Cunning Protagonist

My mother was a farm girl who couldn’t read a single character, yet she still supported my father all the way until he passed the provincial examination.

On the day my father married the Prime Minister’s legitimate daughter, my mother obediently became his equal wife.

My father thought my mother loved him, which made her easy to control.

My father’s principal wife thought my mother, born and raised in the countryside, could never be a match for her.

And so, beneath their contempt, my mother played the fool while hiding her claws, raising me into someone whose worth was beyond measure.

I transmigrated and became an ancient beast of burden, with signs that I might be headed toward the life of a chicken or duck next.

My major didn’t teach me how to make soap or explosives, and the market’s invisible hand wasn’t about to scoop me up either.

Maybe if I’d transmigrated into the ruling class, I might have wanted to stay in this dynasty.

But I know one thing very clearly: I just want to go home.

After eating a poisonous mushroom, I thought I’d transmigrated into an erotic novel.

I was the female lead, working as a little maid in the home of a Beijing Elite Young Master.

When I woke up and saw the male lead, I was slightly disappointed.

I muttered, “Why are there only six people? Do they get Sundays off?”

The Young Master was so angry he laughed. “If I’d known you were this wild, I never would’ve gone easy on you.”

After I sobered up, I burst into tears. “Honey, I was wrong, waaah…”

He leisurely tugged his tie loose and said darkly, “Don’t worry. On Sundays, we don’t rest. We’ll just follow the pace of that trashy little novel of yours.”

Meng Yuanxi and I were rescued from the fire at the same time.

But after we woke, her talent shocked the world, and her policy essays stirred the hearts of all who read them.

Even my fiancé, the Crown Prince, wanted to break off our engagement for her sake.

She said that in this world, she was destined to be the winner.

But I only said lazily, “After getting the chance to do it all over again, you still haven’t improved at all…”

Twenty years ago, my dad got drunk and let it slip to someone that he had made two hundred thousand yuan in a year raising chickens. Before long, every chicken on his farm had been poisoned to death.

Later, my dad bought an eighty-million-yuan apartment in Beijing outright, and he didn’t tell a single person back home. Even my grandparents had no idea.

Now my dad has long since become the CEO of a corporation worth several hundred million. Every time we go home for New Year’s or the holidays, he makes my mom and me help him pretend we’re poor.

At the New Year’s Eve dinner, I sat there bundled in a thick cotton coat and cotton slippers, both hands shoved into my pockets.

And so began my proud inheritance of my father’s fine tradition: talking absolute nonsense.

Who would’ve thought I’d overdo the act and run into someone I knew?

Me: “President Gu?”

Him: “President Shen?”

Then we both clapped a hand over each other’s mouths.

“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.

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.

Everyone in the capital knew I was in love with Fifth Young Master Xie.

But to refuse the marriage, he would rather shave his head and enter Buddhist cultivation.

Only then did I learn that all his tender warmth toward me had merely been a way to use me to curry favor with the Wang family.

I became the laughingstock of the entire capital.

Later, when the loyal ministers of the Xie family were falsely accused, I set aside the past and helped clear their name.

On the night the Xie family regained its innocence, Buddhist Heir Xie rushed over through the rain and said he would return to secular life to marry me.

I stared in astonishment at his face, so certain of victory.

From behind the curtain, the young courtesan reached out and hooked an arm around my shoulders. “Sister, you were just saying you were devoted to someone like me. How are you suddenly marrying someone else?”

I hurried to coax him. “Of course I’m not marrying him. He’s just talking nonsense.”

Fifth Young Master Xie, always so cool and composed, stood there blankly, so devastated that he snapped the prayer beads around his wrist.

When I went to the Capital to seek refuge with my elder sister, I saved two young noblemen who were being robbed by river bandits.

I had heard that nobles in the Capital loved nothing more than repaying a life-saving debt with their hand in marriage.

So I took both of their personal jade pendants.

My plan was to make careful inquiries about their character once I arrived in the Capital, then decide whether or not I wanted to claim that debt of gratitude.

Who would have thought that the moment I saw my sister, I would hear the strangest thing?

On her way to the Capital, the Marquis’s Mansion’s cousin young lady had saved the Fourth Young Master and the Fifth Young Master. Now, she was being honored as a distinguished guest.

As for me, a wild girl from Nanzhou, I was instantly made to look like a little beggar beside that refined and well-mannered cousin young lady.

Even my sister was worried. “Now the Old Madam will definitely be in a hurry to arrange a marriage for the cousin young lady first. What are you going to do?”

Noble Consort Qin was a peerless beauty, alluring enough to make the emperor cast aside his first wife and depose his legitimate son.

With tender eyes, Noble Consort Qin murmured, “His Majesty and I were joined as husband and wife in our youth. We are as devoted as a pair of mandarin ducks…”

Emperor Gaozu, inveterate male chauvinist: “Lady Qin is a mere concubine. How could she possibly have been joined to Us in our youth?”

“Throw this insolent wretch into the cold palace at once-and bring Us five hundred jin of memorials!”

◆ Male-chauvinist emperors with a single-minded devotion to a rich nation and a powerful army ◆

◆ We have no need of love. We want GDP! ◆

Notes:

1. This is a male-lead story in a fictional setting, and an unconventional quick-transmigration novel told through feudal monarchs who enter romance stories.

2. The emperors are written as typical rulers of feudal eras. They care only about raising GDP and have no time for romance. And yes, they truly are male chauvinists. Emphasis very much intended.

3. This is a wish-fulfillment story hostile to the pampered-concubine trope, with face-slapping and scum getting what they deserve. The emperors’ values do not represent the author’s. Please do not derail the discussion.

4. The direction and pace of the plot are entirely the author’s decision, and the author reserves the final right of interpretation.