Royalty
Palace Cats and Their Many Affairs
My imperial sister’s tomcat set his sights on my female cat and was rejected.
My mother consort ordered me to apologize, so I did.
The tom still refused to give up, and my cat’s other suitors beat him up.
Then Mother Consort told me to kill my “femme-fatale cat” to appease my sister…
This time, I refused.
“Think about who she is and where you stand,” Mother Consort advised.
Understanding dawned on me. “Oh. It’s because my mother is a coward.”
My mother might be a coward, but I was not.
Neither was my cat—she was, in fact, the greatest feline beauty in the entire imperial harem.
The Prince’s White Moonlight
On our wedding night, the prince was summoned away to the side courtyard by his cousin.
I had already taken off my bridal robes and slept soundly until morning.
After all, neither of us was the heroine.
Why should one supporting villainess make life difficult for another?
May Spring Always Stay
In my tenth year as a beggar, I was so hungry I had wrapped myself around a tree and started gnawing on its bark when a young lord in brocade appeared and promised to take me to Chang’an to live in luxury.
Tears filled my eyes at once.
I knew this plot: he had to be some poor boy I once saved, now rich and powerful and eager to repay me.
I hurled myself at him and cried, “Husband!”
The young lord nearly did the splits trying to escape.
“Shut your mouth,” he shouted, “I’m your real brother!”
Peach Crisps
The year I turned eight, I was trampled to death beneath the Crown Prince’s horse.
His guards paid my parents one tael of silver to make the matter go away.
My parents did not even retrieve my body; they took the money with ingratiating smiles and said, “For our daughter to die beneath His Highness’s horse is a blessing she could never have hoped for.”
Before my first seven days of mourning were over, Father divorced Mother and took another wife.
Mother remarried with every appearance of joy.
It seemed they had forgotten me.
Later, just as I was about to be reincarnated, Father and Mother dragged the Crown Prince to my grave and made him pay for my death with his own.
A Flower Beyond the Mirror
Both the Crown Prince and the Grand General wished to marry me.
I hated the intrigue of the Eastern Palace, so I chose the Grand General who had sworn that I would be the only woman in his life.
Yet on our wedding night, his female deputy lured him out of the bridal chamber with a single flask of wine.
Still dressed in my wedding robes, I listened to their moans through the wall for half the night.
When the rain became a downpour, I threw on a cloak and knocked on the Eastern Palace gate under cover of darkness.
At the Crown Prince’s astonished expression, I gave a bitter smile.
“Your Highness.”
“Tell me—if a woman suddenly thinks of another man on her own wedding night…”
“Isn’t that ridiculous?”
When He Tore Off His Prayer Beads
I had profaned the divine after all.
The aloof, ascetic monk from the altar now stood inside my red-draped bedchamber, tearing off his prayer beads as he clasped my ankle, his Adam’s apple shifting.
“Little Highness, this humble monk has broken his vows.”
Bound by a Lock of Hair
I married Prince Shu in my elder sister’s place, figuring that if he discovered the truth, the worst that could happen was a fight between us.
Little did I know that Prince Shu was not only blind, but also determined to pamper the “wife” he had brought home.
Now he is knocking outside my door. “Little Qiao, we have been married for half a month. May I sleep in the bed tonight?”
Er… How am I supposed to tell him that his bride is actually his male, cross-dressed nemesis?
A New Dawn for Hongliu
When the war ended, the army prostitutes did everything they could to persuade soldiers to take them home, because the alternative was being sold to a brothel.
By the time the dark-skinned, taciturn centurion came looking for me, only an old dying woman and I remained in the camp.
She laughed and asked why I was still waiting for Young General Pei when he was about to marry a princess in a blaze of glory.
That night, Pei Qingfeng pinned me to the bed and ordered me to wait for him at the house he had bought outside the city.
Not once did he ask about the man who had visited me that day.
He seemed certain I would never leave with anyone else.
What he did not know was that I had already accepted the centurion named Zheng Yuan.
On the day Pei Qingfeng married his princess, Zheng Yuan and I would be married too.
A New Way to Retire in the Imperial Harem
My best friend and I transmigrated together.
She became a princess consort, while I became… a lynx.
“Save me, save me, save me…” I begged.
“Hang in there!” my best friend said. “I’ll fight for custody!”
Then I demonstrated that I could use a toilet all by myself, and Her Majesty the Empress chose me instead.
Later, when my best friend’s husband rebelled and nearly got her killed, it was her turn to beg, “Save me, save me, save me…”
So I-I sprang up and sank my teeth into the villain’s thigh.
Chang’an Was a Dream
In my last life, I married Wei Zheng, and everyone in the capital said that the eldest son of the Wei family and I were a match made in heaven.
Wei Zheng and I spoke of the realm and its people, dreaming of peace beneath all four seas.
We spent more time apart than together, never dwelling on petty romance, because greater duties filled our hearts.
When he went north to guard the frontier, I set up porridge kitchens outside the capital.
When he reviewed official papers in his study, I sat beside him annotating ancient texts.
When work kept him overnight at the government office, I thoughtfully sent him a letter: “All is well at home. Do not worry.”
He said I was unlike other delicate young ladies who cared only for moonlight and flowers and pestered their lovers to count their eyelashes.
He praised me for being calm, sensible, and mindful of the greater good.
What he never knew was that, as an imperial princess, I had once been the most pampered, vivacious girl of all.
I had simply spent everything I had chasing after him, running until I could barely breathe.
Then one day, I quarreled with someone while Wei Zheng watched coldly from the side.
Only after we returned home, when no one else was present, did he say in that mild voice of his, “The other person did have more reason on their side.”
That was when I realized he had never once stood on mine.