Politics

The Ballad of Fu Yin

After the Qin Family was confiscated, Qin Shuyu’s place as Crown Princess fell to me.

The Crown Prince could not bear to see his childhood sweetheart reduced to an official courtesan. After much maneuvering on his part, Qin Shuyu transformed overnight into a maid in the Crown Prince’s study, serving him with sleeves of red and the scent of ink.

As his lawful wife, I naturally had the magnanimity to tolerate others. I had no intention of making things difficult for her.

But on the night of our wedding, just as the Crown Prince was about to consummate the marriage with me, a bleak, mournful flute melody suddenly sounded outside the hall.

When the song ended, Qin Shuyu’s shattered voice drifted in after it:

“The past is a heartbroken poem; I pine for you, my lord, yet you never know.”

The Demon Empress

The Noble Consort told me she had traveled here from another world, and that we were all characters in a novel.

She was the heroine, I was the wicked second female lead, and the emperor was the hero.

She was determined to win him over.

Sure enough, she took his undivided favor, then my authority over the palace women.

She even wanted my throne as empress.

“What do you have to rely on but a man’s affection?”

I had finally had enough.

This woman from another world had no power whatsoever.

How dared she reach for my position?

“A sparrow is still a sparrow.

Even if I gave up this phoenix’s nest, could you hold it?”

My ancestors had helped found the dynasty.

My great-grandfather had saved an emperor’s life and received the extraordinary honor of burial in the imperial mausoleum.

My father had inherited the title of duke, and my elder brother was now a chancellor of the first rank.

“You call this ‘palace intrigue,’ do you?

Then let us see what you have to pit against me.”

The Palace Walls

“I’m going to be the Empress someday!”

Ten-year-old Song Weiwei stood on a dirt slope facing the imperial city in the distance, shouting those words with all the swagger she could muster.

As for me, I sat on a dirt mound with my chin propped in my hand, speechless.

“Song Weiwei, you still haven’t paid back the two copper coins you owe me.”

Song Weiwei turned around and rapped me on the forehead.

“What’s the rush? Have you ever seen an Empress who welshes on her debts?”

She hopped down from the slope and turned to coax me.

“Just think about it, Du Zeyi. If I become the Empress, you’d be my sister. You can have anything you want. Why worry about those two copper coins?”

As if becoming the Empress of a nation could be that easy.

I muttered under my breath, rubbed my forehead, and raised my voice. “My mother’s calling me home for dinner!”

Then I slipped away as fast as I could.

Leaving only Song Weiwei behind, stamping her feet in exasperation.

The Road to Chang’an

When I was eight, a lame Daoist wandered into our village.

Mother took pity on him and poured him a cup of water.

He declared that of the three of us siblings, one would become the supreme sovereign, one would become the mother of the realm, and one would stand in a doorway and sell her smiles.

My elder brother had studied since childhood, so naturally he was destined to become the supreme sovereign.

My little sister was beautiful, so naturally she would become the mother of the realm.

And naturally, the one fated to sell her smiles from a doorway had to be me.

Empress of My Own Making

In a secret chamber beneath my imperial father’s former residence, I found a breathtaking woman who claimed to be my birth mother.

She told me my true father was the deposed crown prince who had died long ago in the old capital.

The realm, she said, should have been mine.

But when I finally took the throne, she went mad.

The Long Road Ahead

Shen Chang’an is reborn on the day her elder sister again tries to force the family into a disastrous royal marriage.

In their first life, that choice delivered the throne to a ruthless prince and condemned more than three hundred members of the Shen clan to grotesque deaths.

But Chang’an soon discovers that her sister remembers the past as well—and has merely chosen a different prince to cling to.

Refusing to entrust her fate to any man, Chang’an retreats to Jiangnan, studies statecraft and military strategy, cultivates a divine reputation, and turns the imperial succession into her own chessboard.

Crown Prince Lu Zhao wants to possess her; Third Prince Lu Heng thinks he can use her to seize the throne.

Both are wrong.

Armed with foreknowledge, family power, and an unshakable will, Chang’an sets out not only to avenge the dead, but to claim the realm for herself.

Ascending the West Tower

I was the legitimate daughter of an old noble house, carefully raised to become the crown prince’s wife.

Then a woman arrived on a mission to win his love, and he demanded that our betrothal be broken.

Everyone expected me to fight for him.

Instead, I removed my hairpins, left my face bare, and calmly asked His Majesty to grant the couple their wish.

That night, I left the capital.

Three years later, their passionate devotion had turned to resentment.

When the weary crown prince met me on my return and called me Zhang’er, I knew my opportunity had come.

Snow Across a Thousand Mountains

My mother had come from another world, and she believed firmly in monogamy.

When she discovered that my husband was keeping a mistress, she stormed into his princely residence, demanding that I divorce him and come home with her.

I stared at her.

“Mother, your daughter already has power and wealth.

Why should I care if he keeps another woman?”

Everlasting Dawn

I had always thought I was the heroine’s sworn enemy.

Only when I saw her willingly confine herself to a husband’s household for love did I realize how terrifying blind devotion could be.

Stroking her belly, she urged me to find a good man and discover the pleasures of love.

I shook my head, as determined as ever to follow my own path.

In time, she lost sight of her dreams in that household, all for love, while I made love itself a stepping-stone and climbed to the highest seat of power.

If Spring Had Mercy

In the year when I was at my most spineless, the Noble Consort called me oversensitive.

That very night, I took a rope to her bedchamber, intending to hang myself beside her bed.

Fortunately, she found me in time and rescued me in tears.

Later, a beauty newly arrived at the palace called me as stupid as a pig.

I said nothing.

I simply took out my rope.

The Noble Consort said nothing either.

She just kept slapping her.

“Even I daren’t scold her.

Who do you think you are?”