“Ah!”
Wen Ruochu was jolted awake by a shrill, agonizing scream. She sat up abruptly. “Did that crooked tour guide sell me to a scam compound?”
“Princess, you’re finally awake. Does your head still hurt?” A maid brought a cup of tea to Wen Ruochu. “That Shen Jinglan is truly ungrateful. Her Majesty deigned to show him favor, yet he didn’t know what was good for him. He dared to try and escape, even injuring you in the process. Her Majesty is disciplining him right now…”
Wen Ruochu looked on in a daze. She was a corporate drone. During the Lunar New Year, her company had provided a “perk”—the boss, in an attempt to save money, had booked a cheap tour group to a foreign country. The bus ride had been so boring that she’d fallen asleep while listening to a web novel.
Princess. Shen Jinglan. These were names from that book.
Could it be that she had transmigrated into the story?
She had become the early-death cannon fodder supporting character from the novel she had been listening to, The Emperor’s Darling—a princess who shared her name, Wen Ruochu.
In the book, Princess Wen Ruochu was deeply favored by the Empress. However, she was wholeheartedly devoted to Prince Rui, Ling Xuanche. To help the unfavored Ling Xuanche rise to power, she scoured the land for beautiful men to present to the sixty-year-old Empress as male concubines, using them as tools to secretly build connections and influence.
She had been calculating and ruthless, committing every kind of evil just to pave the way for Ling Xuanche. But she never knew that Ling Xuanche had long ago sworn his life to the female lead of the book—Wen Qingrou.
Wen Qingrou was Wen Ruochu’s younger sister, born of a concubine.
The Shen Jinglan mentioned by the maid just now was the novel’s villain. He was originally a hostage prince from a rival kingdom. Later, through a twist of fate, he was forced by Wen Ruochu to become the Empress’s male concubine. During his days of torment, he was occasionally helped by the female lead, Wen Qingrou, and the two became close friends.
On the day the Empress passed away, Wen Ruochu forged the imperial edict and staged a palace coup to help Ling Xuanche ascend the throne. Once he held absolute power, Ling Xuanche immediately crowned Wen Qingrou as Empress. Wen Ruochu, who had always been deeply in love with him, was only granted the lowly rank of a mere concubine.
During the chaos of the coup, Shen Jinglan escaped with Wen Qingrou’s help. He stole the tiger tally along the way and fled back to Yongguo. After killing his father and brothers to secure his throne, he led his army directly toward the capital of Dayu.
Seeing that war was inevitable, Empress Wen Qingrou personally went to the city walls. Relying on the past favor she had shown Shen Jinglan, she persuaded the three hundred thousand enemy troops to retreat, restoring peace between the two nations.
The common people all sang praises of Wen Qingrou’s virtuous name.
Wen Ruochu, however, was secretly handed over to Shen Jinglan. Ling Xuanche knew that Shen Jinglan harbored a bone-deep hatred for Wen Ruochu because she was the one who had offered him up as a male concubine.
And so, abandoned by everyone, Wen Ruochu was turned into a human pig. She suffered endless torture on the road and breathed her last before even reaching Yongguo.
Thinking of this, Wen Ruochu couldn’t help but shudder.
“That scream just now… was…” Wen Ruochu asked tremulously.
“Did Shen Jinglan disturb you, Your Highness? I shall go and report this immediately,” the maid said at once.
“No, no, no! Wait!” Wen Ruochu hurriedly stopped her.
It seemed the plot had reached the point where Shen Jinglan was about to be taken as a male concubine by the Empress.
An hour ago, during the Mid-Autumn palace banquet, the original Wen Ruochu had noticed the Empress glancing at Shen Jinglan more than once and had added fuel to the fire.
“I have heard that the hostage prince of Yongguo, Shen Jinglan, is exceptionally brilliant and that his sword dance is a sight to behold. It is a pity I have never had the chance to see it…”
The Empress, taking the hint, ordered Shen Jinglan to perform a sword dance for entertainment.
Sensing the Empress’s intent, Shen Jinglan used the opportunity to take Wen Ruochu hostage, attempting to flee.
The result, naturally, was failure.
Wen Ruochu had fainted from her injuries, and the Empress was flyng into a rage. At this moment, she was likely having Shen Jinglan severely tortured.
Another shrill scream drifted in intermittently. Wen Ruochu didn’t have time to recall more details from the book. Without even putting on her shoes, she ran toward the source of the sound and pushed the doors open.
Inside the great hall, the windows were covered with heavy curtains, leaving the room in dim light. A translucent screen stood near the entrance, through which the blurred silhouette of a man could be seen.
The man lay curled by the side of the bed. On the bluestone floor beneath him, a large pool of blood was slowly spreading. A eunuch raised a whip high and brought it down crisply across the man’s body.
The man gritted his teeth, letting out a muffled groan as the muscles of his back twitched from several overlapping wounds.
A sudden gust of cold wind blew in. The man’s eyelids fluttered open just a crack as he glanced toward the door. Strands of hair matted with dust and blood clung to his face. Though he looked to be at death’s door, barely breathing, his expression remained one of pure stubbornness.
Wen Ruochu stood at the entrance. That single look of utter loathing shot toward her, and she felt as if she were seeing her own future as a human pig.
This had to be Shen Jinglan.
Even through the translucent screen and in such a wretched state, one could tell that Shen Jinglan possessed a face of peerless beauty.
On the other side, an old woman in bright yellow dragon robes, her hair streaked with gray, reclined lazily on a chaise longue, dozing in a dignified yet aged manner.
Hearing the door open, the Empress lifted her eyelids and glanced at Wen Ruochu, her voice tinged with dissatisfaction.
“Always so reckless. What is it?”
The heavy scent of blood rushed into Wen Ruochu’s nose, reminding her that she was now in a feudal dynasty where the ruler held the power of life and death. People actually died here.
Wen Ruochu composed herself, stepped forward, and knelt before the Empress with a flattering smile.
“Little Chu knows she was wrong and begs for Grand-aunt’s forgiveness. Little Chu… has a matter she wishes for Your Majesty to grant.”
The Empress waved her hand at the eunuch. The suppressed screams ceased for a moment as she signaled Wen Ruochu to continue.
“Grand-aunt… the truth is, Little Chu is very fond of Shen Jinglan. Those words I said at the banquet were because I wanted to praise him first, and then ask Your Majesty to bestow him upon me…”
As soon as those words left her mouth, the surroundings grew even quieter. Only the faint crackling of the candle flames remained. The eunuchs and maids kept their heads bowed, not daring to breathe.
The Empress sat up, fixing Wen Ruochu with the heavy, pressuring gaze of a ruler.
“Are you speaking the truth?”
“Of course it is the truth.”
Fortunately, Wen Ruochu remembered a few scattered details about Shen Jinglan from the book. She raised her head and met the Empress’s gaze.
“Does Grand-aunt remember the case of the flower-thief that shook the capital in the thirteenth year of Zhaode? That thief committed dozens of crimes within a few months, victimizing many children of high-ranking officials. The Court of State Ceremonies and the Ministry of Justice investigated for days to no avail. Does Your Majesty know who finally captured that thief?”
The Empress gave a light hmph, seemingly having a deep impression of the case.
“The thief was left tied up at the gates of the Court of State Ceremonies. A note left with him claimed it was the work of a righteous hero of the martial world.”
“There was no hero. It was Shen Jinglan. He feared being accused of interfering in our empire’s internal affairs, so he captured the thief and left under the pseudonym of a martial artist.”
The Empress glanced at Shen Jinglan, her expression clearly becoming more serious. She looked at Wen Ruochu and asked, “How do you know this?”
“On that day, my carriage happened to pass by the Court of State Ceremonies. I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the hero’s back, and it looked very much like Shen Jinglan, so I took note of him.”
Wen Ruochu’s eyes sparkled, looking exactly like a woman falling in love.
“Until the Lantern Festival, when Shen Jinglan wrote a poem at the Baxian Pavilion: ‘To whom can I tell my endless yearning? Only the moon shines on Ruochu.’ I compared the handwriting to the note left with the thief. Shen Jinglan is indeed that hero from back then. He is brave, strategic, and brilliantly talented. And with the fate shared in that line about ‘Ruochu,’ I was truly moved.”
In reality, “Ruochu” in the poem was the name of the courtyard where Shen Jinglan had lived as a child, not her name. But to make the Empress believe her, Wen Ruochu forcibly applied the line to herself.
From the moment Wen Ruochu mentioned the flower-thief, Shen Jinglan’s ears had perked up. Hearing her blatantly twist the meaning of his poem, his face flickered with shock and suspicion. This wicked princess actually knew about the things he had done?
But how could she?
While Shen Jinglan was lost in confusion, he heard Wen Ruochu speak another earth-shattering sentence.
“I beg Your Majesty to decree a marriage for the two of us.”