Slice of Life

On my first day in the palace, I told my own fortune.

A west wind slipped along the foot of the wall, lifting three dead leaves.

Two fell into the gutter; one landed on my shoe.

I studied that leaf for a long while and reached a conclusion: Don’t compete.

Stay alive.

Excellent.

I decided on the spot that, from that day forward, I would be a layabout with principles.

I was drunk.

Out of habit, I sent my ex-husband my location.

“Come get me.”

He replied at once.

“Remember?

We’re divorced.”

“You were the one who asked for it.”

“What, you still want to order me around like a dog?”

I was about to reply when comments started scrolling past: “Is the supporting girl nuts?

Why interrupt the male lead’s date now?”

“If it weren’t for her, he would’ve kissed the female lead already!”

“AAAAAAH, I HATE HER!”

I hurriedly texted him, “Wrong person.”

Ten minutes later, he arrived.

With a woman I’d never seen before.

On my first day in the Duke of Liang’s household, my stepdaughter threw her ceremonial tea onto the floor, and my stepson threatened to have me cast out.

I drenched her with a teapot and took a ruler to his hand.

When their father asked what had happened, I told him I was merely teaching the children our household’s rules.

Everyone says a stepmother’s lot is hard.

But this household would recognize only one mistress: me.

I came second in the imperial examinations.

The first-place winner was the sort of swaggering hero who conquered everything in his path.

He spent his days drinking, writing poetry, and visiting brothels.

The third-place winner was the hero of an erotic novel.

He spent his days sleeping with princes and generals.

Once I became a censor, I worked overtime every day impeaching the two of them, until my face turned sallow and my eyes were ringed with blue.

Then I checked my pay at the end of the month: ten taels of silver.

Furious, I threw down my memorials, picked up my brush, and started a side business: Episode One: “The Third-Place Scholar Charms in Women’s Clothes; the First-Place Scholar Spends a Fortune for His Smile.”

I won my husband, Yang Dongye, with thirty wontons.

His family had fallen on hard times, and I was a notorious old maid: plain, fiery-tempered, and perfectly capable of keeping a household standing.

He wanted someone capable; I wanted someone young and handsome.

After several happy years, his family was exonerated—and his former fiancée came running from the capital.

Ji Yan’s first love hit me with her car.

When she called him, he rushed to the hospital.

His expression faltered slightly when he saw me.

After he and his first love accompanied me through the examinations, he asked how much the medical bills were.

For three years, we had kept our marriage a secret.

Even when I miscarried, he had never come to see me in the hospital.

This was the first time he had ever accompanied me to a medical appointment.

When the nurse told me to have my husband look after me, I switched off my phone.

That would not really work.

We were in the process of getting divorced.

On the day I ascended the throne, I discovered that I could hear objects speak.

The Dragon Throne was a chatterbox, and a scalding bowl from the imperial kitchens screamed in my hands.

When I dropped it, only I could hear the shattered pieces lamenting their fate.

I’ve always been absurdly confident.

When the system told me to win over the male lead, I said it would be a piece of cake.

He rejected me, begged me to torment someone else, and claimed he wasn’t good enough for me.

Clearly, he needed a guiding partner he couldn’t chase away.

I succeeded—until the system returned and announced his affection score was zero.

Apparently, I’d fallen for an extra with the male lead’s exact same name.

[Experienced Heroine, Virgin Hero | Marriage Before Love]

A gentle noblewoman fallen on hard times vs. a cold, aloof, and powerful court official

Ji Hanyi’s family fell into ruin when she was fourteen. At sixteen, she arrived at the prestigious Xie Family with a marriage contract and married into their household.

Throughout their three years of marriage, she fulfilled every duty expected of a wife despite her husband’s cold indifference, determined to be a good and virtuous spouse.

Her husband was as elegant as a jade tree, an honorable gentleman with limitless prospects.

Everyone told her she ought to be satisfied. Her family no longer had anyone to rely on, so being able to marry into the Xie Family was an incredible stroke of fortune.

Yet on a snowy night, when her husband abandoned her once again for the woman in his heart, Ji Hanyi suddenly saw the truth: her husband had never loved her.

And so, at nineteen, she stubbornly took the Divorce Agreement and walked away alone, even as her husband mocked her and declared that she would regret it.

After the divorce, Ji Hanyi had planned to take her mother to Jiangnan, where she would run a shop and live a quiet, peaceful life. But then the most noble — and most aloof — scion among all the aristocratic families in the capital suddenly said he wanted to marry her.

Shen Si was like the high-hanging moon on a cold winter night, forever beyond reach. Noble by birth and immense in power, he was also notorious for his icy ruthlessness and unapproachable demeanor. Yet he told her, “You may take two days to decide whether you are willing to marry me.”

In his heart, however, he had already prepared what he would say next:

If you are unwilling, then I will keep waiting for you.

Ji Hanyi had no idea that Shen Si, that eternal block of ice, had fallen for her back when he first discovered love as a young man. Every trace of distance and aloofness he showed her was born of restraint and deep devotion. He had even hidden his possessiveness toward her perfectly.

Mom brought home the dead crabs our neighbor had thrown away and cooked them with the live ones.

“One for your big sister, one for your little brother, and one for your little sister.

See how fair Mommy is?”

But my little sister spat out her first mouthful of crab roe.

“Mom, I think this crab smells bad…”

Mom slammed down her bowl in a rage.

“Why would yours be the only bad one?

Don’t waste food.

Finish it!”

That night, my sister got food poisoning.

But Mom insisted on making our neighbor pay the medical bills, delaying treatment until my sister died.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that same evening.

I immediately switched my sister’s crab with Mom’s.

“Hers is much too big.

We should give it to Mom!”

Then I shelled the dead crab in my own bowl and handed it to my brother.

“You’re still growing, Xingxing.

Have mine!”