Politics

The general saved a woman.

Then he asked me to surrender my place as his lawful wife.

I held the divorce paper and laughed coldly.

“Gu Nianwu, success has gone to your head.”

You may command a thousand troops, but I command ten thousand ghosts.

Without me, where would all your glorious victories have come from?

While we were fleeing the famine, my elder brother, He Peizhi, insisted on taking in a mysterious mother and daughter, heedless of the danger to our whole family.

Later, the young woman was carried off by bandits and vanished without a trace, and my brother blamed me for refusing to save her.

Years afterward, his success brought us neither relief nor reunion, only Bai Yuanqing’s merciless revenge.

Given another life, I will no longer work myself to the bone for a brother who cares only for his precious Qingqing.

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.

The princess went out in search of amusement and was captured by the enemy.

On the battlefield, they demanded a hostage in exchange.

Lu Wei, our commanding general, turned to me—the woman standing beside him disguised as a man.

I had spent more than ten years at his side, risking my life with him and helping him win battle after battle.

Only he knew I was a woman.

He had even promised to spend his life with me.

But when he saw the enemy’s blade against the princess’s throat, his anguish was plain.

“Once we’ve brought her back, I’ll come for you.”

He handed me over himself.

By the time that blade reached my neck, he already had the rescued princess in his arms.

Dragged into the enemy camp, I waited day and night for him.

Instead, the news arrived that he was about to marry her.

That evening, I revealed to Xie Lin, the enemy emperor, that I was a woman—and chose to be with him.

Later, Lu Wei finally declared war, announcing that he was coming to rescue me.

Watching Xie Lin make our baby laugh, I sent back a languid reply: “Today is my son’s one-month celebration.

Don’t spoil it.”

Lu Wei lost his mind.

On the day my father placed third in the palace examination, my mother was found unconscious in a busy street, her clothes in disarray.

Mindful of the many years she had supported his studies, my father did not fault her for having been violated.

Everyone praised him for his honor.

Even the emperor marveled at his devotion.

Yet, concerned for my father’s reputation, His Majesty decreed that he marry the Marquis of Yongyang’s legitimate daughter and expected my mother to step aside and become a concubine.

Proud and unyielding, my mother hanged herself that very night.

I was a spoiled princess with an elder sister who came from another world.

With her indulgence, I escaped marriage and raised horses on my border fief while she remained at court and shouldered every responsibility.

Then one day, she vanished.

Everyone thought her era was over.

They did not expect the princess they called useless to ride back to the capital overnight and reveal the strength she had hidden for years.

If my sister was gone, how was I supposed to enjoy being useless in peace?

The general returned from war with a pregnant woman in tow.

I closed the memorial before me and asked Lin Jingfeng coldly, “Shall I grant you a marriage?”

“You are the only woman I wish to marry, Your Majesty,” he said calmly.

I hurled the imperial seal at his forehead.

“I am the emperor!

Have you no decency?”

Blood wound from his temple to his brow.

He wiped it away without a thought and smiled.

“I guarded your bitter, frozen border for three years.

At the catastrophe of Yanxu, I faced an army alone for you.

We had an agreement: the realm is yours, and you are mine.”

His words were quiet and measured, but a bloodthirsty light burned in his eyes.

This young general, this madman, was so beautiful he might have stepped out of a painting.

I stared at him, unable to speak.

My mother was mad for her entire life.

Before she died, she left me a vast fortune and a note.

The note read: Survival Rules for a Tragic Romance.

One: Never pick up a man by the roadside, especially one who has lost his memory.

If you have already picked him up, sever all ties with him at once.

Ignore this rule at your own peril.

Two: Remember that human beings possess an organ called a mouth.

Besides eating, a mouth can also be used to speak.

When someone misunderstands you, use your mouth to explain the truth in a timely manner.

Three: There are many ways to repay a debt of gratitude.

They do not include forcing your savior into marriage, then deliberately neglecting, suppressing, and abusing her.

If any of the above occurs, flee immediately.

My father rebelled, and I became a noble legitimate princess.

Then, after taking the throne, he decided to make his old flame empress and force my mother to step aside.

Who could possibly tolerate that?

I command a hundred thousand soldiers and have won glory on every battlefield, yet he wants my mother reduced to a concubine—who does he think he is?

My father, the emperor, once traveled through Jiangnan in disguise and encountered a diviner.

The man exposed his identity at a glance and left him with a prophecy: ‘The one who will plunge my realm into chaos stands even now at Your Majesty’s side.’

Even after my father ordered him beaten to death, he refused to name the traitor.

And so my mother, the most favored consort in the Six Palaces, was given a bowl of arsenic by that brutal, suspicious emperor.

After her death, he ordered her hair draped over her face and her mouth stuffed with rice chaff, so that even her ghost would be too ashamed to face anyone and unable to speak.

All because she had been the only person beside him that day.

But there was one thing my father did not know.

At nine years old, hidden behind a curtain, I had heard everything too.