Historical

I was the bedchamber maid of the Second Master of the Marquis’ Mansion.

I heard he was quite handsome, but incapable of performing as a man, which had only made his temper stranger by the day.

So on the day I was to attend his bed, I stewed him an enormous pot of lamb tails. “My lord, as they say, for limp-tail syndrome, you supplement form with form…”

Before I could say another word, he lifted his eyes and smiled.

“Get out.”

When I was four, a fortune-teller said I was fated to bring misfortune upon my parents. So they sent me away to a rural estate. For ten years, they never came to see me, nor did they care whether I lived or died.

At fourteen, they brought me home-so they could marry me off.

My legitimate elder sister laughed. “A fool marrying a sickly wretch. A match made in heaven.”

My parents said, “If this engagement weren’t impossible to break, and if your sister weren’t about to marry into a noble family, you wouldn’t even be worthy of carrying his shoes.”

“A married daughter is water poured out. Once you’re gone, don’t come back for anything.”

Only he held my hand and taught me to write my own name.

And then he taught me to write: “A woman, too, must respect and cherish herself, strive without ceasing, and press ever forward.”

After being reborn on my wedding night, I fed the male lead the Virtuous Wife Charm.

The world-hopping woman tried to become his concubine.

He said, “How could one man promise himself to two women?”

The world-hopping woman gave him high-yield superior seeds.

He said, “With such a divine treasure, why would my wife ever need to worry about failing in her great cause?”

The world-hopping woman broke down.

“You useless piece of trash! If this keeps up, how are you supposed to rise up and rule the world?”

He said, “My wife can dominate a region all on her own. Why would I need to rise up and rule the world?”

On the day I ascended the throne, his charm broke.

“You vile woman! How dare you usurp my legacy!” His eyes nearly split with rage.

I propped my chin on my hand. “Someone, this man has shown disrespect to Us. Kill him.”

I have a secret: eight years ago, I was married.

Originally, I planned to take that secret with me to the grave.

Then I ran into my former husband, Hang Lanque, in Shangjing.

I asked Hang Lanque, “Husband, didn’t you say you were going to the borderlands to repair city walls and earn money to buy me a hairpin?”

Hang Lanque replied, “Wife, didn’t you say you were going to the capital to dance and earn money to buy me a fine horse?”

Excellent. I am now prepared to send him to the grave along with this secret.

While everyone else was fighting for the Emperor’s favor, I built an intelligence station in the cold palace.

Until the day he died, the Emperor never knew that the woman stirring up the hidden currents of his harem was someone whose name he could not even remember.

I died in Yongxiang Alley during my third winter there.

Not truly died-only the kind of death where your name is crossed out in vermilion ink on the registry.

They said Noble Lady Li, who had once worked in the imperial garden and was later favored by His Majesty for her beauty, had gone mad.

Because on the late Empress’s memorial day, I let my hair hang loose, went barefoot, and sang a rousing rendition of “Liangzhou Ci.”

In truth, I was not mad. I had simply calculated that the Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial would pass through the imperial garden that day.

Madness was the best pass in the cold palace, and the best armor.

On the day I moved into the West Third Institute, only one lame old eunuch came to lead the way.

The weeds in the courtyard rose past my knees, and the moss on the well curb was as thick as a velvet blanket.

My roommate, Attendant Li, had been thrown in here three years ago after offending the Imperial Consort.

When she saw me arrive, she did not even lift her eyelids. She only kept rubbing a length of hemp rope in her hands, its edges worn fuzzy.

I set my only bundle down on the crumbling earthen kang.

Inside were two sets of worn palace clothes, a bald writing brush, and half a ream of yellow paper.

The paper pasted over the window lattice had a hole in it the size of a fist. The north wind poured in with a howl, carrying the faint sound of pipes and flutes from far away.

I stared at that hole, but in my heart, a sliver of light slipped through.

In a madwoman’s world, there were the fewest rules.

Here, perhaps, I could live.

“Madam, I’m planning to take a concubine.”

When Duan Qing said that, I was ironing the ceremonial robes he would wear to the palace tomorrow.

At his words, I nearly knocked over the iron brazier full of burning charcoal.

He sat there with one leg crossed over the other and went on as if it had nothing to do with me. “I’m bringing Miss Zhou into the household. A noblewoman from the former dynasty. You’ve met her.”

“Back when I followed the Emperor to fight for this empire, I lived with my head tied to my belt. Now that I’ve been made a duke, what’s wrong with taking the legitimate daughter of a marquis’s household as a concubine?”

“Old Han’s family are illiterate peasants, and even he married a girl from an earl’s household as his second wife!”

I looked at the utter entitlement on his face.

Then I took a deep breath. What was meant to come had come at last.

At thirty-eight, after spending half my life enduring hardship with him, it was time I enjoyed some peace and comfort.

And so, in the year I turned thirty-nine,

I decided to become a happy widow and savor the good life.

When the matchmaker came to propose the marriage, she said Cen Dalang (Eldest Master Cen) of the Cen family had talent, while Erlang (Second Master) had looks.

“A perfect match for your two young ladies.”

“The eldest son for the eldest daughter, the second son for the second daughter.”

“With their older brother and sister looking after them, how could the younger ones ever have a bad life?”

In my last life, things were indeed just as the matchmaker had said.

I married Dalang, and my younger sister married Erlang (Second Master).

Dalang and I spent years cleaning up mess after mess for our younger siblings.

Until Dalang died saving Erlang (Second Master).

I thought he would resent them.

But instead, he looked at my plain, unremarkable face, tears in his eyes, and sighed bitterly.

“This life was far too worthless.”

“Was I not even worthy of having a beautiful wife?”

He passed away with that regret.

It struck me like a bolt from the blue.

So all those messes he had cleaned up-he had done it willingly.

Not only for his younger brother, but for my younger sister as well.

Now, reborn into this life,

as I listened to the matchmaker say those same words,

I merely replied calmly,

“Let’s forget it. Dalang has no looks, and Erlang (Second Master) has no talent. Neither of them is a good match.”

Everyone in the capital said that a first-rank maid from the Prime Minister’s Residence was worth more than the daughter of a fifth-rank official.

As the personal maid to the prime minister’s daughter, I had followed the Fourth Young Lady since childhood, learning to read and write at her side.

I understood literature and ink, knew music, and was versed in arithmetic.

When I was nineteen, the merchant Wen Family of Qingzhou, eager to attach themselves to power, came specifically to ask for my hand-a mere maidservant’s-in marriage.

The Fourth Young Lady showed me grace, acknowledged me as her sworn younger sister, and married me off in splendor.

I had thought the inner courtyard of a merchant household would be simple. I never imagined its waters would run as deep as those of the Prime Minister’s Residence.

The Second Branch eyed the account books with envy, while the concubines banded together to put me in my place.

On the day I served tea to my elders, Concubine Zhou “accidentally” knocked over the teacup, and scalding water splashed across the hem of my newly tailored Su embroidery skirt.

I lightly brushed my fingers over the ruined twining lotus pattern on the fabric, then suddenly smiled.

Since some people insisted on throwing themselves onto the edge of a blade-

Then I would show them exactly what the methods of the Prime Minister’s Residence looked like.

By the time I transmigrated into this world, the story was already nearing its end.

The realm had been united, and the New Emperor had ascended the throne.

The woman who had shared his hardships and stayed by his side through everything had been granted a cup of poisoned wine.

And I was the Empress he was about to marry: the legitimate daughter of the Wang Clan, born of an illustrious house.

I looked at the woman who had just drunk the poisoned wine. “Do you know why I came?”

She let out a cold laugh, sweat beading across her brow. “Afraid I won’t die?”

“No.” I took a pill from my sleeve and pushed it into her mouth. “Afraid you will.”

For three years after I entered the Eastern Palace as a concubine, I had never even seen the Crown Prince.

I took it in stride. After all, I was face-blind.

If I mistook someone else for the Crown Prince and committed a capital offense, I would rather have no favor at all.

But after so long without his favor, even my food, clothing, and daily expenses became a problem.

To live a little better, I simply found three lovers to support me.

Zhang San worked in the Imperial Kitchen and could always bring me plenty of delicious food.

Li Si guarded the Garment Bureau and often sent me beautiful clothes.

As for Wang Wu, he was a skilled craftsman in the workshops. Every time we met, he gave me some clever new toy.

Lately, though, all three of them seemed short on money.

So I began thinking that I should try to please the Crown Prince and ask for some rewards to help support them.