Imperial Harem

At fourteen, naive Ah Yuan enters the imperial palace beside her fearless friend Xiaochun, believing the two of them can survive anything together.

But as Xiaochun rises through the emperor’s favor, the women around them are drawn into a harem where affection is political currency and every child can become a weapon.

Ah Yuan survives by holding fast to kindness, even as loyalty turns into leverage, ambition demands blood, and the people she loves make choices she cannot undo.

Across a lifetime shaped by palace secrets, she bears witness to the cost of clinging to power—and to the quiet courage it takes to walk away.

My very first day in the palace scared the hell out of me.

Did everyone here have a thing for pigs?

The emperor was fat enough to be sent to slaughter, yet these women were desperately in love with him, practically beating each other bloody for a chance to sleep with him.

Afraid he might eat me in the middle of the night, I pleaded illness to avoid his attentions.

That was how I met the other women in the palace who stayed out of the competition.

They didn’t like the emperor.

Their hearts belonged to the Third Prince, whom they praised as a gentleman without equal.

Then I spotted an alien at a palace banquet, and they insisted he was the Third Prince.

The guy’s face was an equilateral triangle.

Certainly no one else like him in the world.

I’d planned to keep my head down in the palace for the rest of my life.

But one day, as I strolled by the lotus pond, the emperor smiled at me with his fat pig face.

“I’m the Third Prince.

May I ask which palace you belong to, my lady?”

Your Majesty, do you take me for an idiot?

I was the daughter of a male courtesan and a prostitute, born of their illicit affair.

For someone of my birth, life was supposed to mean servitude or prostitution.

My parents often urged me, “While you’re still young and beautiful, coax some wealthy, powerful patron into buying your freedom.

You can become his concubine.

That would be better than selling your looks in a brothel.”

But I was young and proud then.

I refused to become a powerful man’s plaything, to spend my whole life at someone else’s mercy.

So before the madam could make me take clients, I escaped from Rouge House.

On the day Pei Rongqi ascended the throne, a number of people were driven out of the palace.

Some were restless young maids; others were aging servants.

I looked at the eunuch and asked a rather presumptuous question.

“Eunuch Chen, must I leave too?”

We had known each other for years, and he looked a little troubled.

“His Majesty said it makes no difference whether the others go, Aunt Feng, but you must leave.”

I nodded in understanding and packed my things.

Looking back at the palace walls through the fine snow, I suddenly remembered Rongqi at nine, clutching my sleeve with all his strength.

“Sister, you must never, ever leave Rongqi.”

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.”

The Noble Consort resorted to every conceivable means to secure a baby boy, plotting to pass off another woman’s son as her own so she could regain the emperor’s favor.

On the day she gave birth, she sent her men to a secluded village, where they murdered a young couple and abducted their swaddled infant.

I survived by hiding inside a rice vat.

But what she didn’t know was that the village was called Half-Ghost Village.

Once its residents turned fifty, they began aging in reverse.

The baby her men had taken was my Great-grandfather.

I was the daughter of a noble house, personally chosen by the emperor to enter the palace. With a single imperial edict, I was made Noble Consort. Everyone envied my good fortune, never knowing that within a gilded cage, even a sparrow cannot fly free. On the day I entered the palace, the matron attending my bath told me: “His Majesty is gentle and kind. Your Grace, do not be afraid.” But in this fathomless palace, the very earth was piled with bones. Every terror within these walls had been wrought by his own hand.

While the concubines of the harem fought for favor, the Empress was wondering when the emperor would finally die.

The emperor and I had been married since our youth, but ours was a match arranged without either of us having any say.

After all these years, we had only ever treated each other with distant courtesy.

And as my son grew older by the day, I found myself hoping more and more that His Majesty might depart this world sooner rather than later-if only so all my years of diligently managing his harem would not have been in vain.

The Han army captured Luoyang. My husband, His Majesty himself, knelt at the rebels’ feet, trembling like a lamb waiting for slaughter.

“The Empress is in Jiaofang Hall. Please, don’t kill me…”

I had been married to him for five years and had given birth to our daughter, Princess Heqing.

Yet at the moment of crisis, he offered me up without the slightest hesitation.

After my Imperial Mother Consort died, I was given three foster mothers in succession.

Of those three foster mothers, some were deposed, and the others were ordered to die.

In the end, I landed in Beauty Lin’s care.

For three years, she and I lived together in peace, without incident.

Until she offended the wrong person and was thrown into the Office of Punishment.

My heart gave a jolt. Oh no. It looked like I was going to have to change foster mothers again.

Worse still, this time, she was the only one I wanted.