Royalty

I spent eighteen years in a Buddhist temple.

Eighteen years later, I returned as Princess Chang’an. To compensate me for those lost years, the Empress Mother made a public promise: she would grant me any one thing I desired.

I looked around the room, my gaze landing on Wei Zhao, who shone brilliantly amidst the unremarkable crowd. Pointing at him, I declared, “I want him to be my Imperial Son-in-Law.”

Only later did I discover that Wei Zhao and my younger sister, Princess Kangle, were childhood sweethearts. They were a mere imperial decree away from being wed.

But what of it?

Even if I had known from the start, I still would have claimed Wei Zhao as mine!

That dog of an emperor ordered me to marry a young eunuch, and I didn’t even blink before agreeing.

Yet, on the night of the wedding, I was tied up and hauled into the emperor’s bedchamber before I even had the chance to remove my bridal veil.

The transmigrated woman and the Seventh Prince were thrown into the Cold Palace together.

Her mission was to win over the Seventh Prince and get rid of me, the main villain.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

So I picked up a brick and smashed it down hard on the unconscious Seventh Prince.

Once he stopped making a sound, I raised the brick with an icy expression. “Now I’m the Seventh Prince. You can win me over instead.”

I am the female lead of a PO novel, thrown into a clean romance novel by the system to be reformed.

Hilarious. I walked straight up to the male lead and said, “Hey, wanna kiss?” The male lead threw me in jail, claiming I had sexually harassed him.

Later on, he became even more unhinged than the male lead of a PO novel.

I accompanied His Highness through three thousand miles of exile, yet after he reclaimed his throne, he found me lowly and loathsome.

Later, when the time came to reward merit in the Golden Luan Hall, I asked only one thing of him.

His Highness assumed I would ask for a title or a place by his side.

Instead, I prostrated myself deeply and spoke softly yet firmly: “I ask that Your Highness grant your subject’s daughter a marriage to General Shen.”

His Highness’s eyes nearly split with rage as he finally understood-

Throughout those three thousand miles of exile, from beginning to end, it was never him that I loved.

I paint faces for the dead and open The Door for the living.

After the Prime Minister’s Daughter met a sudden, violent end, I painted the last thing she ever saw.

Three months later, that very face smiled at me from a crowded street.

Later, when the Grand Princess lay within her coffin, she reached out and gripped my brush. “Don’t paint me,” she whispered. “Paint yourself.”

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.”

My cousin’s parents passed away, so my Imperial Mother brought her into the palace to live with us.

From then on, she enjoyed the favor of my parents, the protection of my elder brother, and the devotion of my younger brother.

Even my fiancé praised her for being exceptionally gifted and refined.

There was only one exception. His heart and eyes were filled only with me, never swayed by any outsider.

I married beneath my station to become his wife, and for a time, we lived a life of joy and freedom.

But later, he died-stabbed countless times before being hurled off a cliff.

The Crown Prince’s White Moonlight, the woman he’d pined after for ten years, had finally returned.

She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at me. “You. Go back to where you came from.”

I lifted my skirts and stepped into the carriage, then turned back to smile at her. “Sorry,” I said lightly, “but this seat? You’re never getting it back.”

I have slaughtered pigs in the palace for four years; wherever my axe struck, none survived.

With every pig I killed, I recited “Amitabha.”

My skilled butchering caught the attention of the Prince, who took me as his trusted aide.

I became the deadly butcher’s knife; he became the executioner who wielded it.

Killing and beheading – “Amitabha”; burying them on the spot – “well done, well done.”