the seemingly simple task of caring for someone.

Thus, for the first time in his life, he swallowed his conscience and fabricated a lie: "I've read tens of thousands of books, possess a photographic memory, and am well-versed in medical and nursing knowledge. I've even taken electives in psychology, so I can resolve all the protagonist's physical and psychological traumas. Furthermore, I have extensive romantic experience, enjoy communication, and will absolutely, without a doubt, complete the mission!"

If a soul could blush, his would have burned crimson.

The system, oblivious to his deceit, confirmed his identity as the mission executor. A torrent of garbled data, mixed with chaotic and disorganized information, surged into Song Qingshi's mind, causing sharp, piercing pains in his soul.

Suddenly, the system emitted a shrill alarm. The data transmission was interrupted. Darkness enveloped Song Qingshi as his soul drifted towards a white speck of light...

...

When Song Qingshi awoke, he found himself lying in a forest, surrounded by the faint, soothing fragrance of medicinal herbs. He squinted at the dazzlingly blue sky, where a magnificent golden luan bird, trailing long tail feathers, let out a clear cry as it gracefully flew past, followed by countless other celestial birds.

Was this the world of the novel?

It felt incredibly real...

A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, shaking dewdrops onto his pale fingertips, bringing a cool sensation. Then, the original body's memories surged like a tidal wave, flooding his mind, attempting to merge with his soul. This body was also named Song Qingshi, the master of Medicine King's Valley, and the most gifted medical immortal and alchemist in the immortal realm. His medical skills could revive the dead and mend shattered bones, and the spirit elixirs he refined were treasures highly coveted by cultivators.

However, the original owner possessed an extremely eccentric temperament. He rarely left Medicine King's Valley, never made friends, and showed no interest in anything beyond medicine and alchemy. When patients sought his help, he treated them based solely on his mood, regardless of their status. In a good mood, he would heal even common beggars; in a bad mood, regardless of their rank, they would become fertilizer for his medicinal garden. He frequently experimented on live subjects, employing cruel methods. Yet, due to his Nascent Soul cultivation and mastery of various poisons, even the immortal sects dared not provoke him easily, only secretly calling him a madman behind his back.

In the immortal realm, life spans were long. The original body's centuries of cultivation knowledge and memories were still pouring in when the system's fragmented data, riddled with countless garbled codes, violently rushed in, tearing the original's memories into disarray. Song Qingshi remained bewildered for a long time before he could finally piece together his current situation.

This was Golden Phoenix Estate, the most opulent place in the immortal realm, home to rare and exotic beasts and countless beautiful immortal concubines.

The estate master, Jin Feiren, was also a powerful Nascent Soul cultivator. He was naturally flamboyant, lavish with his spending, and had friends across both the immortal and demonic paths, making him a renowned figure. Recently, he had acquired a beauty who perfectly suited his tastes and had thrown a grand banquet, inviting all like-minded connoisseurs. Rumor had it he had also prepared many newly acquired beauties as gifts, drawing a massive crowd.

The original Song Qingshi had always been aloof, solely devoted to alchemy, and never involved himself in romantic affairs. His presence today was an accident. Manor Master Jin wished to trade a ten-thousand-year snow ginseng for a batch of his elixirs. The original, currently in need of snow ginseng for his recent pharmaceutical endeavors, agreed to the exchange.

Since the snow ginseng grew in the Jin family's secret snow mountain realm, and to achieve its optimal medicinal properties, it needed to be harvested and preserved using special alchemical methods, the original had come personally to collect it, coinciding with Manor Master Jin's grand banquet. Eager to curry favor with the original, Manor Master Jin had extended countless invitations and shown immense goodwill, finally persuading the original to attend tonight's feast. Manor Master Jin was overjoyed, repeatedly offering to gift him several exquisite beauties, even mentioning some suitable as "cultivation vessels"...

And then, Song Qingshi was sent here by the system...

What was a "cultivation vessel"?

Song Qingshi searched the original's memories and found various types of alchemical cauldrons and precious tripods, but he felt something was off. After all, Manor Master Jin was a sword cultivator and shouldn't be interested in alchemy...

Attempting to consult the system yielded nothing. The transmitted data lacked the novel's plot, offered fragmented character details, and was riddled with garbled code—even the protagonist's introduction was missing. After much fumbling, Song Qingshi found only a few adjectives in the synopsis: *peerless physique, stunning beauty (bottom) X □□□□□ (top), coercion, tragic love, □□, □□, □□.* Two legible words stood out: *□玕台.*

Attempting to consult the system yielded nothing. The transmitted data lacked the novel's plot, offered fragmented character details, and was riddled with garbled code—even the protagonist's introduction was missing. After much fumbling, Song Qingshi found only a few adjectives in the synopsis: *peerless physique, stunning beauty (bottom) X □□□□□ (top), coercion, tragic love, □□, □□, □□.* Two legible words stood out: *□玕台.*

A seasoned reader of system novels would immediately recognize this situation as problematic.

Song Qingshi, however, saw nothing amiss. He believed the system was posing a challenge, testing his deductive and problem-solving abilities. Song Qingshi was accustomed to being tested; when he collaborated with his professors on new drug research, he often started with no clues, needing to explore through countless experiments, errors, and difficulties to reach a final answer—which often wasn't even the desired one.

Many pharmaceutical companies invested tens or even hundreds of billions in drug research, and scholars spent decades, their hair turning white, only for their efforts to fail clinical trials.

Therefore, every drug researcher was a battle-hardened veteran, repeatedly defeated yet always rising again.

The "test" from System-Teacher wasn't difficult!

Song the Overachiever (Song Xueba) declared he had no fear! He would surely find the correct answer! He would not disappoint his teacher's expectations!

Song Qingshi quickly extracted the key points from the "test": the protagonist would appear at the "Feast of a Thousand Beauties," he was male, homosexual, of unparalleled beauty, possessed an exquisite physique, and was a pitiful soul with a tragic fate. His mission was to rescue the protagonist, shower him with the utmost care, heal his body and mind, and then help him find happiness and joy!

In Song Qingshi's era, respecting sexual orientation was enshrined in law; same-sex marriage was legal.

He once found a novel dropped by a fujoshi classmate, titled *The Charming Prince's Little Husband*. The cover depicted a handsome, domineering ancient Chinese man embracing a long-haired beauty with a very flat chest. He was a bit confused, and when returning the book, he curiously asked about it. His classmate then explained what "danmei" (boys' love) was, and told him that the "beauty" on the cover was male, the beautiful one was the *shou* (bottom), and the domineering one was the *gong* (top). Thus, Song Qingshi was confident he could distinguish between the *gong* and *shou* in a novel and would absolutely not stray off course and rescue the protagonist *gong*.

With his problem-solving approach and direction firmly established, he merely awaited the "Feast of a Thousand Beauties" to begin.

Song Qingshi's spiritual sea gradually cleared, and his soul fully merged with the body, becoming more agile. He carefully propped himself up, then removed his shoes and lifted his feet, attempting to wiggle his toes, which had been stiff for years. Each pale, plump toe joyfully wiggled. Song Qingshi wobbled to his feet, walking a few steps with awkward, uncoordinated movements before finally recalling how a normal person walked, his movements gradually transitioning from clumsy to fluid...

Beneath his feet lay soft grass and damp earth.

Beyond the forest flowed a tranquil river. Song Qingshi stepped into the water, cupped a handful of icy cold water, and splashed it on his face, confirming he wasn't dreaming.

Tears, born of extreme joy, welled up and fell in large drops into his palms, impossible to stop. The gently rippling river surface stilled, reflecting the figure of a young man.

Song Qingshi was astonished to find that the body the system had given him closely resembled his high school self. He wasn't very tall, his physique was rather slender, and he wore layers of immortal robes woven from snowy cloud brocade, which wrapped his body tightly, layer upon layer, giving the illusion of extreme fragility.

His soft hair was simply tied up, with some stray strands falling loose. His appearance, perhaps due to cultivation, was even more refined than his original self: pale, cool skin, clear eyes. Because he often seemed lost in thought, pondering research, he had a somewhat innocent, even naive, look—a highly deceptive trait that had led many who perceived the original as harmless to become fertilizer for his medicinal garden or test subjects for his poisons.

...

After venting his emotions, he saw his tear-reddened eyes in the reflection and, feeling a bit embarrassed, quickly bent down to scoop water, intending to wash away the tear stains. But then, the faint jingle of bells and a mocking voice sounded from behind him.

"Suicide is useless; it only brings pain. If you're unwilling, you can try sinking slowly. See if it works."

Song Qingshi jumped in surprise. He turned around and beheld a breathtakingly beautiful sight he had never witnessed before.

Under a peach tree laden with blossoms stood a stunning youth in red, who had apparently been watching Song Qingshi cry foolishly for an unknown duration. The youth's beauty was extraordinary, like a richly painted scroll, depicting all the allure and charm of the world. With skin like warm jade, his most captivating feature was a pair of dark golden phoenix eyes beneath raven-like lashes. He should have resembled a noble and dignified celestial phoenix, yet beneath his left eye lay a strikingly vibrant red tear mole, desecrating his nobility, shattering his dignity, and pulling the phoenix down to the mortal realm, imbuing it with desire, transforming it into an irresistible allure that made hearts itch with longing.

His long hair was unbound, cascading casually to his waist, with slightly curled ends. He was barefoot, wearing only a red robe woven from dragonfish silk. The silk, smooth as water, clung tightly to his body, concealing everything. A single tug at the golden sash around his waist would cause it to fall away completely, revealing the scene every man dreamed of.

Song Qingshi harbored no impure thoughts, but being caught crying exacerbated his social anxiety. He mustered his courage for a long time, stammering, "I, I was just..."

His hesitation, in the eyes of the red-clad beauty, was taken as an admission.

In the immortal realm, dangerous demonic beasts and fierce birds were everywhere. Cultivators possessed spiritual energy and keen senses, easily detecting any disturbance around them. Even a minor cultivator at the Foundation Establishment stage wouldn't miss the sound of a mortal's bell-laden footsteps, let alone a Nascent Soul cultivator. If they released their divine sense, not even the movements of snakes, insects, rats, or ants on an entire mountain would escape their notice—except for an anomaly like Song Qingshi, who had just transmigrated and was utterly unfamiliar with spiritual power and worldly affairs...

The red-clad beauty completely misunderstood, assuming Song Qingshi was also a mortal. And in Golden Phoenix Estate, a mortal of such beauty had only one purpose. He spoke to confirm: "A new slave?"

Song Qingshi looked up in astonishment, not understanding his meaning. He wanted to ask, but his gaze inadvertently fell upon the red-clad beauty's body, noticing what seemed to be strange injuries. He couldn't help but curiously steal a few more glances, pondering what they were.

The red-clad beauty noticed his scrutiny and felt displeasure, a malicious thought arising. Yet, a very gentle smile appeared on his face, and he spoke with a tone of sincere blessing: "Don't look. You'll have them soon enough."

Before his transmigration, Song Qingshi had been well-protected and had never encountered malice. He didn't understand how to discern hidden meanings in words. Although he found this "blessing" a bit strange, he politely replied, "Thank you."

The red-clad beauty choked on this response. He stared blankly for a moment, then scrutinized Song Qingshi from head to toe as if he were an idiot, discovering that the person before him was utterly clean, his eyes possessing a purity that only those who had not experienced the torments of hell could have.

This discovery stirred a flicker of pity in his heart, which had been tempered by countless fires of karma. He withdrew his sharp malice and softly said, "After tonight, you will learn that death is a luxury." He turned slightly, looking at the calmly flowing river, and warned, "When I first came here, I tried to kill myself many times, but it was useless. Slaves like us, branded with the Pleasure Seal, our souls belong to our masters. As long as our master doesn't allow it, we cannot even die by our own will..."

The red-clad beauty fell silent for a long time. He slowly extended a hand and gently ruffled Song Qingshi's soft, tousled hair, which felt like that of a small animal.

Song Qingshi noticed several red marks on his pale wrists, traces of being bound. He realized this was a painful memory the other did not wish to be questioned about, so he suppressed the questions in his heart.

The red-clad beauty's fingertips slid from Song Qingshi's hair to his delicate face, lingering briefly on his bewildered expression before reluctantly withdrawing. He didn't want to say more, because before experiencing that endless nightmare firsthand, nothing he said would be of any use. Every moment of innocence preserved now was a moment of happiness. Finally, he sighed, "You are very beautiful... but the more beautiful you are, the later your deliverance will come..."

Song Qingshi was puzzled: "What do you mean by deliverance?"

"You'll know soon enough," the red-clad beauty's expression suddenly lightened. He cautiously glanced around, then extended his index finger to lightly touch his own lips, answering in a voice so faint it was almost inaudible, with an ambiguous meaning, "Tonight... is my deliverance..."

With a smile, the red-clad beauty turned, the crisp jingle of bells accompanying his departure. His steps were unsteady, each one taken with effort, as if a mermaid were painfully walking on knife blades.

Beneath the red robes, a pair of exquisite golden shackles adorned his beautiful ankles, each bearing a delicate bell, connected by a thin golden chain. As he walked, the bells gently swayed, emitting clear, melodious sounds, like those of a caged bird.

The golden chain dragged across the grass, leaving a few drops of blood that stained the verdant leaves.

Song Qingshi mustered his courage, overcoming his social anxiety, and called out to the departing beauty: "Are... are you hurt? I, I know medicine... Do you need me to help you heal?"

The red-clad beauty turned back, looked at him for several seconds, and couldn't help but smile. This time, the smile finally reached his eyes, like a ray of golden sunlight piercing through the clouds, dazzlingly beautiful. He shook his head at Song Qingshi, offering a sincere blessing: "May your luck be better tonight."

He turned his head away, the sunlight in his eyes vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared, as if it had never existed, leaving only an unyielding cloud of gloom.

Having been submerged in nightmares for years, he had long learned not to cling to others' kindness, nor to care for fleeting moments of compassion.

Alone, bearing the weight of his painful shackles, he walked step by step through his prison, never pausing again.