Politics

On the day my mother, the Empress, had me choose a husband, I began to hear the inner thoughts of the little palace maid standing beside me.

“How can I tell the Princess that she can’t choose this man? I used the Simulated Life System to test him, and he’s a total scumbag! He’ll subject the Princess to the cold shoulder, take concubines, and keep mistresses. The Princess absolutely cannot choose him.”

I shifted my gaze away from that man and glanced at another.

“Ahhh! You can’t choose this one either! He’s a mama’s boy. Your mother-in-law will torment you to death!”

I frowned, finding it hard to believe. Am I really that weak? If I were to end up in such a state, it would mean my father and mother-the Emperor and Empress standing behind me-had become weak as well.

My gaze unconsciously fell upon Long Zhao, who stood in the crowd with his head bowed.

The little palace maid screamed in her head. “Princess, pick him! Pick him! He will protect you, ensuring the country is prosperous and the people are at peace, and that the land remains safe and sound!”

Oh ho! In that case, I definitely can’t choose Long Zhao. I’m afraid that if I do, she’ll stop screaming.

The first time I killed someone, the blade was dull.

I was fourteen that year. It was winter, and the north wind whipped against my face with a stinging bite.

Three bandits had scaled the wall of my grandfather’s courtyard, intent on stealing the last half-sack of millet he had hidden in the cellar.

My grandfather was blind. Hearing the commotion, he called out my name: “Shen He, Shen He!” He was using my alias.

My real name is Shen Heyi, and I am a girl. But the bandits didn’t know that, and Grandfather pretended not to know either.

He just kept calling, his voice urgent and hoarse, sounding like an old crow being strangled by the neck.

I fished out that Bone-Cleaver from beneath the stove.

Its edge was curled and nicked, so dull it couldn’t even slice through sheepskin cleanly.

But a human neck is softer than sheepskin.

I didn’t think about that day again for a very long time-not until I met Xie Changgeng.

After being reborn, I met Song Shixing again.

He was slumped at the end of an alley, covered in wounds and barely clinging to life.

I knew that in three years, he would become the ruler who stood at the pinnacle of the world.

And I would be his empress. Power and riches would all be within my grasp.

But this time, I didn’t want to save him.

Song Shixing, in this life, I don’t want anything to do with you ever again.

My concubine-born younger sister has experienced Rebirth twice.

In her first life, she chose the Sixth Prince, but it was the Ninth Prince who eventually ascended the throne.

In her second life, she chose the Ninth Prince, but it was the Sixth Prince who eventually ascended the throne.

In this third life, she wants to destroy whoever I choose.

I didn’t choose the Sixth Prince, nor did I choose the Ninth Prince.

Instead, I chose the physically disabled First Prince. She was dumbfounded.

Later, I ascended the throne as Emperor, and my sister became a prisoner.

She raved in madness, saying it was impossible-that only the Sixth Prince or the Ninth Prince could ever be Emperor.

I couldn’t help but laugh. She will likely never understand that it doesn’t matter who the Emperor is.

What matters is that whoever I choose becomes the Emperor.

In the previous two lives, I chose the Sixth Prince and the Ninth Prince. But in this life, I chose myself.

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.”

From the moment I was born, my Father Emperor could hear my inner thoughts.

[Whoa, so my Father Emperor is actually a brilliant and divine Emperor for the Ages!]

[It’s a pity he has a few stains on his record.]

[First, he’ll act on impulse and execute a great hero who served him well, only to cry afterward and curse others for not stopping him.]

[Then, he’ll execute the Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, brewing a wrongful case that will shock the world for centuries, all while shifting the blame onto his ministers.]

[He’ll praise the Grand Preceptor as a ‘clear mirror’ in public, but after the man dies, he’ll raid his tomb and whip the corpse.]

[And the biggest death wish of all: he clearly loves my Mother Empress so much, yet he insists on making her give birth over and over again. When she eventually dies in childbed, he’ll be holding some other beauty while reminiscing about my mother. What a total scumbag.]

My Father Emperor’s brow twitched again and again. Finally, he couldn’t hold it together anymore.

“Quickly! Go and invite the masters from Huguo Temple!”

When the Crown Prince ascended the throne, he installed his Crown Prince’s Secondary Consort as the Empress.

The reason was simple.

It was written in the Destiny Book that his first Empress would die from a hail of arrows piercing her heart.

On the day the imperial decree for the installation was issued, my elder sister-the Crown Princess Shen Chengyun-entered my palace with a beaming smile and gave a rather sloppy bow.

“This consort offers her congratulations to the Empress.”

She leaned in close, her bright red lips curling into a venomous sneer.

“Shen Ruoruo, you’d better cherish these few days of luxury. Don’t get too ahead of yourself, though. If you do anything to upset me… well, whether you receive an honorable posthumous title after you die will be entirely up to me.”

“Is that so?”

I took a step back and spoke in a low, steady voice.

“Then Sister had better make sure she doesn’t die before I do.”

When he called out his first love’s name in the heat of passion, I knew that woman had to die.

The General and I were wed by imperial decree, our families perfectly matched in status. In a marriage like this, I never expected much in the way of affection.

Yet, he brought back a woman from his past-his “white moonlight.” She was pregnant, and he even intended to raise her status to that of an Equal Wife.

He does not understand me. Though I am a virtuous and kind wife, I will never allow another woman to claim a share of my husband.

On the day of the poetry gathering, someone teased Pei Yi’an. “Brother Pei has already been plucked by Princess Zhaoyue, unlike the rest of us who are still solitary figures. I truly envy you.”

Pei Yi’an suddenly flared up in anger. “Princess Zhaoyue and I share nothing but the bond of teacher and student. There is no other possibility in this life. Do not speak such nonsense.”

My younger sister chuckled softly in my ear. “Sister, did you hear that? Young Master Pei has no feelings for you. Stop being so sentimental and making a fool of yourself.”

I put away the jade pendant I had intended to give to Pei Yi’an and replaced it with a poem.

Then, I gave my sister a sharp slap across the face. “I’ve heard exactly what you wanted me to hear, Sister. Thank you for the lesson.”

Later, when I sought out others to consult on my studies, Pei Yi’an took it upon himself to offer me his tutelage.

I looked into his eyes and said indifferently, “I’m afraid of the wagging tongues of others. I wouldn’t want you to tarnish my reputation, Teacher.”

I am the best cook in the capital. No one has ever said my food was bad.

That is, until my noble ex-fiancé-the one who broke off our engagement-ate a meal I prepared.

“This tastes awful. It’s a good thing I didn’t marry you.”

I calmly packed away the bowls and chopsticks. “It’s your Last Meal Before Execution. You’re still being picky?”

That’s right. I am a cook who specializes in delivering the Last Meal Before Execution to death row prisoners.