Psychological

When the Imperial Astrologer declares twin princesses an ill omen, one of them must be sent to the brutal frontier.

In their first life, Princess Jinghua remains in the palace, only to be poisoned by her embittered sister.

Reborn together, her sister seizes the chance to stay, certain that Jinghua will suffer in her place.

Instead, Jinghua grows into a formidable warrior and strategist while her sister’s stolen palace life collapses around her.

With Great Zhou weakened by betrayal and Jiang’s monstrous emperor demanding a bride, Jinghua transforms a marriage procession into an army—and sets her sights on the throne itself.

After fifteen years of marriage, Meng Ye had taken a mistress-a flamboyant young woman he kept on the side.

Cradling her pregnant belly, she stormed into my presence to demand a formal title.

“You’re a fading beauty with one foot in the grave, and you haven’t even produced a son to see you off. What right do you have to cling to the position of Madam?”

Amused, I looked past her at Meng Ye and asked, “Well? You tell her. What right do I have?”

He didn’t dare answer. He knew that if I, a Tiger Woman of a General’s Family, ever lost my temper, his little girl wouldn’t even dare to cry out loud.

Ren Suixi sells herself into a wife-leasing contract to save her wounded husband, only to be claimed months later as the chancellor’s long-lost daughter.

Her return pulls her into a web of family devotion, imperial cruelty, war, and sacrifices made by men and women with nowhere else to turn.

As dynasties and households collapse around her, Suixi must decide what home, kinship, and a life of her own truly mean.

Not long after I married the crown prince, he was deposed.

We spent ten years imprisoned together in a derelict garden.

I tilled the soil and planted vegetables, doing everything I could to stay alive.

Half out of his mind, he kicked my vegetables to pieces, muttering, “Thank goodness it isn’t Qianyi locked up in here.”

Qianyi was the cousin who had come to live with my family.

She was now Prince Cheng’s consort.

I had never known the deposed crown prince had feelings for her.

His ravings made a mockery of the ten years I had spent at his side.

Later, Prince Cheng ascended the throne and issued two decrees.

One sentenced the deposed crown prince to death by poisoned wine.

The other sent me to cultivate the Way in a Taoist temple.

I became Master Taihui of Purple Cloud Temple.

Less than two years later, I became the new emperor’s Consort Yu.

People sneered at my wiles, saying I had bewitched the emperor so thoroughly that he neglected even his lawful wife.

My cousin demanded bitterly to know why I had stolen her husband, why I had not followed the deposed crown prince to the grave.

The new emperor hated me too.

He hated me because, years before, I had seen him wounded and left him there to attend the consort selection.

His grave injuries had failed to heal.

He had lost his chance and spent years scheming before he finally won the throne.

Yet later, when a deadly poison left me confined to my sickbed, he cast aside his entire harem and used blood drawn from his own heart to save me.

As I lay dying, he held me and wept in anguish.

“As long as you live, I’ll agree to anything.”

“I’ll make you empress.”

“I’ll let your parents come back to the capital.”

“Your brother, your sister-in-law, your nephew—all of them.”

“Only live.”

Tears blurred my sight.

I did not even have the strength to cry.

Too late.

Why couldn’t he have granted my wish sooner?

Why had he made my whole life so miserable?

Then I was given another life.

Mother told me joyfully that the empress had specifically summoned me to the consort-selection banquet.

I looked at my cousin, who could hardly contain her eagerness, then lowered my eyes and said softly, “I don’t want to go.”

In the third year of Jiang Yan’s affair, I met a fresh-faced college boy.

He wore a white T-shirt and faded jeans.

His brows held a rebellious slant, his thin lips were pressed together, and his fringe fell a little too long over his eyes.

He bore more than a passing resemblance to Jiang Yan when he was young.

My car had broken down halfway to my destination.

He haggled me up to five hundred yuan and promised he could fix it.

Halfway through the repair, he took a call.

It seemed to be the hospital chasing him for payment.

He held the phone in silence for a long time before pleading in a low voice, “I’m doing everything I can to raise the money.”

“I promise I’ll have it all by the day of the surgery.”

“Please.”

“Just give me a little more time, okay?”

Standing beside him, I suddenly remembered the day I first learned Jiang Yan had been unfaithful.

He had sat slumped on the sofa with his face in his hands.

“Xiuxiu, I swear I never meant for this to happen,” he rasped.

“But she looks so much like you did when you were young.”

“Do you understand?”

“Whenever I look at her, I remember how much you suffered back then—and how powerless I was to help you.”

“I have the means now.”

“I want to help her.”

“I want to give the younger you the care I couldn’t give you the first time.”

“Please don’t blame me.”

At that moment, I suddenly stopped blaming Jiang Yan.

Because at last, I understood him.

The day Grandpa’s legs were crushed, I knelt on the ground, kowtowing as I heard the thoughts of the people around me.

[The heroine is so pitiful. Shouldn’t we help her?]

[No! If we help her, how is Song Hansheng supposed to make his entrance? He’s my favorite male lead in a redemption romance!]

[Shen Song is the heroine’s true love!]

[Nonsense! The heroine is the wife I picked for my darling Jiang Yanbei!]

Later, those male leads really did enter my life, one after another.

They loved me, saved me, fought over me, and tried to force me into their arms…

But I hated this world, and I had no need to be saved.

My goal was to kill the male leads.

At our wedding, I whispered something in my husband’s ear.

Upon hearing it, he suffered a total breakdown and leaped to his death right then and there.

After he died, countless people-including the police-asked me what I had said.

I remained silent.

Five years later, while I was living in poverty, someone tracked me down. They offered a massive reward, wanting to buy those words from me.

He wanted to know exactly what kind of sentence could kill a man.

In that moment, I was overcome with excitement.

The person I had been waiting for had finally arrived.

In a year of famine, I sold myself to a brothel for the sake of my family.

My little sister came to see me with dried melons and vegetables on her back.

One patron had a taste for very young girls, and the madam tried to tempt her.

My sister believed every word and refused to leave: she wanted silk every day and fish and meat at every meal.

I said no, took out the silver I had secretly saved, and asked a man from our village to escort her home.

After that, not a single letter came from my family.

Five years later, when my beauty had begun to fade, I persuaded a cloth merchant to redeem me and make me stepmother to his two children.

Then my sister returned.

We looked seven or eight parts alike, but she was alluring and uninhibited, far more so than my dull, quiet self; within three days of raising her banner, men crowded the door.

The cloth merchant hired a sedan chair to collect me, and my sister crooked one beguiling finger at him.

He hesitated for only a moment before laying the silver meant for my freedom at her feet.

I went on a celebrity dating reality show, and the host asked me which male guest I would pick.

Smiling, I looked toward the acclaimed Best Actor, the veteran singer, and the current young idol heartthrob.

“Among these guests is a serial killer. Three years ago, you dismembered my little sister.

You left no remains of her behind and turned her into a target for the internet’s scorn.

“Now, it’s my turn to hunt you down.”

After announcing his marriage at a concert, the top-tier singer suddenly broke down in tears.

It was because he had just received news of my death.

Zhou Yan. We met at six and said our goodbyes at twenty-four.

I never had the courage to tell you that I truly, deeply loved you.