Historical

When Princess Huaying catches a lowly musician wearing her ceremonial robes, mysterious floating comments reveal that she is meant to be the vicious supporting villainess in someone else’s triumphant love story.

Refusing the fate of disgrace, exile, and death assigned to her, Huaying turns every trap against the scheming Prince of Qi and follows a buried imperial secret to the heart of a decades-old succession struggle.

Yet when rebellion finally erupts, Huaying discovers that her cleverest ally may be her formidable mother—and that surviving the story requires more than defeating its supposed heroine.

My mother was mad for her entire life.

Before she died, she left me a vast fortune and a note.

The note read: Survival Rules for a Tragic Romance.

One: Never pick up a man by the roadside, especially one who has lost his memory.

If you have already picked him up, sever all ties with him at once.

Ignore this rule at your own peril.

Two: Remember that human beings possess an organ called a mouth.

Besides eating, a mouth can also be used to speak.

When someone misunderstands you, use your mouth to explain the truth in a timely manner.

Three: There are many ways to repay a debt of gratitude.

They do not include forcing your savior into marriage, then deliberately neglecting, suppressing, and abusing her.

If any of the above occurs, flee immediately.

My father was once the best-known peddler on Qingyun Street.

He walked from lane to lane selling everything from thread to malt candy.

Then he became addicted to opium.

He sold Mother back to a brothel and stuffed my little sister and me into the baskets on his carrying pole.

The last time he shouldered that pole, the rest of our lives swung from either end.

I am a woman of boundless kindness.

So when Song Lin’an told me that the only woman he had ever loved was my elder half sister, I sent him straight to the grave without hesitation.

“My sister is dead, and since your devotion runs so deep, you should join her. No need to thank me. Nothing delights me more than helping true lovers fulfill their wishes.”

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of our betrothal.

Song Lin’an glared at me and humiliated me before everyone. “The Song family will only welcome a truly virtuous woman. We will never let a vicious shrew through our doors!”

He broke off the match and made me the laughingstock of the capital.

He also branded me a vicious woman.

Song Lin’an schemed his way into marrying my elder half sister instead.

No one wanted me after that.

On the day they returned to visit her family, Song Lin’an sneered at me. “Everyone knows what you really are now. Let us see who else you can ruin!”

I only smiled.

The fool had no idea that in our previous life, I had lived to eighty while he had dropped dead at twenty.

I knew far too many things he did not.

My elder sister disappeared when she was little, but fortune favored her: the Yong’an Marquis household took her in and raised her with every comfort.

By the time she returned to us, our mother had already arranged one marriage for her, while the marquis household had promised her to someone else.

One man was the adoptive brother who had grown up beside her; the other, her childhood betrothed.

Unable to let either go, she proposed a compromise: she would marry whichever man found the jade hairpin she hid.

The day she hid hers, however, she hid mine as well.

In my last life, Wei Heng found a hairpin first, but the one in his hand belonged to me.

The smile had barely touched his lips when her adoptive brother said coldly, “You cannot even recognize Ah Zhi’s hairpin. I suppose that leaves you no choice but to marry Ranran.”

After we married, every quarrel between my sister and her husband sent her running to Wei Heng in tears.

His heart ached for her, and his old regret never faded.

“If you had married me,” he would murmur, “I would never have made you cry. Not even once.”

I found them together beneath the moon, composing poems, and side by side among the spring blossoms.

Whenever I showed the slightest displeasure, Wei Heng called me jealous and narrow-minded, saying I could never match my sister’s poetry or painting.

Now I had returned to the day Wei Heng picked up my hairpin.

I held out my hand.

“Young Master Wei, Mother is already considering matches for me. Please return my hairpin.”

My parents had always told me that the less I spoke, the fewer mistakes I would make, so I became a girl of few words.

At the same time, they adored my older cousin’s bright, gracious manner and told me to imitate her in everything.

They loved her so much that when she refused to marry her impoverished fiancé, they did not hesitate to offer me in her place.

Smiling obsequiously at my uncle, my parents assured him, “Han’er is willing to help her sister out of this difficulty.”

My uncle stared at me in surprise and asked, “Han’er, are you truly willing?”

My parents frantically signaled for me to answer.

I nodded and gave them what they wanted.

“I am.”

Relief washed over their faces.

With no expectations of them left to lose, I finally spoke from the heart.

“Anywhere would be better than staying with a pair of fawning, spineless, shamelessly biased parents.”

Everyone in the capital envies He Jingyao, the only wife of the powerful Chief Minister Shen. Yet she alone knows that her distant husband has filled a treasured sandalwood box with love letters to her elder sister.

When death sends Jingyao back to the day Shen Yanchu first proposed, she returns his betrothal jade and refuses to repeat their loveless marriage. But Shen has also returned with memories of their first life—and this time, he begs her not to leave him.

Caught between a calculating sister who sees marriage as a political bargain and a remorseful man who understood his heart too late, Jingyao walks away from the capital. In the freedom of Quliang City, she finally meets the love that had been waiting for her all along.

Twenty years have passed since I entered the palace.

I accompanied my mistress as she rose from a deposed consort to the exalted position of Empress Dowager.

I, too, rose from an unnoticed little palace maid to Auntie Lian, a woman even His Majesty addressed with respect.

I have done many wicked things.

When Lady Wang became pregnant, I caused her to fall into the water and lose her child.

When the Noble Consort refused to follow the late emperor into death, I strangled her with my own hands.

Only as I lay dying did I let out a quiet sigh.

“In the end, good is rewarded with good, and evil with evil.”

While I lay unconscious after giving birth, my husband’s cousin swapped her daughter for mine.

The moment she fell asleep, I switched them back.

From then on, she tormented her own daughter every day while lavishing all her love on mine.

I watched with tears in my eyes—what a tragedy.

Served her right.

Mama had entered the household as the Princess’s dowry maid, only to be raped by the heir apparent.

When the Princess rushed back, she caught him in the act.

Yet the moment he had pulled up his trousers, he denied everything and insisted that Mama had deliberately seduced him.

The Princess slapped him across the face. “Too much of a coward to own what you did, and you still dare play games with this princess?”

That very night, the heir was secretly castrated.

The Princess decided he still had a passable face and sent him into the palace.

Mama, meanwhile, became the second lady of the residence.