Secret Identity

Chapter 0

Chu Huai, the Crown Prince of Beijing’s Elite Circle, confessed his love to my roommate.

A helicopter showered flower petals from the sky, stunning the entire school.

But my roommate was distressed. She asked me:

“But I only see him as a bro… What do you think? Should I say yes?”

I said:

“Say yes. He’s rich and handsome.”

She narrowed her eyes, and the next second, shoved me toward Chu Huai:

“A Huai, my roommate seems to really like you!”

I stumbled and fell at Chu Huai’s feet, a sharp pain shooting through my knees.

Chu Huai didn’t spare me a glance, only looking at my roommate.

His dark eyes were somber, a hint of pain in them:

“Are you a block of wood? How could I possibly like trash like that! You know who I like, don’t you!”

My roommate tilted her head, as if she didn’t understand.

Her beautiful eyes curved, full of innocence:

“Wow, you two are so perfect together! A Huai, I’m kind of shipping you two. Mom, Dad, your baby is here!”

Chu Huai clenched his teeth. For a moment, no one dared to breathe, and a deathly silence fell over the scene.

But I have a severe people-pleasing personality and never spoil the mood.

I said:

“Yes, yes, we’re so perfect together! Hubby, hubby, gogogo, our baby is born! Haha.”

I’m the number one antique appraisal streamer on the entire internet.

Because I’m good at what I do, have a terrible temper, and always look like I rolled out of a dumpster, netizens jokingly call me “Mei Chaofeng.”

It’s perfectly normal for viewers who join my livestream to get roasted by me.

“Sister Chao, how do I turn on my camera?”

“Figure it out yourself. You’ve got two eggs hanging under your eyebrows, but all they do is blink instead of see.”

“Sister Chao, what do I do if I can’t switch screens?”

“You’re a living, breathing person. Don’t tell me you’re going to let a piss break kill you. Just go be stupid somewhere else.”

“Sister Chao, does this look authentic?”

“Calling that garbage would be an insult to waste sorting.”

Until the person who connected with me was a pure, handsome hunk with the sweetest, softest little vibe.

His face flushed red as he held up a pile of “junk,” fumbling all over the place.

“Sister… I’m sorry… I couldn’t figure out how to flip the camera.”

And there I was, chin propped in my hand, smiling as gentle as could be.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know how. I’ll teach you, okay? No rush.”

The viewers in the livestream couldn’t sit still anymore.

[Did she just change faces???]

[Double-Standard Sister!!!]

After I found out the handsome guy’s family had gone bankrupt and he’d been forced to become a male model, I verbally advised him to get out of that line of work as soon as possible.

In my heart, however, I was already calculating how to get my hands on him for a little fun.

But later, the “junk” he took out turned out to be more valuable than the last.

Among them, that emerald gemstone haunted my every thought.

The pitiful little thing transformed into a noble young master. He loomed over me, trapping me in the corner of the bed.

The outer corner of his eye, marked with a tear mole, curved slightly as his predatory gaze swept inch by inch over my skin.

At his fair throat, the emerald swayed gently.

“Give me what I want, Sister, and I’ll give you what you want.”

I became a simpleton while saving my childhood friend.

He promised to repay me by finding me a good husband.

“Tonight, a man will collapse at your doorstep,” he told me. “That is the husband I have chosen for you.”

I followed his instructions to the letter.

Half a year later, my childhood friend returned from the borderlands.

I excitedly introduced my husband to him:

“This is the husband you picked for me back then. He’s a wonderful man, and he even said he wants to make me his Crown Princess.”

He froze in his tracks, his face turning deathly pale.

“It was supposed to be a beggar… How could it be the… Crown Prince?!”

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.”

For three nights in a row, my maid said the same thing in her sleep:

“It seems one of the chickens in the backyard is missing.”

I simply assumed she was exhausted from her daily chores and thought nothing of it.

That was until we encountered a landslide on our way to the Capital. My maid was killed in the disaster, but I was rescued by soldiers who arrived just in time.

Trembling and lost, I sought out the commanding officer, intending to reveal my true identity as the daughter of the Provincial Commander.

He glanced at the maid’s clothes I was wearing and suddenly asked:

“Are the hens still brooding lately?”

While everyone else was fighting for the Emperor’s favor, I built an intelligence station in the cold palace.

Until the day he died, the Emperor never knew that the woman stirring up the hidden currents of his harem was someone whose name he could not even remember.

I died in Yongxiang Alley during my third winter there.

Not truly died-only the kind of death where your name is crossed out in vermilion ink on the registry.

They said Noble Lady Li, who had once worked in the imperial garden and was later favored by His Majesty for her beauty, had gone mad.

Because on the late Empress’s memorial day, I let my hair hang loose, went barefoot, and sang a rousing rendition of “Liangzhou Ci.”

In truth, I was not mad. I had simply calculated that the Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial would pass through the imperial garden that day.

Madness was the best pass in the cold palace, and the best armor.

On the day I moved into the West Third Institute, only one lame old eunuch came to lead the way.

The weeds in the courtyard rose past my knees, and the moss on the well curb was as thick as a velvet blanket.

My roommate, Attendant Li, had been thrown in here three years ago after offending the Imperial Consort.

When she saw me arrive, she did not even lift her eyelids. She only kept rubbing a length of hemp rope in her hands, its edges worn fuzzy.

I set my only bundle down on the crumbling earthen kang.

Inside were two sets of worn palace clothes, a bald writing brush, and half a ream of yellow paper.

The paper pasted over the window lattice had a hole in it the size of a fist. The north wind poured in with a howl, carrying the faint sound of pipes and flutes from far away.

I stared at that hole, but in my heart, a sliver of light slipped through.

In a madwoman’s world, there were the fewest rules.

Here, perhaps, I could live.

I’m a fanfic writer with nearly a million followers on Big-Eyed Guy.

My OTP? A wildly popular young actress and a famous up-and-coming director.

Soon, self-media accounts across the entire internet would be required to register under their real names, and verified influencers with over a million followers would be the first batch to go public.

The moment I got wind of it, I deleted my account and ran.

Because I was that wildly popular young actress.

But netizens loved drama far too much to let it go. They started posting gossip threads across every major social media platform: Girl, who the hell are you?

It was the fourth year of my marriage to my rival Alpha.

He had been in a car accident and lost his memory, with his recollections stopping right before our wedding.

When he saw my wedding ring, his voice was laced with ridicule.

“Who was unlucky enough to marry you?”

I’m a washed-up, eighteenth-tier starlet who spent three years playing the submissive role just to marry into the Jiang Family, the wealthiest clan in the Beijing circle.

My three-hundred-million-yuan ‘wedding of the century’ to Jiang Yuan, the family’s only son, instantly shot to the top of the trending searches.

However, a big shot from the metaphysics circle claimed I had the face of a concubine.

The livestream chat exploded immediately:

“That’s hilarious. It’s the year 3202-who still becomes a concubine?”

“Is it possible they don’t mean a concubine, but a mistress?”

My expression darkened. I joined the livestream and pulled out my marriage certificate for everyone to see.

To my surprise, the master simply said:

“Among the living, you are indeed the primary wife.

“But if we’re counting the dead… well, that’s a different story.”