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Reborn as the Crippled King's Beloved

Murong Jiu, the Ninth Young Miss of the Marquis Mansion, was ugly and talentless, and her fate was to harm her relatives. She was raised in the countryside from a young age. Due to her exceptional medical skills, she was used by the Crown Prince, who drained her of all her value and then threw her into a deep well to drown. Only before her death did she realize she had been switched at birth. Others were rightfully enjoying everything that should have been hers; later, all her family died for her, becoming stepping stones for the Crown Prince! Reincarnated, she returned like a vengeful ghost from hell, making her enemies tremble with fear, ready to seek revenge for each grievance. Unexpectedly, she unintentionally became the darling of her biological family, which made her retract her sharp edges. As the substitute Princess Consort of Prince Ling, she and Prince Ling were a fake couple, intent only on finding the real father of the child in her womb, yet unaware that the man from that night was right in front of her…

Qing Shanshan · 歴史
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217 Chs

Chapter 134: The Mastermind Behind Nanny Fan

"Young lady, don't worry. The gatekeeper is very perceptive; he won't deliver the letter while the Third Young Master is still here. It's a good thing that the Third Young Master is fond of you, as it shows they are not suspicious. The closer you are, the more dowry you will receive when you get married!"

Nanny Fan consoled her.

The main issue was, she had no excuse to lure the Third Young Master away.

But Fu Baozhu was worried; Na Kesi couldn't stay in the Capital City for too long and would have to return to the Western Regions soon.

Since she had already chosen this path, she must follow Na Kesi back to the Western Regions.

Ever since Murong Jiu revealed her stunning beauty and the birthmark disappeared, Fu Baozhu kept dreaming of the portrait in her father's study that bore some resemblance to Murong Jiu.

The true identities of her and Murong Jiu hung over her like a sword of Damocles, never knowing when it might fall.