Royalty

Chapter 0

I am a Noble Consort, and I can hear the Emperor’s thoughts.

In my previous life, I followed those thoughts and fulfilled his every wish.

I thought I would climb the ranks and maybe even snag the seat of Empress for myself.

In the end, the Emperor turned out to be the worst kind of bastard.

He rejected every kindness offered to him and insisted on courting disaster, falling in love with a Fisher Girl outside the palace.

Against all opposition, he made her Empress.

And because he feared I would harm his Empress, he had me sentenced to death in advance.

After being reborn and hearing the Emperor’s thoughts again,

I leaked the information to my sworn enemies.

[His Majesty breaks out in hives whenever he eats lychees.]

[His Majesty plans to punish your family.]

[His Majesty cannot stop praising your younger sister.]

Consort An and Consort Shu were stunned.

“Sister, what should I do? Please, Sister, hurry and think of something!”

Princess Ci’an has loved the frail Shen Yanbai for six years. The day he promises to seek an imperial marriage decree, floating comments reveal that he is destined to fall for another woman. So Ci’an drops his hairpin, changes her groom, and chooses Chi Song—the scandalously healthy, sharp-tongued heir she has secretly watched train. But when the comments’ heroine and male leads refuse to follow the script, Ci’an must decide whose story she intends to live.

I am the only member of the Ice Clan born without a Snow Soul. To survive, I had to undergo Bonding with a man.

The partner chosen for me was the cold, ascetic High Priest. Eventually, I gave up on trying to win his heart. I abandoned the pendant he gave me and fled in secret.

When we met again, I was slumped weakly in a bath barrel, wearing nothing but that very same pendant. The High Priest’s deep voice drifted from behind me: “Princess, how is the water temperature?”

On the day I was deposed and consigned to the Cold Palace, Yan Yuheng came personally to see me off.

Before the palace gates were locked, he asked whether I hated him.

I touched the old gold hairpin hidden in my sleeve and smiled. For three years as Empress, I learned to speak like her, to carry myself like her, and to love him the way she once had.

But even as I was dying, he never understood: I was never like Shen Zhaotang. I had only acted too well.

After Southern Xu fell, sixteen-year-old Princess Xihe fled through a land at war with the young heir to the throne, only to be delivered into a Northern Qian military camp.

An enemy general fell in love with her, believing her to be an ordinary girl, while she watched those dearest to her die before her eyes.

Hatred for a fallen nation and vengeance for her family drove her onto a road paved with thorns.

Years later, she became empress of Northern Qian and laid her plans one careful step at a time amid court intrigue and bloodshed.

Even when she had been wounded beyond bearing, someone still broke through every obstacle to reach her – but she would have to choose between her own love and hatred, and the lives of all beneath heaven.

I had been an unfavored princess since childhood.

My mother was the daughter of the Defender-General, and since no man in the entire realm dared marry her, entering the palace had been her only choice.

She had not even become empress.

She was merely a consort—not even a Noble Consort.

That was because her personality was simply too fierce.

Without the title “daughter of the Defender-General,” I reckoned she would have died eight times over by now.

By rights, with the might of her family behind her, my imperial father should at least have pretended to dote on me.

I was wrong, for he had dozens of pretty, obedient, clever, adorable, lively, cheerful, and mischievous princesses of every conceivable kind.

As for me, when I was born, fate had randomly assigned me the role of “the slow one.”

Seven days before the grand wedding, the legitimate daughter of the Marquis Manor, who had gone to offer incense and pray for blessings, vanished at Xiangguo Temple.

The matriarch made a prompt decision.

Taking over a hundred manor servants who had signed death contracts, she surrounded Xiangguo Temple, sealing it off into an impenetrable fortress to suppress the news.

The Old Marquis entered the palace overnight to submit a memorial, claiming that my legitimate sister had made a great vow to pray for the Imperial Family and plead for rain to alleviate the suffering of the common people before her wedding.

On the day of the grand wedding, she would be married off directly from Xiangguo Temple.

A room full of maids and older servant women, along with me, a concubine-born daughter, knelt huddled together, everyone trembling like leaves.

Because we knew that if my legitimate sister wasn’t found in one piece within seven days… We would all die.

My parents had always favored me most.

But on the eve of the imperial capital’s fall, they fled with the entire family-and somehow forgot to wake me from my sleep.

When I woke up, the courtyard was deserted.

Yet the moment I turned my head, I realized I wasn’t the only one who had been left behind.

The illegitimate son my father had with his mistress was still here too.

He stared at me without blinking, the look on his face hovering somewhere between a smile and a sneer.

“Second Sister, how did you end up reduced to the same state as me?”

Father and Mother will definitely come back for me.

The words were about to burst from my mouth, but I paused.

Then I cleared my throat and put on a calm, unbothered expression.

“I was the one who refused to leave.”

My Imperial Elder Brother is into men, and my Imperial Elder Sister is into women.

Imperial Father has pinned all his hopes for the empire on me.

I’m trembling-should I tell him that the one I love is a eunuch?

Imperial Father: “Impressive.”

Crown Prince Bai Xiuzhu had been afflicted with the Southern Border Love-Forgetting Gu.

Every time he clawed his way back from the brink of death, he would forget the person he loved most. The first time, he forgot his mother.

The second time, he forgot the marriage vows we had exchanged before Heaven and Earth at the border.

The third time-after I had slit my wrists to feed him my blood and save his life-he sat high atop his throne in the Hall of Golden Chimes and personally marked my death warrant with a stroke of vermilion ink.