Chapter 0: Prologue

In Nanbo City, a funeral was held amidst a drizzle of rain.
The mournful music blended with the sound of rain, weaving a heavy, oppressive net that enveloped the entire funeral parlor.
The host, with a plain white paper flower pinned to their chest, finished reading the eulogy and bowed deeply to the grayscale portrait of a young man in the center of the hall.
“Next, let us observe a minute of silence for Mr. Lu Qingqi.”

As the words fell, everyone in attendance lowered their heads in unison.
Raindrops slanted through the open doorway, carrying a chill as they swept in, scattering a few white paper flowers in the wind. One of them landed precisely at a man’s feet.
He was dressed entirely in black, a fresh white rose pinned to his chest, its petals dotted with fine raindrops.
The man stood tall and straight, his posture rigid like a spear thrust into the ground.
His sharply defined face showed no dramatic expression, but his amethyst-like eyes churned with grief so intense it seemed ready to spill over, like a deep sea pressed down by dark clouds, every inch steeped in unyielding melancholy.
The person beside him, caught in the weight of this sorrow, instinctively softened their breathing.

The minute of silence ended, and the mournful music faded.
As the saying goes, the three greatest joys in life are promotion, wealth, and the death of a spouse.
For Liu Wangjiang, however, the three greatest joys were achieving a long-held dream, winning the heart of his beloved, and… an “love” yet to be realized.

“Wangjiang, my condolences.” After the silence, Father Lu patted his shoulder, his eyes still threaded with red.
Liu Wangjiang nodded slightly, his deep purple eyes unreadable. “Don’t worry, Uncle. I’ll take care of Qingqi’s affairs.”
No one found this statement odd.
Everyone knew that, while the Liu and Lu families weren’t exactly old friends, in this generation, Liu Wangjiang was famously protective of Lu Qingqi.
Had it not been for certain events, the two wouldn’t have gone from close friends to bitter enemies over a woman.
But… only Liu Wangjiang knew that the so-called bitterness was one-sided, and his “taking care” meant something else entirely.

The funeral ended, but the rain continued.
After offering condolences to Father and Mother Lu, Liu Wangjiang ducked into a black sedan. The engine’s hum was swallowed by the rain, and the funeral parlor and crowd outside the window blurred into indistinct dark specks.
When the black sedan pulled into the villa district, the rain had stopped completely. As the wrought-iron gate slid open, a wind chime on the eaves jingled, startling a white cat that darted into the bushes.
The iron gate slowly revealed a standalone villa hidden behind dense greenery—off-white walls paired with dark brown wooden windows, the wind chime on the eaves swaying gently, exuding a warmth that contrasted with its owner’s demeanor.

Liu Wangjiang pushed open the door, the crystal chandelier casting a glow that made his purple eyes gleam.
Without changing his shoes, he walked straight to a hidden door beside the staircase. With a soft click of fingerprint recognition, the heavy door panel slid inward.
Liu Wangjiang descended the spiral staircase, his footsteps silenced by the wool carpet.
The basement bore no trace of “dark and damp.” The walls were lined with light gray silk wallpaper, the floor covered in thick wool carpet, soundless underfoot. In the center stood a wide brocade bed, its sheets bunched up, with two heavy silver chains extending from the bed’s base, each ending in a delicate silver anklet.
The anklets were fastened around—not a person, but a girl’s ankles.

On the brocade bed, the girl curled up like a frightened bird, the silver chains on her ankles swaying lightly with her breathing, the bells at their ends occasionally tinkling faintly.
“Awake?” He stopped at the bedside, his voice softer than the rain.
The girl’s eyes snapped open, her pupils contracting. Her face was unmistakably Lu Qingqi’s, but pale as paper, her lips marked with blood from biting, her long hair messily clinging to her neck, revealing delicate collarbones.
“Liu Wangjiang… you f*cking lunatic.” She tried to shout, but her voice was as weak as a mosquito’s buzz. This was the effect of the “bitch state”—as a “bitch,” how could she rage at her master?

Liu Wangjiang leaned down, his fingertips brushing her trembling lashes. “Forgot the posture I taught you yesterday?”
The girl froze. Memories flooded back—how she’d knelt on the carpet like a pet, how he’d held her chin to feed her water, how, fully conscious, her body had performed shameful acts of submission.
“No…” She turned her face away, tears splashing onto the brocade, leaving a small wet stain. “Let me go! My girlfriend must know my death wasn’t normal. She’s so smart—she’ll investigate!”
“Girlfriend?” Liu Wangjiang laughed, the smile never reaching his eyes. He leisurely pulled out his phone. “You mean the girl who’s too busy preparing her art exhibition to even show up at your funeral?”

The moment he played the recording, her girlfriend’s cheerful voice came through: [“Brother Wangjiang, the money you lent me came through! Thanks to you, the exhibition venue is finally secured—oh, about Qingqi… ugh, I’m sad too, but the exhibition’s keeping me busy. I’ll deal with it later.”]
The girl’s face turned deathly pale, her lips trembling.
“Heard that?” Liu Wangjiang tossed the phone aside and leaned down, biting her earlobe, his warm breath laced with cruel amusement. “She’s busy using my money to chase her dreams. Where’s the time to care about a ‘dead’ ex-boyfriend?”

He raised his hand, and a virtual screen lit up between them, the countdown glaring red: [00:12:36]
“‘Bitch state’ ends in twelve minutes.” Liu Wangjiang’s fingers traced her delicate neck. “After that, shall we try a new ability? If it refreshes to ‘female fall,’ it might suit you perfectly.”
The girl struggled violently, the silver chains taut, bells jangling chaotically. But her body, as if puppeted by invisible strings, betrayed her resistance, drawing closer to Liu Wangjiang the more she fought.
“See? Even your body craves me.” Liu Wangjiang stroked her back, like soothing a bristling cat. “Stop fighting, Qingqi. Be good, and we’ll be very ‘happy.’”

When the countdown hit [00:00:00], the girl stopped struggling. Tears still fell, but her eyes were empty, as if her soul had been drained.
Liu Wangjiang kissed away her tears, his fingers grazing the silver chains on her ankles, and whispered, “Good girl.”

Outside, the sunset stained half the sky red.
No one in Nanbo City knew that Lu Qingqi, the notorious playboy, was now locked in a basement by his most hated rival, reduced to a “canary” who could only obey.

[Note: The male lead is a yandere, plotting for years, not insane but somewhat unhinged.]
[Before her transformation, the female lead had a girlfriend, but there was no contact, and there will be no contact or yuri elements! The girlfriend is a tool controlled by the male lead to… ahem, facilitate the female lead’s “female fall.”]
[On pacing: The male lead’s early goal is to turn the female lead into a woman, both physically and mentally, erasing her male pride, altering her orientation, and making her a soft, delicate girl.]
[After achieving this, the story will involve forced love, confinement, and caging.]
[Note: The male lead is skilled in psychology, with an abnormal mental state and view of love.]
[This is a gender-bender marriage story!]
[It’s… probably quite entertaining?]