Cold. A biting chill seeped up from the stone floor, piercing through her limbs and bones, jolting Li Qinghuan awake with a shudder. Her eyes snapped open.

Dusty cobwebs draped the ceiling beams above, swaying gently in the frigid draft leaking from somewhere. The air was thick with the stench of damp mildew and the acrid smell of cheap, long-extinguished coal, scratching at her throat.

Where am I?

Hadn't she just pulled an all-nighter finishing a major project, collapsing for a moment on her office desk?

The thought barely formed before a torrent of chaotic, desperate memories—filled with bitterness and resignation—slammed into her mind like a breached dam.

Li Qinghuan. Eldest Princess of the Great Tang Dynasty. Fifteen years old. Her mother, Zhao Qingrou, was the former Empress, deposed and imprisoned in the cold palace after being framed for witchcraft by the current favorite, Consort Su, who then took the throne. Soon after, her mother 'succumbed to illness.' And she, the once-pampered and cherished legitimate eldest daughter, was cast down from the clouds, branded 'intractable and unteachable,' and thrown into this dilapidated palace—Chang Le Palace? It ought to be called Chang Ku Palace—Palace of Enduring Bitterness—now.

The memories showed palace eunuchs and maids who once groveled now sneering and withholding her rightful provisions. Just yesterday, the Second Princess, Li Mingyue—born to the new Empress—'accidentally' fell and falsely accused her of pushing her. As punishment, she was forced to kneel in the snowy imperial gardens for two full hours. She returned with a raging fever, drifting in and out of consciousness…

And then, she arrived here.

Transmigration? And not just anyone, but a universally despised, tragically situated cannon-fodder villainess princess?

Li Qinghuan pushed her weak, feeble body up, managing to sit on the icy, hard plank bed. The thin blanket covering her was stiff as iron, utterly useless against the late winter's cold. She scanned her surroundings. The hall was vast and empty, holding little more than a table, a chair, and this bed. The window paper was torn, letting in relentless, whistling gusts of wind.

"Heh." A cold, mirthless laugh escaped her pale lips, tinged with self-mockery but carrying a sharper, more dangerous edge. In her previous life, she had navigated the cutthroat world of business; there was no darkness she hadn't seen. To think that after dying, she would end up in such a state.

Fine. Since heaven willed her to become this 'Li Qinghuan,' then from this day forward, she was Li Qinghuan. All the debts owed to the original owner, and to the mother she never met, she would collect them. One by one.

The moment this resolute thought solidified in her mind, a cold, utterly emotionless mechanical voice echoed abruptly in her consciousness:

[Host's intense resentment and ambition detected. Binding conditions met...]

[Villainous Fortune System activating... 10%... 50%... 100%!]

[Binding successful! Host: Li Qinghuan.]

[This system exists to assist the host in plundering Fortune, defying fate, and reaching the pinnacle! Fortune is the foundation of all things. It can be obtained by opposing or seizing it from designated targets (typically those blessed with great Fortune). Fortune Value can directly enhance the host's own luck or be converted into Villain Points to purchase anything within the System Shop.]

[Current Fortune: -99 (Storm-Clouded & Doomed).]

[Current Villain Points: 0.]

[Newcomer Gift Pack delivered. Open?]

A system?!

A sharp, calculating light ignited in Li Qinghuan's eyes! As a former avid reader of web novels, she knew exactly what this meant! Especially in this palace that devoured people without spitting out the bones!

"Open!" she commanded silently.

[Congratulations, Host, on obtaining the Newcomer Gift Pack:]

[1. Basic Attribute Enhancement (Minor improvement to Physique and Spirit).]

[2. Passive Skill: Eyes of Fortune (Able to perceive the basic Fortune color and numerical value of targets).]

[3. Villain Points * 100.]

A faint wave of warmth instantly spread through her body, driving away some of the chill. Her mind felt clearer, sharper. Simultaneously, her vision seemed to shift subtly; everything appeared more defined, and… she could vaguely see faint, multi-colored auras floating in the air around her.

She looked down at herself. Her body was enveloped in a barely perceptible, murky black glow tinged with the aura of death. Next to it was a glaring red number: [-99].

Well, damn. Negative ninety-nine. She really was on death's doorstep.

And the others in this palace?