[A clear-headed, lazy little sunshine vs. a yandere, psychotic black lotus] Jiang Yu, a freshman in college, died suddenly after staying up late; when she opened her eyes she’d been transmigrated into the cultivation world of Fengyun City as a self-destructive supporting female. Destined in the original to be the young city miss who would have the tendons in her hands and feet cut and be made into a human-skin lantern by the villain. At the opening she’s standing on a cliff, and before her is the book’s crazed, blackened villainous junior disciple Shen Anzhi, who’s slaughtered both sects, he looks at her coldly: “Jump, or shall I see you off?” He was born with the Sacred Yin immortal constitution, perfect for dual cultivation, his blood and flesh are medicinal. Ten years later, after his identity is exposed and he’s framed and hunted, he goes dark, topples both righteous and villainous paths, and revels in slaughter. The original character bullied and humiliated him early on; later he skinned her alive and turned her into a lantern, her death was tragic. [Original mission issued: Romance Shen Anzhi and stop him from destroying the world.] Jiang Yu looked at the boy who could kill her in a single move and forced a smile: “Shen Anzhi, Senior Sister will take care of you from now on.” So everyone watched, When his backlash flared and he curled up in cold sweat in a corner, she was the first to hold him: “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” When he was falsely accused of stealing a spirit artifact, she publicly slapped the accusers and tore into the scumbags: “Whoever dares lay a hand on him! I won’t spare them. Doesn’t everyone know Fengyun City’s treasury is at his disposal?” Later, Shen Anzhi grew fond of gently stroking her hair, and she willingly let him. He said he didn’t know what it felt like to be mutually in love; she hooked a finger into his robe and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Madness pressed behind his eyes as he asked her, “Is your tenderness reserved only for me?” She leaned in, soothing him with a smile: “Of course, only for you.” She thought her mission was accomplished; she drank the wedding wine he handed her, planning to bow out. When she opened her eyes again, it was three years later. The demon realm had reopened, and the boy of old had become the Demon Lord who ruled the world. In a torrential downpour his robes were stained with blood; his fingertip wound around a lock of her dark hair, his voice hoarse: “Senior Sister, did you know I tasted the dirt on your grave one thousand and ninety-five times… only to learn you were never dead.” With a heart-binding thread piercing flesh, he locked her in his arms, his palm over her beating heart: “This time you can’t escape.” She had planned to be a salted fish, finish the mission and go home, but unexpectedly got tangled with a madman, locked hearts each night, dual cultivation each day.