Young Master's Fierce Wife

The powerful Bulwark Duke's family collapsed overnight. On what should have been a happy wedding day, every man in the household was thrown in prison. Within three days, both the duke and the family patriarch were dead. The celebration turned into a funeral before anyone had time to blink.

Shen Yijia had transmigrated right into the middle of this mess — as the unlucky bride. And when her new husband was finally sent home to her, he was barely alive, broken and heavily wounded. Everyone wrote them off. This family was finished, they said. No coming back from this.

But Shen Yijia wasn't ready to give up. Using a special spirit liquid she carried, she pulled her husband back from the edge of death. When Song Jingchen finally opened his eyes, the first thing he did was tell her to leave him and find someone better.

She looked at his face, thought about it for a second, and said: "Nope. I'm keeping you."

The road back to their hometown was anything but peaceful — bandits, assassins, ambushes. Every time danger showed up, Shen Yijia put herself right in front of it. "Don't worry," she told her husband. "I'll protect you."

Of course, the nosy crowd had plenty of opinions. A proper wife should be gentle, obedient, and know her place — shouldn't she even help her husband find a concubine? Shen Yijia had zero patience for that nonsense. She was a modern woman at heart. Her husband was hers, full stop.

To keep them afloat, she hunted in the mountains, dealt with scumbags who got in her way, and even took on disciples. Slowly but surely, life started to turn around.

Years later, they returned to the capital. Everyone assumed Song Jingchen must be tired of his rough-and-tumble wife by now — surely a divorce was coming. The young noblewomen were practically lining up, just waiting for Shen Yijia to be out of the picture.

They waited. And waited.

What they got instead was Song Jingchen — right after his wife had just finished beating someone up — gently taking her hands in his and asking softly, "Does it hurt?"