Tragic Past

Everyone knows I am merely a stand-in for the Northern Liang Crown Prince’s true love.

To coax a smile from him, I would don his beloved’s favorite dancing silks and dance until my feet were raw with bloody blisters.

To shield him from harm, I would take an assassin’s blade without a second thought.

The Crown Prince once remarked, “In the bedchamber, she at least has some use.”

The people sneered at me: “How shameless, doing anything just to claw her way to the title of Crown Princess.”

I remained silent, as I always have.

Because-

The Crown Prince? He is a substitute, too.

The father of my child knelt before me, begging the Empress Dowager to grant him the favor of marrying the woman he loved.

My nails nearly broke the skin of my palms, yet I smiled and asked who had won his heart.

He said Zeng Zi’an, Grand Secretary Zeng’s only daughter, was the love of his life.

But Zeng Zi’an no longer existed.

All that remained was me, consumed by the hunger for power, looking down upon the world.

I served at the Empress Dowager’s side for twenty years as her chief palace maid.

Steady, dignified, respected by all.

No one knew.

I had borne two children for the Son of Heaven.

Only on her deathbed did the Empress Dowager discover our secret affair.

She held my hand, seeming to sigh.

“Silly child. You kept this from me for so many years.”

“I will issue an imperial decree at once and have you enter the palace as a consort, so mother and children may be reunited.”

In my previous life, I truly did enter the palace.

But by then, Zhao Xun already had a Noble Consort he cherished above all else.

He favored me for a time, then cast me aside without a second thought.

Even my own children acknowledged another woman as their mother.

Now, reborn into this life,

I no longer wanted to be his consort.

Beside the Empress Dowager’s sickbed,

I kowtowed heavily. “This servant would never dare presume upon imperial favor.”

“I beg the Empress Dowager for mercy. Please allow this servant to leave the palace.”

On her seventieth birthday, Song Xiaotao found an unconscious young man in her vegetable patch. Judging by her years of experience cracking melon seeds and shooting the breeze at the village entrance, this fellow was clearly trouble. Yet, she brought him home anyway. Song Xiaotao had seen off her last living relative ten years ago. Even if he brought a calamity that wiped out her entire household, she was the only one left to go. When the young man came to and saw Song Xiaotao’s wizened face, his vision swam, and he nearly blacked out again. Heavenly Bodhisattva, why was his Love Tribulation partner an old woman?!

On the night I was crowned Empress, Lu Yuheng personally handed me a cup of Poisoned Wine. He said that since the Ye Family’s name had been cleared, I should spend one night as a glorious Empress before going to meet my kin with a clean slate. But what he didn’t know was that the most painful wound of my life was never death-it was him.

Everyone in the capital knows that every beauty who disappears into Minister Luo’s rear courtyard carries him one step higher in office.

Born mute—or so the household believes—his ninth daughter survives by making herself small and useful to the family’s favored eldest daughter.

As sisters are sold, married, and sacrificed for the ambitions of men, Ah Jiu realizes that obedience will never buy her freedom.

To escape the Luo estate alive, she must wager the one thing society says determines a woman’s future: her face.

A scandal spread through the household about Xue Rao, our family’s adopted daughter, and my eldest brother.

She had him so thoroughly bewitched that for days he neglected his younger siblings.

My second brother was furious and went to confront her.

Before long, he too was constantly visiting her waterside pavilion, with no thought for anyone else.

I decided to see this scheming creature for myself.

Gauze curtains veiled the pavilion, and laughter filled my ears.

Xue Rao greeted me with a smile.

“Why, Third Miss.

Which brother have you come to see?”

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.”

Three months after I moved into Old River Bend, the old lady next door died. While I was helping clear out her belongings, I found a diary.

The first page read: “My daughter died three years ago. The person living next door to me is a ghost.”

But I knew there was something wrong with her daughter from the very first day, because I’m a ghost, too.

While packing my mom’s things, a receipt suddenly slipped out of an old cardboard box.

It read: April 8, 2006. Aigo MP3 player returned and refunded. Goods and payment settled in full. Total: 498 yuan.

I felt as if I’d been plunged into an ice cellar.

The MP3 player I had thought had been lost for twenty years, the MP3 player that became the trigger every time my mom and I fought, had appeared out of nowhere, just like that.

Clutching the receipt, I asked her numbly, “Back then… did you return that MP3 player?”