Romance

I was the worst student in the Joyful Union Sect.

And yet the Chief Disciple of the Sword Sect claimed me as family, saying I was his long-lost little sister.

The cool, otherworldly Immortal Lord Xie said he wanted to make it up to me.

So I lied and told him I was gravely ill, and that I needed dual cultivation with him to stay alive.

Just like that, I landed the number one spot on my must-eat list.

Later, when I truly couldn’t take another bite, I had no choice but to confess:

“I’m not sick at all. I just wanted your body. But now I’m tired of sleeping with you.”

I thought Xie Lingyu would hate me to death once he learned the truth.

But when I turned around, I saw him holding a huge bag of aphrodisiacs, expressionlessly pouring them down his own throat.

“It’s all right. Now it’s Yanyan’s turn to help her big brother with his illness.”

Me: “???”

Everyone knows I am merely a stand-in for the Northern Liang Crown Prince’s true love.

To coax a smile from him, I would don his beloved’s favorite dancing silks and dance until my feet were raw with bloody blisters.

To shield him from harm, I would take an assassin’s blade without a second thought.

The Crown Prince once remarked, “In the bedchamber, she at least has some use.”

The people sneered at me: “How shameless, doing anything just to claw her way to the title of Crown Princess.”

I remained silent, as I always have.

Because-

The Crown Prince? He is a substitute, too.

The day I died of illness, the entire palace was shrouded in grief.

Only Emperor Yan Lang was not sad; he was merely a bit annoyed.

He was annoyed that half a month ago, because he wanted to invest my sister, Cui Mingshu, as Noble Consort, I had a massive argument with him and had yet to bow my head and admit my fault.

He was annoyed that the tactless officials from the Ministry of Rites were kneeling outside the hall, claiming they did not know how to determine the Empress’s posthumous title, write her biography, or arrange her burial in the imperial mausoleum.

Memorials piled up on his desk like snow on the eaves, as the hundred officials exhausted every flowery word to speculate on the Son of Heaven’s whims.

They suggested posthumous titles like ‘Virtuous,’ ‘Moral,’ ‘Gentle,’ and ‘Respectful,’ yet I was once the woman who, because someone had skimped on Yan Lang’s rations, chased that eunuch through three streets with a knife like a common shrew, cursing him the whole way.

They described my life as ‘noble and carefree,’ yet after his enthronement, he and I did nothing but argue or give each other the cold shoulder.

It seemed I was always crying-always weeping.

When it came to the matter of the imperial mausoleum, Yan Lang finally recalled a sliver of my merit.

Having been husband and wife, he was not stingy in granting me glory after death, graciously permitting me to sleep in the same tomb as him.

Before the vermilion ink of his approval for our joint burial could dry, Aunt Sun, the head maid of Jianjia Palace, was already kneeling respectfully outside the hall. She said the Empress had a final request she wished to be granted.

Yan Lang likely guessed what it was.

In all probability, she wanted to bow her head and admit her mistake, then ask for a grander posthumous title, an honorary rank, and for him to forbid Cui Mingshu from entering the palace.

“The Empress does not wish to be buried with you. “She said this life was too wretched; she never wants to see you again, neither in the blue vault of heaven nor the yellow springs of the underworld.”

I am the Empress.

The Emperor wished to take my maid as a concubine, claiming that any child she bore would be recorded under my name.

Later, the imperial physician informed me that I had been pregnant for a month.

I said to the Emperor, “In consideration of your many years without an heir, I shall have this child recorded under your name.”

When the earthquake struck, Zhou Yan instinctively shielded me with his body, ending up with multiple fractures all over.

In the hospital room, the girl next door said enviously, “Your husband risked his life to save you. He really loves you.”

I forced a smile. “Yes.”

But just last night, after I had fallen asleep,

He slipped into the bathroom and gently comforted the young girl he kept outside.

“I’m fine, don’t cry, be good.”

“As long as I think of you, I’m not afraid of anything.”

Zhou Yan and I grew up together, from each other’s first love to today-it’s been ten years.

We’re the model couple everyone praises.

No one knows he keeps a stand-in outside.

Someone who looks just like me at eighteen, when we first got together.

I found the secret crush diary of the gloomy top student.

[Today was the physics final. Rice Ball Classmate sat right in front of me. Her neck is so long and white; I really want to grab it and kiss her.]

[I dreamed about her dancing last night. Can I just lock her up and make her dance for me alone?]

[Rice Ball Classmate came to ask me a question today. Her hair kept brushing against my arm. It was so itchy I almost lost control.]

[That guy from the next class keeps coming to see her, and she actually smiles at him. I really want to dispose of his body and then lock her away.]

[I accidentally picked up Rice Ball Classmate and brought her home. I’m holding back so much I’m going crazy.]

[Saw Rice Ball Classmate eating ice cream. I’m using my mind to soul-travel into that ice cream.]

Reading this diary made my face flush and my heart race. I quickly put it back where I found it.

That top student usually looks so cold and aloof, like he has no desires. Who would have thought he was such a pervert behind closed doors?

This Rice Ball Classmate is way too pitiful.

Even after I returned to my seat, my heart was still pounding with lingering fear.

Just then, the top student, Shi Jianjin, walked over. “Meng, I bought an extra rice ball. Here, it’s for you.”

Huh?

Seeing my confused expression, Shi Jianjin casually flicked my forehead. “Don’t you always eat rice balls? Rice Ball Classmate.”

Rice Ball Classmate?

Me: ???

Vice Minister Ye and I had become bitter enemies. We were constantly at each other’s throats, neither of us willing to yield an inch.

One night, completely wasted, I even started shouting in the tavern: “Hey! Brothers! Tie up Beauty Ye and carry him to this Young Master’s room! I’m going to show him a real good time!”

In my drunken stupor, I thought I heard his hoarse voice roaring: “…You were the one who provoked me first. Why do you keep messing with me… We’re both men, what am I supposed to do…”

Men?

But I’m a girl!

I was a widow starved for a man.

While I was burning incense and praying for a good match, some villain broke into my boudoir.

I knocked him out with a vase.

Then I took a look and-oh. A beautiful man.

So I tied him up, hid him in my little courtyard, and had my way with him every day…

Later, he ran off.

When we met again, I knelt on the ground and stammered in terror, “Th-this humble woman greets His Royal Highness the Crown Prince…”

I was dating eight boyfriends at the same time.

They all treated me as a stand-in for someone else.

But I didn’t care.

As long as the money was right, they were all my precious darlings.

Later, they found out about each other.

And they absolutely lost it.

I died of a sudden asthma attack while being bullied.

My family sent my bruised and battered body straight to the incinerator; no one went to my school to demand justice for me.

Later, my brother started dating the girl who bullied me.

He turned her into the blade he would use to avenge me.