The first time I met him, he looked like a newborn pup just learning to open its eyes—teary, needy. The first thing he said to me was, "Please, miss, don’t despise me. I’ll do anything!"
At the time I thought, a future husband like that might do—he was a year younger than me, so I made him promise to call me "sister" until we married. His face flushed bright red.
I thought he was simple and honest.
Later I learned the truth: the one who was simple wasn’t him—it was me.
The soft, harmless boy in front of me turned out to be the Third Prince who supposedly "died" during the hunt.
He’d used the Ding Trading House to hide his identity, keeping out of the Crown Prince’s spotlight while pulling strings behind the scenes, moving one calculated step at a time.
…At nineteen I became his wife. Within six months of marriage I was pregnant.
I lay in his arms smiling as I watched his eyes go rimmed in red when he learned the news. Warmth spread through me; I felt like the happiest woman alive.
It was the beginning of my doom.
Even thinking about it now makes me laugh with hatred.
How good an actor does someone have to be to fake things that perfectly?
I only found out he was the new Emperor after being summoned to court.
He wasn’t Qin Zizhu at all—his real name was Edward Yin. All the seven years I’d used his name were a lie.
When I saw him in imperial robes, I barely recognized him.
Turns out I never knew him at all.
He treated me with icy indifference, as if I were a stranger, while gazing at General He’s daughter, Helena, with affectionate tenderness.
When I begged him to let me leave the palace, he put me under house arrest instead.
My heartbreak turned to resignation. All I wanted was to live quietly with our daughter—but even that tiny wish he refused.
When Helena miscarried she blamed me, saying she’d take my Annie in compensation.
Edward knew I couldn’t have harmed Helena, yet he still agreed to hand Annie over.
I remember Annie reaching out with tiny hands, crying, calling "Mother"—my heart felt torn out and bloodied.
He held me, had the maids take the child away.
I slapped him hard and called him a beast. He only tightened his hold and, looking down, said, "We’ll have more children."
That night I pounded on Helena’s palace door until my hands bled, only to be met with a mangled, bloody corpse.
I trembled and vomited blood, blacked out dead away.
After that, I stopped eating and drinking and withered fast. Even when Edward bound me and force-fed me, nothing worked.
Finally he exploded—ordered everyone out, then begged me to hold on, begged me not to die.
I watched him writhe and let out a mocking laugh.
His eyes went wet; like the man who once made me angry, he took my hand and pleaded, "Wife, just hold on a little longer. It will be over soon."
I smiled and stroked his face. Watching the light flare in his eyes, I said, word by word, "You disgust me."
His expression faltered. Bloodshot, he stood and said, "I won’t let you go, Evelyn Ding. If you die, you’ll be buried with me."
Then he turned and left.
I sneered and noticed the ropes around my wrists were loose—just within reach of the candle holder.
In a wash of flame, I saw a flash of yellow as someone rushed in and was pulled away halfway; I heard calls outside—"Protect the Emperor!"—and suddenly I felt light as air.
Finally free.
If I burned to ash we couldn’t be buried together. Maybe a strong wind would scatter my bones tomorrow. The thought made me laugh. I hummed the lullaby I used to sing to Annie and drifted into darkness.
Then I woke up one month before my wedding.
The shock almost toppled me; I sat in front of the mirror all night until, when the attendant Ruby called me to wash, reality finally settled in.
Tears fell from my cheeks, one by one.
Ruby, startled, put down the basin and rushed over. "Miss, what’s wrong? Are you unwell?"
I collapsed into her arms and sobbed.
In my past life Helena had deliberately stirred trouble, setting Ruby up with her favored eunuch. Edward agreed to it.
Even when I knelt before him and beat my forehead until it bruised, he acquiesced.
Ruby killed that eunuch and then took her own life.
That was the start of the final rupture between Edward and me.
That night I shoved a hairpin deep into Edward’s flesh. He bowed, pulled it out from his shoulder, and held me tight, apologizing, "I’m sorry, Evelyn. I never imagined it would come to this. Forgive me."
I bit down hard on his shoulder until my mouth tasted of iron and brine.
Would he not have expected that? He had abandoned Ruby.
If Annie hadn’t woken in the side room and cried at the sight of me, I might have ripped out a piece of him.
"Shh, don’t cry. Miss, was it a nightmare?" she murmured, her hand on my forehead, dabbing my tears. I sobbed long before I could nod, trembling: "Yes… such a terrible dream."
Three days later I finally accepted that I had been reborn. The first thing I thought was revenge.
I wanted to see them ruined—publicly shamed with no place to die in peace.
When my head cleared, reality set in: this would be impossible.
A merchant’s daughter dragging down a prince and a general’s beloved? That’s fairy tale stuff—unless I found a powerful ally, like the Crown Prince, Edward Yin’s rival.
But that was like bargaining with a tiger. The idea disappeared.
I could die alone, that was one thing—but the Ding Trading House supported 145 people.
I pressed my nails into my palms until blood welled.
When vengeance seemed absurd, I stopped agonizing and went to my father’s study to ask to break the engagement.
Edward was there, unsuspecting. He brightened when he saw me, then turned plaintive: "Sister, why haven’t you been seeing me these days?"
He stepped forward to take my hand. Father watched them with a stern face, cleared his throat, "Behave."
But before Edward could touch me, I slapped his hand away.
Smack.
The whole study seemed to freeze.
Amid my father’s and Edward’s stunned faces, I said coolly, "I want to annul the engagement."
Father blinked in surprise, then chuckled and stroked his beard, teasing, "Don’t joke—do you take marriage so lightly? Weren’t you begging to marry fast the other day?"
He assumed I was teasing Edward again. Seeing my expressionless face, his hand slowly stiffened on his beard. "You really mean it?"
I said nothing.
He opened his mouth, then decided to excuse himself with Ruby so we could sort this out.
Edward’s brow furrowed in bewilderment, stubbornness in his eyes. "Sister, why?"
I turned to him, looked at that face, swallowed, and said, "Because you disgust me."
Edward’s expression darkened, colder: "You were intimate with me a few days ago—disgusted now?"
I met the obsession in his eyes and sneered, "Edward, how long do you plan on pretending?"
He froze and then said in a dim voice, "You… you found out."
2. The Ding family wedding was called off.
We returned all the ceremonial gifts but still held the banquet.
Everyone was clever—if they suspected something, they didn’t ask. For them this was a gain; the Ding Trading House was lucrative. As wine flowed, the merchants looked at me with calculating eyes.
I had no appetite for socializing. After a few perfunctory words I went back to the study to sort the accounts.
I hadn’t touched the ledgers properly in almost four years; they left me dizzy the first time I reopened them.
I lived in the study for weeks, sorting records until finally the books made sense. To reward myself, I booked a private parlor at the Jade Breeze Inn.
When I arrived, the innkeeper said the whole place had been reserved.
My family’s own inn—and I couldn’t get in?
The innkeeper hurried forward when he recognized me. "It’s the noble miss."
Sometimes, officials or important families arrive unexpectedly and demand privacy. There was nothing to be done—one doesn’t defy power.
"Who’s making such a show of force that they cleared the house so thoroughly?" I said, understandingly.
The innkeeper exhaled. "General He’s daughter."
I went cold as if dropped into ice. It felt like someone had stabbed me a thousand times then ground my heart out underfoot.
"Who did you say?"
He fell silent at my ashen face.
"Miss, are you unwell?" Ruby asked softly.
I shook my head, told them to wait outside, and walked in alone.
On the second floor two guards kept watch at the private room—men with sharp, disciplined eyes and hardened bodies, the kind only lifelong training could make. The hall was quiet; the familiar voice of a woman laughed softly inside, edged with a false shyness.
"Edward, don’t worry. My father promised the He family will support him wholeheartedly."
I froze. I’d never forget Helena’s voice. How could she already be in cahoots with Edward?
Did Edward contact Helena because I’d driven him off in this life and he started courting Helena early? Or had they always been in contact at this time? If in my past life they were already in touch at this point, it meant he was juggling me and Helena the entire time we prepared our marriage.
"Who goes there!" the guard barked when he saw me enter.
The private room door opened and a woman in pale crimson riding finery strode out, her pretty face full of bold certainty. She was flanked by a man in a half mask—only his thin lips visible—and even with half his face covered, I recognized Edward.
Helena appraised me from head to toe. "Who are you?"
She carried herself like a flaunted peony, proud and brazen, showing off her beauty to passersby.
I stared at her upturned brow and remembered the sharp cruelty in her eyes when they had rested on me.
"Hey, I’m talking to you!" she snapped.
She reached for the riding crop at her side, then glanced at Edward and let it drop in annoyance.
I took a breath and smiled. "I’m the innkeeper."
Helena sneered and frowned. "No thanks. Get out of the way."
She turned to Edward and spat, "These business folk are always sucking up to win favors. That two-faced act is disgusting."
Hearing that, I met Edward’s eyes. He clenched his fist slightly. I smirked, then turned and left.
This life, I can only hope they meet rotten ends.
But Helena came to our house the next day.
She wore a bold, practical outfit and sat in the main seat, meant to look commanding, but her contempt ruined any grace—it made her overbearing. My parents sat one rank below, worried when they saw me.
Helena sized me up with an unfriendly look. "So you’re the woman who called off the engagement with Edward?"
I lowered my gaze. She still acted loud and shameless; four guards stood inside the hall and the outside was cordoned off tight.
If this got out that the Dings had offended General He, how would we do business?
I forced a small smile and asked, "Edward—who is he?"
She looked puzzled, then suddenly incredulous. "You don’t know?"
I lowered my lashes and shook my head, hiding the hatred behind them.
My father, not knowing Edward Yin was actually Qin Zizhu, stepped forward cautiously. “Miss He—surely you must be mistaken. Our daughter just called off an engagement with Qin Zizhu. There’s no one named Yin.”
Helena’s face soured. She pulled out a riding whip and lashed it across my father’s face; the thong was studded with barbs. I lunged to stop her.
Smack.
A numbness ran across my back, immediately followed by a burning pain.
I half-kneel to the ground, sweating cold, every nerve screaming.
“Evelyn!”
My mother scrambled over to help me. My father, staring at my ashen face, flew into a rage and stood up, snarling at Helena, “Just because you’re General He’s daughter, do you think you can mete out private punishment on ordinary folk? Our Ding Trading House pays taxes and disaster relief every year. We run porridge kitchens on the fifteenth of every month. We’ve worked hard—we aren’t people you can humiliate on a whim!”
Helena had been indulged since childhood; in her mind there were no “commoners” or “slaves.” To her they were all beneath her. Being challenged stoked her fury.
I knew her temperament. I grabbed at Father’s sleeve, but it was too late.
There was a murderous gleam in her eyes. With a cold laugh she hissed, “Old man, how dare you bark at me?”
She reached for his throat and squeezed, snarling, “I’ll humiliate you today. Go tell Yama in the underworld.”
“Helena—”
I was ready to plunge a hairpin and go down with her when Edward arrived.
Helena immediately let go at the sound of his voice, turning into a timid rabbit, none of the earlier arrogance left. “Brother Edward, they provoked me first!”
She pouted and put on an injured look.
My lip curled. She was the one lashing the whip, the one trying to kill, and now she played the wounded party.
There was a purple mark on my father’s neck; he kept coughing. My hand trembled and I dared not touch him. I bowed my head and hid my hatred; my fingernails dug into my palm until they hurt.
Edward wore a mask and his voice was cool. He came forward and brushed a stray curl from Helena’s forehead. She flushed like a coquettish girl.
“Now’s not the time to cause trouble. Be good.”
He said it gently.
Helena blinked, still playing the victim but nodding in dissatisfaction, then snorted and swept away. Before she left, she glanced back and curled her lip at me.
I frowned and suddenly realized how badly I’d misread things.
I’d thought all I had to do was leave Edward and my life would settle. But fate had already set its traps—dodge one, there was another.
With Helena’s vindictive streak, she might tolerate a slight for a moment, but she’d never endure it forever—unless she fell from power.
“Are you all right, Evelyn?” my mother asked, full of worry as she glanced between my father and me.
I looked up and forced a smile. “I’m fine. Better than ever.”
If this life was going to be entangled with his, then I’d fight with everything I had. Better to strip the tiger’s hide than be slaughtered alive.
3.
After Helena’s tantrum, business slid downhill fast.
Rivals used the opportunity to spread rumors that the Ding Trading House was being targeted by General He. Suppliers, hearing that Henry Yin’s guards had once surrounded the Ding Estate, began asking for payment in advance. Foot traffic to our shops plunged; competitors undercut prices and siphoned off our customers.
My father fell ill in a fit of rage.
I handled affairs despite my injuries, buzzing from one place to the next. Luckily, because Helena made no more moves for a while, the situation slowly stabilized. But I knew that when Edward’s identity was revealed, the Ding family would be finished. I counted the days—three months left.
Fortunately, the letter I sent hadn’t vanished into the void: agents of the Crown Prince found me.
That night, just as I was about to sleep, a dagger pressed against my throat.
A token flashed in front of my face, then a stranger’s female voice by my ear coldly recited an address, pulled the dagger away, and vanished. When I turned, the window was half-open but empty.
I shut it and felt my heart both pounding with fear and surging with excitement.
The first step had worked.
The Crown Prince’s scandal would break early next year—almost a year to prepare.
Walking along Onyx Lane, I kept my head down and thought about the rumors that Henry Yin was mild-mannered and proper. How much of that was true?
I’d considered the second and fourth princes too, but one was proud, the other grim—harder to manipulate. Besides, they’d soon be out of the picture, one dying of illness, the other arrested.
In truth, I had no other choice.
I entered the hall, head bowed. A young man sat in the main seat; I immediately did the formal greeting.
“All hail the Crown Prince.”
Silence lingered. I couldn’t lift my head; I knelt quietly, heart thudding. Coming here was risky—he might think I was allied with Edward and have me killed. That’s why I’d been so cautious before.
“You’ve spent time in the palace.”
His tone was gentle, but his words cut like water from a mountain stream—it looks warm until you scoop it up and feel the cold. I froze; cold sweat wet my back. In my past life I’d spent three years in the palace and learned many formalities. But I’d only used the simplest commoner greetings—how could he tell?
His observational skills were terrifying.
I exhaled and said, “No, not really. I just learned a little.”
“Raise your head.”
I straightened and looked up. Henry Yin was striking—sharp features, cat-like eyes that seemed amused and dismissive at once. His posture was impeccable, though there was an odd, lazy ease about him. That ease didn’t diminish his presence; his dark gaze fixed on me felt like a thousand hands pressing my shoulders down, demanding submission.
“I hear you grew up with Prince Julian—close as childhood friends.”
He curled the corner of his mouth; his voice softened.
I answered respectfully, “Rumors are unreliable. If it had been true, I wouldn’t have called off the engagement.”
He didn’t respond. He took a sip from a cup one of the maids held.
“Then why did you end the engagement?”
I bit my lip. “Because he deceived me. I despise lies.”
“That sounds a little thin. You’re hiding something.”
Cold slid through me. In front of him there was no place to hide. But if I told the truth, he might think I was mad and throw me out.
“For April fifth, the whole capital will hear that the Crown Prince’s lineage is impure.”
He paused. One of his bodyguards drew a blade and pressed it to my throat, furious. “How dare you—”
The sword would have sliced clean if the Crown Prince hadn’t intervened in time. The guard grudgingly sheathed his blade on command.
I stared at Henry Yin and continued, “Edward will bribe your wet nurse. In one night, the rumor about your bloodline will spread through the capital. The Minister of Rites will be the first to turn, petitioning to strip you of the crown.”
Henry listened calmly, expression composed. He poured another cup and, with an elegant air, handed it to me.
I took it in confusion—should I drink? Was this a test? I’d risked my life telling him this news; he just casually sipped tea?
“Try it,” he said.
I lifted the cup and took a small sip, uncertain. “If the Crown Prince doesn’t believe me, wait for that day. I stake my life on it.”
He asked lightly, “Is the tea good?”
“…”
Was this really the time to discuss tea? The brew was weak; even Clara, our maid, wouldn’t be impressed. I noticed at that moment a warm trickle at my neck—the blade had nicked me. The pain arrived later; I didn’t dare touch it.
Henry’s eyes played over me like a cat toying with prey—unhurried, expectant.
Silence stretched between us. I was the lower-ranked one; I had to break it. “Your Highness?”
For a long time there was no reply. Just as I thought he hadn’t heard, he said, “Leave. I will verify your claim. If you deceive me—”
His eyes softened as if in comfort, and he finished the sentence in a way that made my blood run cold: “It’s manageable even if you lie.”
Why do the most dreadful threats always sound so gentle?
My emotions swirled, but I dared only to ask, “Your Highness—could you protect the Ding Trading House in the meantime?”
He nodded.
Relief flooded me—but then he smiled. It was the kind of smile that gleamed like a blade under melting snow: beautiful and bone-chilling. I wished he hadn’t smiled.
Back at the Ding Estate I was soaked in sweat. Who had spread the rumor that Henry Yin was gentle?
I lay in bed and let out a long breath—he hadn’t killed me. If my prediction came true, maybe I could earn his trust… perhaps.
And what about the tea? Did it have something to do with our scheme? Poison? The doctor later checked me and said I was healthy. Strange.
Days passed. Henry Yin didn’t contact me again. Life returned to its old rhythms. I waited for April fifth.
On the fifteenth, while praying at the temple, someone tried to kill me.
The woman leading the group wore black and moved with lithe grace. The whip gave her away—Helena.
Bold enough to act under the emperor’s nose?
My bodyguards couldn’t match fighters hardened on the battlefield; they collapsed quickly. Knowing Helena’s target was me, I wanted to keep the attendant Ruby safe, so I ordered them to find help on horseback and ran into the trees, hoping terrain would slow them.
Maybe I could make it back to the temple.
I was wrong. Helena caught up fast. Her whip wrapped around my leg, spinning me and throwing me to the ground. I was surrounded in an instant.
She tore off her mask grandly and laughed, “Little merchant girl—again. Tell me, do I kill you or sell you to the red-light district?”
She flicked the barbed whip across my face, drawing a sting of pain.
I plunged the dagger hidden at my wrist at her. She dodged with lightning speed but still took a thin nick across her cheek. The cut was small, but she stared at it like the sky had fallen.
“You dare wound me? You cut my face!” she shrieked and drew a knife to stab me. “Bitch, I’ll scar you.”
At that moment an arrow whistled from behind and Helena ducked, quickly covering her face. Arrows rained down. Realizing she couldn’t finish me today, she snarled and ordered a retreat.
I turned and saw Henry Yin come forward with his guards.
He wore a moon-white robe, looking laid-back and comfortable—an ironic contrast to my disheveled state.
I stood and was about to bow to thank him when he steadied me with a hand.
"Helena’s vindictive. I don’t have time to stare at you every day."
"Hm?"
I froze. So he rescued me today because he’d been watching me every day?
Maybe my expression gave me away. He tapped my head with his folded fan. "Coincidence."
I nodded to show I believed him.
His breathing deepened and he smiled in a way that made the skin along my spine prickle—odd, unsettling.
Maybe I was reading too much into it; he always had moody moods.
"Then… what do you think would be most convenient?" I asked.
He was a head taller than me, so he had to look down. There was a faint hint of disgust in his gaze that made him seem oddly stifled.
When he finally said his plan, I understood why.
"No one’s staying at my manor. You can be my secondary consort first. With that title, she won’t dare publicly lay a hand on you."
I was stunned. "Secondary consort?"
He looked at me and smiled mildly. "What, you still want to be princess consort?"
I shook my head. "Secondary consort is fine. Very fine."
Only after we returned to the manor did I realize Henry Yin’s attitude had been unusually agreeable. Had these past few days confirmed the things I said?
Did that mean I had earned a sliver of his trust?
Still, terms needed to be clear. I wasn’t going to be used for nothing.
The next day I sought him out directly.
It was as if he expected me. When I arrived, Violet was waiting. After I finished my greeting, I asked carefully, "Were my claims proven?"
He chuckled, eyes flashing. "Slow on the uptake. Otherwise who would have gone to save you?"
I swallowed. "So you believe me?"
"No."
"…Then why ask me to be your secondary consort? Aren’t you worried I’m a spy?"
He toyed with a grape between his sculpted fingers, letting it rest on his lips as he chewed. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
I almost convinced myself he might like me.
But if I really became his "secondary consort," my life would be held in his hands. He could watch my every move—paradoxically more secure.
If, on the other hand, I truly opposed Edward Yin, being Henry Yin’s secondary consort might also be safer.
Either way, Henry Yin loses nothing, and neither do I.
As for reputation—I had long stopped caring.
Resolved, I bowed, then looked up. "After your matter is settled, will you promise me two things?
1. Keep the Ding Trading House safe."
He glanced at me coolly. "The second condition is that I let you go, isn’t it?"
I was surprised he could read my thoughts and said yes.
"But the world will know you were once one of mine. True or not, no one will marry you after that."
Reborn to Ruin His Empire
His voice cooled. He seemed displeased.
I nodded calmly. "I know."
He studied my eyes. I met his steady but unbowed.
After a long moment he lowered his gaze and pursed his lips. "Do you hate the palace that much?"
I wasn’t sure what to make of that—did he want me to stay? The thought made no sense, but it still sent my heart into a stuttering beat.
Seeing me silent, he didn't press. He rose and tapped my head with his fan. "Stay the night. Tomorrow Violet will send you back with the Crown Prince Manor carriage."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
I kowtowed; only when footsteps faded completely did I lift my head to watch him leave.
The air seemed to hold his scent—bamboo, and the softened chill of melting snow—somehow familiar.
"What a strange man," I murmured.
I couldn't understand how the Crown Prince, raised with endless affection, could be so mercurial and awkward.
But it wasn't my business. Once I returned to the Ding Estate tomorrow, there'd be no turning back.
The next day Violet made a spectacle bringing me back to the Ding Trading House.
Everyone knew the Crown Prince's insignia; murmurs pressed against the carriage, wanting to know which girl had caught the prince's eye. The whole city buzzed.
When the carriage eased up at the Ding Estate gate, I drew a breath and climbed down with Violet’s dignified help.
Gasps and whispers swelled. Some people didn't even care about me, only about the gossip. "The Dings are merchants—how could they get involved with the Crown Prince?"
"She's almost twenty—scandalous!"
"No wonder they'd broken off that marriage with the beggar; they must've found a higher branch to cling to."
The chatter never ceased.
Violet, trained in arms and always imposing, swept the crowd with a look and they fell silent. She treated me with unusual respect—no swagger, very polite—and the onlookers' faces soured.
When she announced, "Come tomorrow to receive the secondary consort," their expressions darkened further. They were probably thinking if a merchant girl that age could become a prince's secondary consort, their daughters should have a chance too.
I felt nothing but scorn. What was so great about marrying the prince? Ridiculous.
My parents thought I was truly favored by the Crown Prince and were afraid and elated. I told them he treated me well and doted on me, and they stopped asking.
That night after dinner, Ruby undressed and washed me. I was half-awake in the steam; last night had been too tense to sleep and exhaustion took me. But I couldn't sleep—I was marrying the Crown Prince. Edward Yin would surely know. Would he come? If he did, then perhaps my match with the prince had been engineered by him.
"Miss, if you're tired, just sleep," Ruby said.
I yawned. She dried me, helped me into my undergarments, and went to keep watch. Attendant Anna had already left the manor—probably at home happily stitching my wedding dress. I was sorry I couldn't see her wedding. Sometimes I envied her carefree sweetness and the quiet life of mutual love.
I lowered my eyes, tamped down the feelings, and blew out the candle. Those fantasies weren't for me.
In the dead of night, a soft sound. A bookmark slipped from the window lattice and fell. Someone had come in.
A familiar silhouette approached. I was surprised—he'd really come.
Edward Yin crept toward me and, seeing I was awake, looked at me with a stubborn light. "I always wondered why you abruptly broke the engagement and found out my identity. So it's because of Henry Yin. Sister, you’re clever—why didn't you think: would he really be sincere?"
I said coolly, "And you are sincere?"
A flash of violence passed through his eyes. "Evelyn! If I weren't sincere, why would I risk coming here tonight? You really think I didn't know this was a trap set by Henry Yin?"
I almost laughed at his words. "Hearing you say that almost made me think your affair with Helena was just a fling."
His expression darkened.
I stood and grabbed his collar, revealing the small teeth marks—proof of my ridiculous past life. Helena loved to mark him where she had been with him, to spite me. Apparently this life was no different.
Edward froze, then hurriedly said, "Helena's brash, but I need General He's support to stand a chance. I never planned to abandon you. Once I'm in the palace I'll bring you in—my utmost favor will be yours…"
I shoved him away, disgusted at the memory of the last life. He clenched his fist, agitated. His tone dropped. "Are you treating me like this because Henry Yin touched you?"
That question made my stomach turn. I shot back even more venomously. "Yes—obviously. You know very well the Crown Prince is stronger."
A double-edged implication.
He hadn't expected my reply. The anger in his eyes warped into frenzy. In the next instant his hands were around my throat with a sickening crack.
"Tell me—tell me you lied!"
I couldn't breathe. I stared at him, thinking I would die in his grasp. Then a dart flew through the paper window and struck Edward's wrist.
He had to let go.
I fell to the floor, every bone aching.
Edward looked at me, guilt flickering, yet he hissed, "You won't get away!"
And he leapt through the window, melting into the night.
The door then flung open and a cold presence wrapped around me. Henry Yin drew me into his arms; his warmth was oddly addictive.
"Go after him."
"Yes."
Figures passed by. I snapped back and shoved him away, propping myself up on the bedpost. "Your—"
Before I could finish, a scorching pressure burned my throat—a white-hot pain spreading.
Those hands, jade-like, steadied me, tightening on my arm before instantly loosening. "If you can't fight, why pretend to be strong?" His voice carried a faint frost.
I reeled at the memory of my earlier taunt—"the Crown Prince is stronger." Pain and shame crawled through me and I dared not lift my head. "It was… an accident."
He was silent a long moment, then sighed. "Tomorrow Violet will fetch you."
I reflexively nodded, then a pain like a ruptured chord shot through me and I gasped.
Henry paused, hesitated, then turned back and laid his hand against my neck. The warmth there stunned me for a second, and then sharp pain seared through.
The sound of a snap—"crack."
I couldn't help it. I cried out and clutched the hurt.
A light, almost amused voice said, "Ugly."
In my peripheral, Henry's mouth quirked. Moonlight through the window softened his sharp features like a glow.
Before I could collect myself, the smile had vanished as if it had never been. He expressionlessly pressed a bottle of medicine into my hand. "Use this for now. Tomorrow I'll have the palace physician see you at the manor."
I was about to nod, but the memory of his warm hand on my throat made my skin prickle. I answered, "Yes."
The image had rattled me, and my heart stuttered. He seemed to be studying me, and I averted my eyes.
At last he withdrew and left. I watched his back and bit my lip, then checked on Ruby and the others. They were asleep soundly.
After all that, I couldn't sleep.
The next day, seeing the crimson wedding robe set my heart in greater turmoil.
"Violet… that outer layer—is that mermaid gauze… no, the robe is star-cloud brocade?"
Star-cloud brocade was rare even in the palace. Mermaid gauze belonged only to the empress. For me to wear it?
Violet's face brightened and she smiled. "A secondary consort needn't worry. Just go and be married in peace."
She spoke as if this were a real marriage.
I looked into the mirror. At twenty, I still had the face of a lotus, but my eyes held a weariness that couldn't be hidden.
The bandage around my neck—soft pink gauze—hid the bruise, and the little jewels pinned to it made me look even more beautiful.
I expected to be carried straight to the Crown Prince Manor, but to my surprise, Henry Yin actually came himself.
Hearing the murmurs outside, I felt a little bewildered.
The charade didn’t need to be so elaborate. Was Henry coming because of Edward Yin… or because of something else? I didn’t dare think it through. When we entered the bridal chamber, I pulled off the veil, which made maid Clara gasp.
“Miss! You can’t take it off!”
I smiled. “It’s fine.”
I didn’t even know what ointment they’d used last night, but after one night it was a lot better. I could already speak a few words and moving my neck slightly wasn’t painful.
Clara sighed, glanced out the door, and pulled a sugared pastry from her bosom.
“Miss, when will you behave properly?”
She thought I’d slept wrong and, breaking the pastry into slightly larger pieces, carefully fed them to me. I smiled at her.
“So sweet.”
She pinched my cheek, then put the veil back over my head.
She didn’t know I just didn’t want to face that awkward scene.
I heard the door open and knew Henry had come in. Then the door sounded again—Clara must have slipped out.
I pulled the veil off again and saw Henry poised with the pole to lift the bridal cover.
The air went weirdly tense.
I couldn’t tell if he noticed my resistance.
He glanced at me coolly, lowered the pole, and said, “I didn’t expect the Consort would be so impatient.”
I pretended not to notice his annoyance and laughed, clearing my throat. “Then—cough—try again?”
I reached for the veil and put it back on silently.
This time it took a long while before the veil was lifted; when it finally came off, the one standing there wasn’t Henry but Clara, frowning at me. “Miss, where did His Highness go?”
“I… don’t know.”
Clara looked at me, sighed, and began removing my makeup with a look of exasperated affection, as if she couldn’t believe my stubbornness.
I played innocent.
I thought about it all night and still couldn’t accept it.
In my previous life I had truly admired Edward, and I wasn’t naive about men. But Henry… no way.
I forced myself to a kinder conclusion: maybe Henry loved ceremony so much that even a sham had to be flawless. That would explain his displeasure. The palace was strict and he was very proper—somehow that made more sense than believing he fancied me.
The next morning I prepared snacks and waited outside his study, determined to be a convincing fake consort.
When he returned from court I greeted him with my brightest smile.
He stiffened for a beat, then recovered, though I saw it—he looked at me like he’d seen a ghost.
I hurriedly looked away. Maybe I imagined it, but he seemed to grit his teeth, take my hand, and pull me into the study.
His hand gripped mine so tightly my mouth opened but I said nothing.
He didn’t let go until we were inside. I whispered, “Your Highness, do you have spies in the Manor? Who are we pretending for?”
He shot me a cold look and I shut up.
Henry’s lip curled coolly. “The Consort is clever. Then cooperate.”
He released my hand and took a bite of the pastry. “Did you make these?”
I nodded stiffly.
He said lazily, “Terrible.”
…But that strange atmosphere didn’t last long.
He rifled through a bookcase and spread a piece of parchment on the desk: a map, annotated with various factions.
“Look,” he said flatly.
I stepped closer. I wasn’t part of the power circle in my past life, but Edward had occasionally mentioned court affairs to me—he spoke; I rarely answered. Scanning the map, I pointed out a few locations I recognized: the mines, and the troop station I’d thought was under General He’s command.
Suddenly something felt off.
“Huh? Isn’t General He’s garrison at Rosehaven?”
Henry shook his head. “It’s General Chen’s.”
I frowned. “But he marched from Rosehaven directly to reinforce—otherwise Edward couldn’t have won.”
I fell silent and looked to Henry. He was studying the map, seemingly unaware of what I’d said.
But I knew he’d heard.
I kept quiet like a quail, not daring to speak.
“What are you thinking about?” Henry’s voice softened a little, as if not to startle me.
Maybe I was crazy to think it meant anything; I shook my head stiffly. “Nothing.”
His gaze darkened, like stormclouds rolling in.
I half expected him to throw me out of the study, but he only sighed. “I wasn’t trying to pry into your secrets, so there’s no need to be so guarded.”
Those words pricked something inside me—no pain, but an awkward discomfort.
After discussing a few recent developments he thought might happen, I returned to my room.
That night I encountered something I hadn’t expected at all.
“Your Highness?” I’d just finished bathing—my hair still damp—when I stepped out and saw Henry sitting properly at the small table reading.
Clara showed no surprise, clearly expecting this. She smiled at me and moved to leave, but I grabbed her hand.
Her smile froze; she shot a quick look at Henry, then unceremoniously plucked my hand away and strode out, closing the door behind her with a plucky “helpful” thump. I was left standing there in nothing but my undergarment. Help.
“Your Highness?” My voice trembled, and finally drew Henry’s attention. He glanced at me and said coolly, “The Consort will sleep first.”
…What does that mean???
I bit my lip, about to ask what he meant when his thin lips moved and cut off my question. “There are spies in the Manor, looking around.”
My face flushed. Wasn’t that exactly what I’d suspected? Didn’t he have better lines?
“So where—will I sleep tonight?” I asked, eyes flicking to the bed; my toes clenched inside my shoes and I dug them into the floor.
He looked at me; his severe features softened a bit and a faint smile touched his eyes. “Of course the Consort will be inconvenienced to the floor. Wouldn’t want to soil my virtue.”
I choked on the embarrassment of imagining it was romantic and, mortified, spread the bedding from the closet on the floor and lay flat, covering my face like an ostrich. If morning would never come, that would be fine.
I slept fitfully.
I woke before dawn, propped up, about to call for Clara, and saw Henry still asleep in the bed. I quietly tidied the blankets and dressed.
When I turned, Henry was sitting up against the headboard watching me with an unreadable expression.
I blushed. “Good morning, Your Highness.”
He didn’t answer. He rose and, almost fondly, pinched my neck. Before I could fuss, he said the day’s first odd thing.
“Good thing your snoring didn’t mess your neck up again.”
Me: “???”
A ripple of amusement passed his eyes. He called for attendants, and a line of servants came in, interrupting whatever I was about to say. I had to pretend to be respectful while he washed and dressed.
At breakfast he told me to come to his study after court—and to bring snacks—saying it like it was nothing.
Gritting my teeth, I remembered he’d called my pastries “terrible.”
I ran through the calendar in my head and remembered that in a couple months the Second Prince would die suddenly and the Fourth would be exiled for hoarding subversive papers. I told Henry that, though my timing on the exact days might be off. I only knew the general outcomes, not the processes.
He nodded and ate slowly, then went to court.
I watched his straight back and sighed. Tomorrow would be the return-to-her-family ceremony. With Edward’s temperament it would cause trouble—what would he do?
On the day my family came for the ceremony, everything was calm. Henry and I returned to the Manor with no incidents.
I even commented on how quiet it had been, and he smiled coldly: “He has to have free time too.”
There was ice in his eyes. I guessed he’d done something and my heart fluttered.
As days passed, Henry grew more prickly and proud. When the doctor declared my neck healed, he had me in the study from dawn to dusk serving tea. I smiled outwardly while inwardly cursing him from head to toe.
Was serving tea supposed to be a favor?
Still, things changed in subtle ways.
At the table, foods I liked gradually increased. What had been bland was suddenly spiced. Every time Henry ate a little of something spicy his face flushed; I couldn’t bear to watch.
The bedroom furnishings edged more and more toward the style of my family home—only more lavish. Even the bedding was changed to my preference.
When we talked state matters, the glints of gentleness that sometimes passed through his eyes made me restless.
This couldn’t be how things went. If he won, he’d be emperor and I’d never return to the palace.
Two months later Henry told me the Second Prince had died—not of a sudden disease but of venereal illness. He said it with a smile. “The Second was fastidious. Even his concubines were from respectable, chaste families. Imagine dying of such a filthy disease—what humiliation.”
His tone was gentle, his expression placid.
My scalp prickled. I was speechless. He’d done nothing wrong, yet it terrified me how cold people in power could be.
Henry reached out and indulgently patted my head like he was soothing me.
I felt colder inside.
That night I lay on the floor sleepless, turning over everything from the past months. Edward was ruthless; Henry wasn’t a saint either. If he succeeded and didn’t spare me, I would be doomed to squander my life in the palace like before.
“Can’t sleep?” Henry’s voice came; he was watching me. I shook my head and closed my eyes, then heard him get out of bed.
“Are you afraid of what happened in the daytime, or are you afraid of me?” he asked.
I bit my lip. I missed the way he sometimes called himself “this Lord,” and the memory made my heart ache. “No—just can’t sleep.”
He lay down beside me. “Don’t think too much. You’re already ugly; staying up late makes it worse.”
I bit down on my frustration.
His harsh eyes softened. “The forces Edward hid in the shadows have mostly been located. I was surprised—if we hadn’t known in advance, who knows who would win.”
I stayed silent.
Cicadas chirped outside, their rhythm turning the air vaguely intimate.
“When it’s all over, you—”
“I’ll leave,” I interrupted.
The intimacy splintered and fell away.
His gaze turned lonely; I couldn’t bear to look.
After a long pause his voice went hoarse. “Fine. You may be ugly, but you’re decent at trade.”
I forced a smile. “Yes. Free and easy.”
He closed his eyes, then stood up and fixed his gaze on me. “The spies are removed. After this, do you still want to sleep… on the floor?”
He was asking if I wanted to keep sharing his room.
I saw a fragile hope flicker in his eyes and looked away. “If that’s the case, then of course I’ll sleep in the bed.”
At my answer, his hope dimmed completely.
From that day on, we went back to the original terms: only business, no love talk.
The last few months had felt like a dream.
I didn't know where his initial fondness had come from, but I knew I had fallen for him and had to retreat in time.
Six months later, Edward Yin’s power had been ripped apart, his hidden pieces gradually neutralized.
Besides, in my last life he’d relied on surprise and nearly lost. Now that all his cards were exposed, he couldn’t compete with Henry Yin.
Everything was decided—over.
But a centipede still twitches after being cut in half. Henry ordered me to stay at the Manor and not wander around, just in case.
I wasn’t in a hurry, so I agreed.
I didn’t expect something would still happen.
8. Edward actually threw the rest of his forces at me. While Henry was on an inspection tour, Edward kidnapped me from the Crown Prince Manor.
Months apart, his cheekbones had hollowed, his eyes razor-bright. He stroked my face with satisfaction. “Sister, look—didn’t you finally come back to me?”
I had been drugged. Weak and dizzy, I could still sense how steep the ground was.
He held me in his arms, burying his face in my neck.
His breath fanned over my skin.
I felt nausea rise in me.
Like some sticky insect crawling over me.
I almost threw up.
His expression snapped. His eyes bled red. “Disgusted by me? What—are you enjoying being under Henry? Do you despise me that much?”
He lunged, biting wildly, tearing my clothes. I bit my tongue through to bring myself pain and strength, yanked out a hairpin and stabbed.
I missed the mark—only grazed his shoulder blade.
He glanced down, cold-faced, tore the pin free and aimed to stab me. I stared at him without fear.
The pin glanced and lodged into the side of his face.
His eyes flooded red and tears brimmed. “Evelyn Ding, do you think I wouldn’t dare hurt you? Is that why you treat me like this? Huh? You think this stupid pin can stop me? Today I’ll make you mine! Let’s see how you’ll be with him then!”
He grew rougher, ripping the rest of my clothes. Blood dripped from his shoulder, smearing like a crimson tear.
I bit down on his shoulder until the coppery taste filled my mouth.
He shoved me away, raised his hand to strike, then clenched his fist and smashed it against the carriage wall.
“Why? What did I do to make you hate me so much? Yes, I stole the embroidered ball on purpose—at first it was scheming—but then being with you day after day I did fall in love. I never lied about that. I wanted to marry you, live with you forever, have a daughter as beautiful as you—I even picked out her name before we wed! Can you give me one more chance? I don’t care that you slept with Henry, please—love me again like before?”
He cried as he spoke, every drop of shame and pleading like a child’s.
I looked at him and laughed, the sound bitter. What right had he to feel wronged? What right to demand my love?
“We had a daughter.”
He blinked, confused.
Slowly I pressed my finger into the tiny hole the pin had left in his shoulder, watching him flare with pain. I ground my teeth. “You gave her to Helena He to be killed.”
A flicker of confusion, then a sink of realization crossed his face. “You’re faking madness? I won’t let you get away with that!”
“Ha—ha—ha—ha.”
Hearing that, I laughed until tears sprang to my eyes. All the hatred from my past and present lives condensed into something tangible, surging out of me.
Like a demon, I seized his collar. “Our daughter was named Yara Yin—nickname Annie. Didn’t you say you chose a name?”
He froze, staring into the wild anger in my eyes. He stumbled back from me. “You… you saw me name the child…”
As he spoke, his face went pale—perhaps he realized he had never told me.
He mumbled to himself, “Impossible… how could there be such a thing? The child in my dream…”
I stared at him with murderous hate. His face drained of color.
Outside, a voice called, “Your Highness, pursuers!”
Edward threw back the curtain and his eyes went cold. “Go faster.”
“Yes!”
The carriage jolted more violently. Alarm shot through me—he clearly had a contingency. This was a trap.
I asked, worried, “What are you going to do?”
He stroked my face without answering, then flashed a smile like a child who’d stolen candy.
Soon the carriage stopped. He carried me into a small outbuilding.
Horses stamped nearby.
I clutched him, telling him to let go, but he kept running toward the back door until an arrow pierced his leg and he collapsed.
I tumbled out of his arms and smelled something odd on the ground. Before I could think, Edward—seeming numb to pain—crawled toward me with a knife at my throat. He held a tinderbox and shouted at the approaching Henry, “Don’t come closer! I’ve buried gunpowder!”
Henry froze his horse at a distance, eyes hard as a line. “Release her. I won’t kill you.”
Edward sneered, rubbing his face against my neck, voice pained and oddly tender. “Sister, die with me.”
I ignored him and turned to Henry, giving him a small smile—hoping the last image he kept of me wouldn’t be me blown to pieces.
Edward lit the fuse on a nearby tree.
Henry went pale and lunged—only to be held by his men.
He slammed and tore, screaming my name with none of his usual composure. He looked truly foolish.
I shook my head at him.
Edward whimpered like a wounded animal: “Sister, I always dreamed of a little girl… she called me father.”
The fuse was halfway burned.
I said coldly, “Is that so? Maybe she was too young to understand you were the one who ended her life. I’ll tell her after we die.”
Edward froze, pressing his head to my shoulder in agony.
The fuse was down to a quarter.
“Fine. Sister, I won’t let you tell her.” His voice trailed.
The fuse burned out.
The knife hit the ground.
Boom.
Explosions ripped through the courtyard. I was thrown to the earth as chaos erupted. Henry’s men hesitated—and in that instant he broke free and hurled himself over me, using his body to shield me.
Stunned, I watched the flashes. The blasts came in a dozen thunderous bursts, ears ringing.
When I stood shaking, the scene was a wreck—blood everywhere.
For a moment, I couldn’t understand why Edward would push me away at the last second. I had thought I was dead.
Henry asked me a dozen frantic questions, but I heard nothing until a glint drew my eye.
A broken safety amulet lay in the dirt.
When Edward had given me the bracelet he’d once handmade, I’d felt compelled to return the favor. I bought fine stone and carved a safety amulet for him—couldn’t quite make it perfectly round. Embarrassed, I almost didn’t give it. Somehow he found out and wore it around his neck, refusing to take it off. Mocked for its imperfect shape, he beamed with pride and said, “She made it.”
… “Evelyn, look at me! Evelyn? Can you hear me?”
I blinked back to the present. Henry lightly tapped my cheek—his face and clothes caked with ash and dust.
I nodded, dazed.
He breathed out and wrapped me in his arms. His warmth made me press back, oddly reluctant to let go.
“I’m sorry—sorry, I almost lost you again.”
I wondered about that “again,” but asking felt pointless.
Feeling his heart hammering, I patted his back. “Your Highness, keep your promise.”
He stiffened, then slowly loosened his hold.
After a long moment he finally answered, “Mm.”
It was over.
Edward’s body was gone; those who aided him, the He Household, were eradicated.
Helena He was awarded—sent to the same eunuch who, in my past life, tormented Ruby. Months later I heard she’d gone mad.
Henry never pressed me for details about my ordeal. Perhaps he guessed, but he respected me. I appreciated that.
He never told me what that “again” meant—he said only the Empress knew. I never asked. Before I left, I did manage to rile him one last time.
Back at the Ding Estate, I returned to business.
A year later, Henry became Emperor and set about governance. Oddly, every time he prepared to bring a woman into the palace he would faint.
They consulted the abbot at Lotus Life Temple, who said Henry’s fate was harmed by a mismatched fate line—only a woman born at the third watch of the night could match his birth chart.
When Father told me this, he stole a glance at me.
That was my birth hour.
I pretended not to hear and, finishing my porridge, said, “Go to the study,” then left without looking back.
Henry and his schemes—how would he even persuade a high monk to break vows?
I smiled to myself.
I’d barely stepped into the study when a letter lay on the desk.
Inside was one line: “I want a snack.”
I recognized the handwriting and couldn’t help the small curve of my lips.
Outside, peach blossoms drifted down in a soft rain.
“Maybe… I miss him too,” I admitted.
(The main story ends here.)
[Henry Yin—extra from his past life] 1. Flood in South City—ten thousand taels sent for relief, but refugees still poured in, many stranded at the city gates.
My father ordered me to investigate.
After court, my fourth brother came up with a smirk and “congratulated” me; his eyes were sharp and envious.
I ignored him and planned to inspect the refugees outside the walls, so I walked past him.
He stepped closer and hissed in my ear, “Father favors you. Do you really think you’re talented?”
I stopped. I gave a wry smile. “Not bad—at least I’m not useless at both letters and arms like you.”
He went green. I left him.
Fourth Brother had been acting bolder lately—he even had his hand in the Manor. Still, something felt off. He wasn’t that clever.
I pushed the thought aside and climbed the city wall.
The refugees spread all the way outside. My brow tightened—thousands, maybe more. How could there be so many?
“Your Highness, this—” Ashen, who’d grown up with me, saw my grim face and the disaster and spoke quietly.
I ducked down the wall to a small tailor’s shop, donned filthy, patched clothes, and when I came out, Ashen—surprised—had changed into a similar disguise.
I messed my hair, dirtied my face and hands, and left the city again.
Thankfully, soup was being handed out by relief soldiers. The sight eased my irritation somewhat.
The soup line was nearly half a mile long—trembling elders, pale, thin children, emaciated sick.
I slipped into the line and, moving slowly, asked the old man in front about their situation.
He panted, a hollow body railing against the court. He said the gruel they were given had sand mixed in.
We fled all the way to the capital, only to be denied entry.
After saying that, he coughed a few times.
I moved toward the front of the line and expected to see soldiers. Instead, there was a girl of sixteen or seventeen carefully handing bowls to the victims.
Arched brows, almond eyes—the kind of clear gaze you rarely see inside the palace. No calculations, no coyness—just honest, open sincerity.
She noticed me step forward and frowned slightly. “Why are you cutting in line?”
I froze, speechless. I’d assumed the court was the one dispensing porridge… “Ah.”
Seeing me at a loss softened her expression. She swiftly ladled a bowl of porridge for me and tucked a steamed bun into it.
“You can’t cut in next time. Give me the bowl when you’re done.”
“Mm.”
I took the bowl and noticed a pale wrist and nails tipped with a faint pink.
When I looked up, she was already busy again, not paying me any heed.
I walked back and handed the bowl to the old man I’d talked to earlier. He thanked me several times and hurried off to feed his grandson under the tree, spooning out the porridge in tiny portions.
The child was skin and bone. After a few sips he claimed he wasn’t hungry and insisted on taking turns with the old man drinking from the bowl.
I asked who was distributing the porridge. They said it was the Ding Trading House.
Her eyes kept replaying in my head, so I asked their names—Ding Trading House’s daughter: Evelyn Ding.
From that day I became a “refugee.”
I lived and ate with them. In less than five days I had a pretty complete understanding of South Town’s situation.
We were starving.
Two bowls of porridge and two steamed buns a day. One afternoon I sat by a tree when someone patted my shoulder.
I opened my eyes to those eyes that sparkled like stars. She handed me two pastries and had her maid—maid Clara—bring me a cup of tea.
“Are you an official checking the flood damage?” Her voice was like a fine instrument—natural and clear.
I tensed. I’d been considering what to do about her when she smiled and pointed at my hands.
“No calluses at all. Still, you’re something—really staying here to eat and sleep with them.”
Her words made my guard fall. I stopped pretending and lazily leaned against the tree, nodding toward the cup.
She sighed and told her maid to fill another bowl for me.
“It’s so bland.” I pretended to complain.
She ignored my mockery and, bright-eyed, said, “You must investigate properly. Bring down every official who treats the people like fish and meat!”
Her earnest, fiery words made me smile involuntarily. “All right.”
“If you’re hungry, come find me. I’ll make sure you have enough pastries.” She watched me hold the coarse pastry, then blinked shyly. “They taste okay—cough, cough.”
Before she left she stuffed the rest of the pastries into my hands.
The sky burned red as the sun set. Watching her carriage fade away, I felt inexplicably hollow.
I bit into one of the odd-shaped pastries.
Ugh. Terrible.
Back at the palace I reported the situation—but I didn’t mention that the Ding Trading House had sent porridge.
A merchant visibly caring for the refugees would make a convenient target. Even government officials ignored the refugees’ deaths; a merchant would be easy to attack.
The Emperor flew into a rage and ordered a full investigation.
South Town lay in Fourth Prince’s territory. The Fourth Prince thought I was deliberately targeting him; his eyes at court dripped with venom.
Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t touch me—yet.
The benefit of infiltrating as a refugee was that I learned the true faces quickly.
No matter how plausible they acted before us, toward the people they were a pack of beasts.
Collecting evidence took three months. Each crime I unearthed was enough to destroy a family.
There was even an assassination attempt.
Fourth Prince’s boldness exceeded my expectations.
When I reported it, thunderous fury followed—leading officials executed, families exiled, others punished as seen fit.
The Fourth Prince was put under house arrest for six months.
After court, the Emperor kept me behind and smiled: “Well done.”
I bowed and thanked him.
He coughed twice, then his eyes glinted with calculation. “Now who would dare to doubt your abilities?”
He laughed afterward like a man pleased with himself.
I was stunned. “Father knew about South Town?”
I asked incredulously.
He smiled but said nothing, and the truth was obvious enough.
I left the palace stiff with suspicion and anger. So all of this had been the Emperor’s deliberate letting things slide—just to pave the way for me.
Thinking of the corpses and the ruined streets of South Town, I closed my eyes against the pain.
Some of the bones were those of children who never grew up. They’d become nothing but a handful of soil.
On the way back to the manor I thought of her clear eyes again. She had told me to bring down those officials who treated the people like fish and meat.
And the source of all this filth… was my own family.
“Your Highness?” Maid Clara found me sitting stunned at my desk and stepped back quietly, leaving me space.
I sighed and pressed my temples.
What does it mean to be a sovereign? If I were truly in that seat, would I become like them?
I suddenly wanted to see her clean eyes again.
Luckily, she was easy to find—she often handled shop business herself and dealt with customers and the shopkeeper.
Clara looked at my dirty clothes and opened her mouth. “Should I go with you?”
“No. Follow her secretly.”
I found her at the Crimson Silk Pavilion negotiating with a customer. She wore a pale pink gown; her eyes glittered, a sly, fox-like spark at the corner. My heart softened, but then she looked over, puzzled. When she spotted me, her face brightened.
“I heard South Town was handled well and the trade routes reopened.”
She was as straightforward as ever. I, by contrast, hid behind these filthy clothes and watched from the shadows.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when I didn’t speak, then took me in from head to toe. “Why didn’t you change your clothes?”
I didn’t answer. “The mission didn’t go well.”
Her expression softened. “The people are praising it—how could it be bad?”
I had no words. “It seems the disaster started because of me.”
She froze. “How could a flood be because of you? Did you cut corners on the dam? That was a decade ago—you were still a child then, weren’t you?”
She leaned in, a faint scent of osmanthus drifting from her. My heart stumbled and I stepped back. “I mean… they looted and embezzled because my father implicitly allowed it. To pave a path for me.”
She looked puzzled. “Why would your father allow that?”
“To pave my way.”
She bit her lip, not fully understanding. I felt ridiculous, suddenly unable to say why I’d come at all. I turned to leave but she grabbed my sleeve.
“You knew about this?” Her eyes looked like they were on fire.
I shook my head.
She seemed sad—maybe mourning the flood victims—but she still patted my head the way she always did. “Don’t punish yourself for others’ sins. But if your father is wrong, he should be punished.”
Her words hit me. She didn’t know that the man who fathered me could not be punished.
A breeze lifted a stray lock of her hair. I felt a sudden jealous impulse toward the wind.
Afterwards I had Clara dig up more about her.
She had a fiancé—Qin Zizhu—taken in five years ago; he was a little younger.
No wonder she patted heads so naturally—she must do it with him often, soothing him like a child.
I checked the file and followed her again. The man in the shadow had his back to me so his face wasn’t visible.
But I could see the way her eyes shone with joy and devotion, and it tightened something in my chest.
If I’d met her earlier, would I have had a chance?
I closed my eyes and let go of the thought of forcing her. She didn’t know me, and I didn’t want to snuff out that light in her eyes.
She should run her business, marry the one she loved, and live happily.
Back at the manor I threw the file and my dirty clothes into the brazier and watched them burn, along with those inappropriate fantasies.
Then the Third Prince came back from the dead.
I read the secret letter and laughed. The man behind all this was Qin Zizhu.
No wonder Fourth Prince had been so bold—reaching into my manor, sending an assassin. I’d suspected Second Prince; who knew it would be a supposedly dead man stirring trouble.
“Your Highness, word of this has spread throughout the capital…” Clara said, worried.
I sneered. “No matter. I’ll go to the palace.”
Inside, the Emperor’s face was calm. “I will issue an edict shortly—Helena He will be granted to you.”
I frowned. “Helena He belongs to Third Prince.”
The Emperor sneered. “And she belonged to old He Kun’s heart—how could you refuse?”
I nodded, then a paperweight smashed onto the floor at my feet.
“Henry Yin, if not for your mother dying to give you life, do you think I’d have given you this throne? So tell me—will you marry or not?”
I pressed my lips together and said nothing.
The Emperor’s narrow eyes grew sharp. Years hadn’t dulled the edge from him; if anything, they’d added weight.
“Is someone in your heart?” he asked.
I thought of those clear eyes and shook my head. “I don’t want to achieve my ends by any means.”
The Emperor’s anger cracked into laughter as he pointed at me. “I shouldn’t have let you be born into privilege—pampered you into foolish innocence. Fine—then get out.”
I knelt to accept the decree. Objects clattered to the floor behind me.
The next day the Minister of Rites announced that my lineage was questionable.
The Emperor looked at me with a threat in his eyes—one last chance. Everyone assumed I was the child of him and the Empress, but I was actually the son of a woman he loved outside the palace. She died in childbirth.
Looking at my father’s face, I lowered my gaze. That day I was stripped of the crown prince title.
Not long after, my supporters began to waver.
I set about arranging an exit route with them, sitting quietly in the study drinking tea and eating pastries while Clara fretted.
“Your Highness, His Majesty doted on you—why this sudden change?” she asked.
I waved a hand. “Third Prince is returning. Help him.”
Clara gaped; she thought I’d gone mad.
But after everything that happened I knew that position was not for me. Call it selfishness if you like; call it failing to appreciate my blessings—I didn’t want to become like the Emperor.
His “kindness” to me was guilt, not love.
I had long known: my father married the Empress the night before my birth. My mother delivered me prematurely and died alone. That’s why he poured all his guilt into me—going so far as to give the Empress a potion to prevent her bearing more heirs.
In a way, my father and Third Prince were similar.
After that I was confined to the manor. My second brother died—cursed with some filthy disease. Fourth Brother was sent to his fief and put under house arrest.
I gave Clara’s indenture to him and told him to take Violet the Attendant and run—leave, don’t linger in front of me.
But he guessed something and refused to go.
The day Edward Yin reclaimed his identity he even came to greet me—an unthreatening, gentle face, like someone who hadn’t grown up.
His eyes seemed veiled, hard to read.
“Brother, it’s been so long. I’ve missed you.”
He smiled, but there was a viciousness in his eyes. I nodded. “I understand.”
Then he left. Annie quietly told me afterward that Edward Yin’s expression was terrifying.
I didn’t say anything.
Did Evelyn Ding know about this side of him?
The thought barely formed before I scoffed at myself — what did it matter to me… “Annie, I’m tired.”
Annie paused, surprised, and looked at me. I gave a bitter little smile.
He bowed and knelt beside me. “No matter how His Highness decides, Annie is still His Highness’s man.”
I watched him and closed my eyes.
Not long after, I forced the throne.
Father knew I wouldn’t truly do something like that, but he still “believed” it—probably because the third prince resembled him more.
Later, he looked at me as if peering through me at someone else. His voice was cold and oddly fond. “Your mother was that naive too, and her naivety killed her.”
I smiled and nodded. “Yes. She fell in love with a man like Your Majesty. But I’m curious—mother was living in a separate villa, cut off from news. How did she learn of Your Marriage?”
His expression darkened.
I kept smiling until tears threatened to spill and quietly studied his face.
Finally, he said nothing and swept his sleeve away.
As expected, he knew it wasn’t an accident.
My last hopes were utterly shattered. I drew a deep breath and told Annie, “Begin.”
The next day I went to see the woman I’d thought of constantly for the last time. She sat on a swing, cradling her belly and murmuring something, peach blossoms drifting around her.
I stared at that gentle face, trying to burn this moment into my memory.
Edward Yin would surely take her into the palace; the business had to end. But I knew his love for her was genuine—otherwise, with his temper, he would have erased the Ding Estate long ago.
So I could leave with a clear conscience.
A few months later, I forced the throne and died in the chaos.
After leaving the capital, I discovered how many beautiful things the world still held. I changed my appearance and settled in a simple, honest little village.
People there were kind, their eyes clean.
I removed my spies and stopped looking for news about her. But three years later, a villager’s gossip told me she was dead.
I had never regretted anything as much as then—regret that I hadn’t taken her with me.
That bright, pure gaze, the woman who lived in my thoughts for so long… really gone?
Suicide?
Or in that way, with no remains?
I sent Annie to investigate and learned how she had been worn down step by step until there was no way out.
Edward Yin couldn’t even protect their daughter?
The whole affair threw him into even greater turmoil. He grew more extreme, more paranoid.
Sometimes, even in court, he would suddenly break down and whisper tenderly to empty air, “Evelyn.”
He started wars with neighboring states; famine and suffering followed, and the flames of war eventually reached the little village where I lived.
At the same time, the He Household grew ever more tyrannical, and uprisings began among the people.
The Prime Minister came to find me, urging my return to court. I glanced at Annie; he lowered his head guiltily.
The Prime Minister sighed and told me the latest news.
Edward Yin had gone utterly mad—he actually killed Helena He right in the palace. When He Kun led troops into the palace, Edward was on the throne muttering to himself.
He Kun advanced, but fell into a trap and was locked down by hidden mechanisms. The He Household collapsed; their armies were leaderless, some scattered and turned bandit or joined the rebel forces.
Edward Yin spent his days either performing rituals or killing; his condition was unpredictable.
Listening, I asked calmly, “Where is Evelyn Ding’s body?”
The Prime Minister frowned. “Who is that?”
A sharp pain twisted in my chest and I shook my head.
Taking the throne went smoother than I’d expected. Edward’s cheeks were gaunt, his gaze vicious; long years of taking medicinals had left his face ashen.
When I saw him, he sat beneath a massive osmanthus tree and said he would die there.
I understood why, but I wouldn’t grant him the release. He didn’t deserve it.
I wanted him alive, to act the fool and suffer for the rest of his days.
Time flew. Twenty years passed. Edward Yin died, and I scattered his bones on the cold river—let him die without seeing her.
I never remarried. I adopted the fourth prince’s child.
At the time, his face twisted, thinking I planned something sinister, but I only needed someone with royal bloodline to inherit—anyone would do.
Fortunately, the fourth prince’s son, Henry Yin, wasn’t like his father. He was sharp, ambitious in quiet ways.
Amid his wailing, I became the retired emperor and took to traveling.
I’d heard rumors that Lotus Life Temple could grant any wish. I smiled but felt a small, unexpected hope.
Years of worry had drained me; my health was broken. Nearly a thousand stone steps nearly killed me.
Gasping at the temple entrance, a young monk suddenly appeared and told me the abbot had been expecting me a long time.
I was startled.
Word was that Abbot Lotus Life was nearly two hundred years old and never saw petitioners.
I entered and found only a youth—handsome features, a compassionate air that wasn’t cold.
He gave me a faint smile. “Henry Yin, you ruled for twenty years. The nation is at peace.”
I looked at him feeling cheated.
“You know me?”
He saw my disappointment and didn’t mind. He handed me a cup of tea. My hand trembled as I drank.
“What… is this?”
I felt worn out, my knuckles white from gripping the cup.
He remained gentle. “Would you like to make a wish?”
My fingers trembled, but I forced myself to reply, “Anything?”
“Anything.”
“Then I want her—peace and joy for her life.”
The abbot regarded me and slowly smiled. “So be it.”
The next day the retired emperor died. For some reason, a smile lingered on his face, as if his wish had finally come true.
He didn’t yet know that this “peace and joy” would cause Evelyn Ding to be reborn.
He couldn’t have known that after rebirth, their red threads would reweave together.
The End
