Savvy Son-in-law

"Vivian Yu, do you even know what youve done wrong!"

A loud male roar, mixed with the pain of a whip hitting her back, jolted Vivian awake.

She opened her eyes, ready to curse whoever dared to touch her, but was immediately stunned by the sight before her.

This was an ancient-style room, with a row of red candles brightly lit, people in ancient costumes kneeling on both sides, red curtains hanging from the beams, and the middle bead curtain swaying with the wind of the whip.

The ground was littered with cups and plates, wine cups scattered everywhere, the room filled with the smell of alcohol, like a mess after a feast.

Ten steps away from her, two men with painted eyebrows and revealing clothes were kneeling, trembling and begging for mercy.

Vivian was confused. Where was she?

Hadnt she been in a car accident?

Before she could ask, the old man in front of her seemed displeased with her attitude and was about to swing the whip again.

Vivian, no longer able to discern the situation, wasnt about to foolishly take another hit. Just as she was about to dodge, a figure suddenly enveloped her in his arms, taking the hit for her.

A very soft groan sounded by her ear. Vivian looked up and saw the mans face.

He was a young man, bright like jade, elegant like a pine.

The candlelight illuminated his skin, slightly pale as if lacking blood, but this did not detract from the elegance in his features. On the contrary, it made his eyebrows look like they were painted with ink, his gaze clear and bright, so clear that one could distinctly see the fleeting disgust in his eyes...

If he despised her, why did he protect her?

Vivian pushed him away, "You..."

She wanted to ask who he was, but was interrupted again by the old man, "Zee, get up, why are you still protecting her?"

Zee?

Why did that name sound so familiar?

The man called Zee also let go of her, turned around, and knelt upright, his attitude sincere, "Father-in-law, please calm down. The princess is young and may have acted impulsively, not intentionally. Please give her another chance to correct her mistakes."

The old man was clearly very angry, the whip in his hand whistling as he swung it, "Young? Shes already seventeen this year. Others her age are already virtuous, managing the household and supporting their husbands, but she dares to be so outrageous!"

"Being disobedient is one thing, but today she actually dared, dared to..."

The words "summoning a male prostitute" were too shameful for a father to say, and he was so angry that his face turned red, "In any case, get up and stop protecting her. Today, I must teach her a lesson."

Alex Zee didnt get up, still pleading for her.

As the two argued, Vivians brow twitched incessantly.

Princess, Zee, Father-in-law...

Werent these the characters from the male-centric harem novel "The First Prime Minister" she had read on a whim a few days ago?

Suddenly, a flood of images sprang into her mind, memories as if forcibly loaded, chaotic but still allowing Vivian to quickly piece together the current situation from the fragmented clues.

She had crossed over into a book, becoming the (underdog) former wife, Princess Vivian, who always looked down on the male protagonist.

This book was one of those old clich茅s, mainly about a fallen familys male protagonist who endures bullying, grits his teeth and works hard in secret, and finally passes the imperial examination with top honors.

But before he could even begin to feel proud, he was framed for plagiarism, not only losing his title but also falling into prison. At this point, he met the second benefactor of his life, Duke Wei.

Duke Weis purpose for saving him was singular: he hoped that after the male protagonist cleared his name, he would marry his own daughter, whose reputation was already tarnished.

How tarnished was she? Visiting brothels, summoning male prostitutes, listening to music and watching plays, teasing decent young men鈥攕he had done everything that could be done and more.

The male protagonist was set up to take the fall.

In the early stages, the male protagonist was still a naive flower, grateful for the help and obediently taking on the blame, but he couldnt help but be annoyed by the daughters "hands-on" approach.

When she was happy, she would slap him; when she was unhappy, she would beat him, effectively erasing any gratitude he had.