"Slap!"

A slap across her face stirred Mu Nanchu to consciousness.

Opening her eyes, she was met with the icy gaze of Song Mingxuan.

"Mu Nanchu, you simply aren't worthy of me. Only Yun Yao inhabits my heart. She is ten thousand times better than you, and you can't even compare to a single hair of hers!”

"Yun Yao treated you like her biological younger sister, but behind her back, you lured me to a hotel, you're shameless!"

"Even if you exhaust all your efforts, I will never be interested in you. Dismiss that thought!"

His every word was laden with barbs, his gaze filled with disdain and apathy.

Mu Nanchu frowned.

A surge of unfamiliar memories rushed into her mind.

She had time-traveled!

She had become the second young miss of the Mu Family in Pingcheng.

The original host shared her name, a daughter who received no favor in her family.

And this man before her, spouting out harsh words, was her fiancé, Song Mingxuan.

Their marriage was arranged by the Song family patriarch, who, back in the days, had said that if Madame Mu bore a daughter, she would be betrothed to his grandson, Song Mingxuan.

As a result, when the original host was born, her mother died in childbirth and Mu Zetao, her father, had her live away in the countryside for eighteen long years, only returning home last year.

The current state of her mother's family, Ning's family, had been dilapidated. Hence, the Song family was indecisive about this marriage alliance.

The original owner fell in love with Song Mingxuan at first sight; however, in his eyes, there was only her sister, Mu Yunyao.

Mu Nanchu gathered her thoughts, regaining her senses.

With a cold look, she retaliated with a slap, hitting back fiercely.

"Smack!"

Song Mingxuan was dumbfounded by the slap.

"Mu Nanchu, how dare you hit me? Who gave you the nerve?"

He was staring at her fixedly, as if he understood something, and swiftly grabbed her wrist.

"Heh, playing hard to get, huh? Stop daydreaming. Such a despicable trick will only make me despise you more."

Mu Nanchu coldly stared at the arrogant man before her, without uttering a word, she retaliated with a brutal kick to his groin.

"Ouch!"

A shrill scream was heard, Song Mingxuan instantly rolled off her, clutching his lower half, grinning in pain, and his entire face was twisted.

"Are you freaking crazy?" He was convulsing in pain.

Mu Nanchu calmly stood up, lightly dusting off the creases on her skirt, a hint of mockery at the corner of her mouth: "Playing hard to get? Are you worth it?"

Having said that, she left the room without looking back.

The corridor was silent, and Mu Nanchu was looking around as she walked.

The hotel's décor was full of Western charm, with several works from master Western painters hanging on the walls.

Suddenly, a painting caught her attention, and she stopped to gaze at it for quite some time.

It was a famous piece by Erik, ‘The Female Fortune Teller’.

The scene depicted in the painting was a dimly lit old room, where an Eastern woman, dressed in a traditional Western noblewoman’s garb, sat sideways at a table.

There was a candle burning on the table, and in her slender hands, she held a mysterious fortune-telling card.

The dim lighting made the woman's features vague, casting a hazy ambiance over the entire painting, giving it an added mystic feel that compelled reverence.

Mu Nanchu knew that this painting was merely a replica, the original was stored in the Louvre in Xiapo.

The introduction on the wall indicated that the artist Erik was born in 1579 and passed away in 1658.

Staring at the woman in the painting, a faint smile appeared on Mu Nanchu's lips.

So many years had passed, she didn't expect to encounter her own portrait here. The woman in the painting was none other than herself, from a few centuries ago.

Nobody had fair expectations of Erik who was obsessed with painting, people claimed he was mentally unstable, but she understood him best.

He wasn't mad, he was just too engrossed in his art, as if he was immersed in another world.

Some say that all geniuses are eccentric and destined to live lonely lives.

She was glad that she could be the confidant of this eccentric genius.

Suddenly, a rush of hurried footsteps interrupted her thoughts.

Looking up, two stalwart middle-aged men stared at her with lecherous eyes.

"Little girl, it's quite dangerous to be out this late. How about we keep you company?"

"My place isn't far from here. Let's go have some fun."

The man who was speaking had no qualms eyeballing her, his gaze ravished up and down her exposed collarbone and fair-skinned arms, oozing with lustful intentions.

He swallowed hard, and reached out his rough paw, heading straight for her waist.

Mu Nan's eyes turned icy.

Just as the offending hand was about to touch her, she swiftly grabbed his neck, swung up her leg, and kicked him hard, launching him far away.

Since reincarnating into this body, she realized her strength had greatly diminished, possibly to less than a tenth of her previous power.

However, dealing with these two losers was absolutely within her capabilities.

This scenario completely took the two burly men by surprise. They did not expect to encounter a martial arts practitioner.

The man who was kicked away felt utterly humiliated, climbing up indignantly with rage.

"You little bitch, do you know who I am? Be smart and come with me, or you're in for a world of trouble in Ping city!"

"If I don't teach you a lesson today, I'll write my name backward!"

Mu Nan snorted derisively, "Rest assured, I will make sure to fulfill that latter wish of yours."

"Looking for trouble, are you? Just wait and see how I teach you a lesson!"

A group of local ruffians surrounded Mu Nan Chu. The ring leader wore a sleazy expression and had his fists clenched, ready to charge at her, while the others looked eager to join in.

Around the corner of the corridor, there stood two people.

One of them, a sunnily handsome young man, couldn’t help but observe the scene before him.

"This poor girl is in a pickle."

Next to the young man stood another tall figure.

The man stood tall and lean, his demeanor aloof. He leaned against a wall lazily, his beauty rivaling an exquisitely carved work of art by God himself.

He held a cigarette between his slender, well-defined fingers, the smoke curling around him. His deep eyes carried a hint of nonchalance as well as a touch of weariness.

His gaze, profound and cool, glanced at the girl over there.

She was young, in a red spaghetti strap dress that contrasted strikingly with her glowing white skin, her sexy collarbone and long neck exceptionally captivating.

His eyes fell on the torn hem of her dress, where he could faintly see her white thigh. Her skin was as white as snow, as if crafted from jade and ice.