2
“I won’t provoke you anymore. When I see you, I’ll steer clear, just like before.” Yang Jinhui quickly conceded, understanding the importance of self-preservation. Her voice carried a tone of pleading as she begged for mercy.
But Yu Shu seemed deaf to her words. Instead, she tightened her grip on Yang Jinhui’s hair, pressing the hairpin in her hand dangerously close to Yang Jinhui’s neck. The sharp point almost pierced her skin, and Yang Jinhui could feel the stinging pain spreading across her neck. Terrified, she stammered, her voice trembling. “Yu Shu… No, Ninth Princess, please spare me! I’m begging you! You know your family is all but gone now and if you kill me, you won’t survive either. It’s not worth it for you! You know I’m the Emperor’s most beloved adopted sister and the future Empress. If you let me go, I’ll plead with the emperor to grant you the title of consort. Wouldn’t that fulfill your wish? You’ve always wanted to marry him, haven’t you?”
“I don’t care for that!” Yu Shu interrupted coldly, her voice filled with icy disdain.
Yang Jinhui froze in disbelief. If even the position of consort wasn’t enough to move Yu Shu, then what was? Could she truly be planning to kill her?
In the blink of an eye, Yang Jinhui’s survival instincts kicked in. Desperately trying another tactic, she said. “Think about your father, your mother, and your elder brother, the Crown Prince. They loved you so much. They would want you to live well!”
She continued, her voice urgent. “Do you remember what your Crown Prince brother told you? He wanted you to live, to live well. If you kill me now, you won’t survive either. This won’t benefit you at all! Please, think carefully—don’t do something you’ll regret and betray their hopes for you!”
Yu Shu’s mind echoed with memories of her Crown Prince brother’s words. Live well, Yu Shu. Promise me you’ll live well. Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, cascading down her face.
Her grip on the hairpin loosened, and her trembling hands could barely hold onto it anymore. Her tears flowed uncontrollably.
A flash of imperial yellow swept into view as a figure hurried toward her with an entourage. His eyes fixed on Yu Shu as he approached her with steady, deliberate steps. Reaching out his hand, his voice, uncharacteristically gentle, urged her. “Yu Shu, put down the hairpin. Let’s talk, calmly.”
Yu Shu looked at Xiao Jingyao through her tears, her vision obscured by the shimmering drops. Before she could fully process what was happening, the next moment passed in a blur. Xiao Jingyao closed the distance between them in an instant, seizing her wrist with a firm grip. With a sharp twist, pain shot through her arm, and the hairpin slipped from her grasp, landing securely in Xiao Jingyao’s hand.
Yang Jinhui was immediately rescued. She turned around and, without hesitation, slapped Yu Shu hard across the face. The sharp sound echoed in the air as she spat venomously. “This is payback!”
Yu Shu’s mind went blank, her mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.
“Your Majesty, she just held me hostage and tried to kill me! You must seek justice for me!” Yang Jinhui clung to Xiao Jingyao’s arm, crying pitifully as she complained, her voice full of grievance.
Yu Shu watched the scene unfold in front of her, feeling nothing but mockery and bitterness. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, though the pain was too sharp for her to truly smile.
It hurt too much to pretend.
Not wanting to witness Yang Jinhui’s pitiful act or hear her cloying complaints to Xiao Jingyao any longer, Yu Shu pulled free from Xiao Jingyao’s hand. Without sparing them a glance, she turned and walked away, her face cold and emotionless.
“Yu Shu…” Xiao Jingyao called out behind her, but she didn’t respond.
Yang Jinhui clung to Xiao Jingyao’s arm with all her strength, crying even harder, her voice trembling as she repeated. “Your Majesty, she just tried to kill me! You must take this matter seriously…” Before she could finish, her emotions overwhelmed her, and she fainted. Gasps and exclamations erupted from those around her, throwing the scene into chaos.
None of it mattered to Yu Shu. The noise behind her couldn’t stir the slightest ripple of interest within her. All she felt was exhaustion, a bone-deep weariness that weighed her down. Her body felt heavy, her head throbbed, and her face stung. Even the strength to walk back to Anyi Palace seemed beyond her.
The road back to her palace felt endless, stretching on and on. Eventually, Yu Shu couldn’t take another step. Leaning against the cold palace wall for support, she slid down to a crouch, her body too drained to go any further.
The palace path, which Yu Shu had walked countless times, was paved with gray tiles, each piece fitted together with cracks where tiny green shoots had sprouted. As she stared down at them, her tears silently began to fall.
Behind her, footsteps approached—the sound so familiar it felt etched into her very bones.
Xiao Jingyao walked up and gently scooped Yu Shu into his arms. Leaning close to her ear, he spoke softly. “I’ll take you back.”
Yu Shu didn’t resist. She truly couldn’t walk any farther. Limp and weightless, she let herself rest against his chest, closing her eyes as she whispered. “It hurts… I’m so tired.”
“Then sleep if you’re tired,” Xiao Jingyao murmured, pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head. His eyes held a tenderness she couldn’t see.
He carried her all the way back to Anyi Palace. Once inside, he carefully placed her on the bed. Reaching out, he gently touched the swelling on her face. Yu Shu winced, drawing a sharp breath from the pain. She raised her hand and swatted his away, refusing to let him touch her again.
“I’ll call the imperial physician to take a look.” Xiao Jingyao said, his brows furrowed deeply with concern as he took in her reddened, swollen face.
The chief physician from the Imperial Medical Bureau soon arrived. After a thorough examination, he prescribed medicine for Yu Shu—some to be applied externally and some to be taken internally.
Yu Shu glanced at the physician, her tone skeptical. “The external medicine is for my facial injuries. What’s the internal medicine for?” She didn’t think she needed to take any pills.
The physician respectfully explained, “The princess is overly burdened with worries. This prescription is to calm your mind and soothe your nerves.”
“Alright.” She agreed reluctantly. Lately, her mood had indeed been poor. Sleepless nights plagued by nightmares had left her drained.
“You can go now,” Yu Shu said, waving dismissively at the physician.
Xiao Jingyao, still holding her gently, coaxed softly, “Once the medicine is ready, drink it, and then get a good night’s sleep.”
Yu Shu cast him a faint glance, saying nothing in response.
Her indifference didn’t faze Xiao Jingyao in the slightest. A gentle smile lingered on his face as he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her eyelids.
Before long, a palace maid entered, carrying a bowl of freshly prepared medicine.
Xiao Jingyao affectionately patted Yu Shu’s head, his tone doting as he said. “Be good and drink the medicine. After that, I’ll give you a candied jujube.”
Was he treating her like a child? Yu Shu shot Xiao Jingyao a sidelong glance.
“I can drink it myself,” she said, taking the bowl from the maid. Tilting her head back, she downed the bitter liquid in a few swift gulps.
“Good girl.” Xiao Jingyao’s smile deepened as he reached out to ruffle her hair again, his touch brimming with tenderness.
“I…” Yu Shu barely managed to utter a word before blood gushed from her mouth.
Xiao Jingyao’s face paled instantly. Wrapping her tightly in his arms, he shouted in panic. “Someone! Summon the imperial physician immediately!”
Blood flowed from Yu Shu’s lips in heavy, crimson streams. With the last ounce of her strength, she pushed herself out of Xiao Jingyao’s embrace. Her gaze locked onto his frantic, helpless expression. Then, with a bitter, mocking smile, she said. “In the end, you still avenged her. I’m returning this life to you…”
…
A butterfly flitted into the air, its wings spreading as it flew westward, disappearing into the distance.
Outside the window, birds chirped melodiously, their songs rising and falling in a joyous harmony, as if hosting a lively concert.
When Yu Shu opened her eyes again, she found herself in a completely unfamiliar room. Embroidered curtains adorned with exotic flowers and plants hung around her, and the canopy above the bed was decorated with two colorful embroidered balls. The quilt covering her wasn’t her usual silk blanket but was instead made of pure white fox fur. Even the clothes on her body were different from what she used to wear.
A flood of foreign memories suddenly surged through her mind, leaving her stunned. It all became clear—she didn’t belong to this world. She had transmigrated into a novel, a historical romance filled with heartbreak and tragedy.
She had taken the identity of a cannon fodder supporting character with the same name as hers—Yu Shu, the Ninth Princess of the Dayan Dynasty.
In the original story, the Ninth Princess was deeply in love with the male lead, Xiao Jingyao, to the point of obsession. But Xiao Jingyao had used her family as stepping stones to ascend the throne, ultimately poisoning her to death with a single bowl of medicine.
Her death left barely a ripple in Xiao Jingyao’s heart.
As the emperor, Xiao Jingyao continued his reign without the slightest pause, ruling over the world while indulging in the company of countless beauties, his arms always filled with others.
Ugh! Scumbag!
Yu Shu despised nothing more than a lousy man. Back when she first read the novel, she was so disgusted by the male lead’s behavior—becoming emperor, poisoning the Ninth Princess to death, and then receiving women from opportunists eager to curry favor—that she quit reading halfway and abandoned the book in frustration.
Months later, curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to check on how the story ended. To her annoyance, she discovered the author had dropped the novel, leaving it hanging right at the part where women were being offered to the male lead.
At that moment, she couldn’t help but curse: What kind of trash author leaves their readers stranded like this?!
Little did she expect that after closing her eyes one day, she would be reborn as the ill-fated Ninth Princess. Worse, she ended up reliving all of the character’s tragic experiences firsthand, enduring sixteen excruciating years of life.
According to the usual transmigration trope, her death should have sent her back to her original world. But for some reason—whether it was the Ninth Princess’s lingering resentment or some deep-seated grudge—she didn’t return. Instead, she transmigrated again, right into the same cursed novel, this time as another character: the youngest princess of Xijiang.
A ridiculous thought crossed Yu Shu’s mind: Is this some sort of karmic joke? Am I addicted to playing the role of a cannon-fodder character? Why am I stuck in an endless loop in this damn book?!
“Princess, you’re awake.”
As Yu Shu simmered in her indignation, a maidservant entered the room carrying a basin of water. She placed it and a cloth on a stand before wringing out the cloth to gently wipe Yu Shu’s face.
“The Queen just sent someone to pass a message. She asked for you to come to Yilan Pavilion in a little while,” the maid, Qingli, reported.
Yu Shu’s long lashes fluttered as she processed this. Based on the original owner’s memories, she had a vague guess about what this might be about, though she wasn’t entirely certain.
“Did Mother say why she wants to see me?”
Qingli shook her head. “The Queen didn’t say, Princess. You’ll find out once you get there.”
Yu Shu pursed her lips. Well, I’m already here. Might as well go with the flow and see what happens.
She rose from the bed and walked over to the vanity table, taking a seat in front of the bronze mirror. When her reflection came into view, she froze, utterly stunned by what she saw.
It was uncanny.
Her current appearance bore a striking resemblance to her original self—at least seven or eight parts similar. The same eyes, the same nose, the same lips. If she didn’t know for sure that her mother in her previous life had only given birth to one daughter, she might have wondered if this body she’d transmigrated into belonged to her biological sister.
But, of course, Yu Shu didn’t have a sister.
She stared at the girl in the bronze mirror, her mind drifting as she mentally compared her current appearance with her former one. Apart from slightly lighter eyebrows and a small mole on the tip of her nose, this face was nearly identical to her original one. It was as if they had been cast from the same mold.
This is incredible. How could two people in the world look so alike?
Then again, Yu Shu thought, she had already transmigrated once—born into another life, died, and transmigrated again, all within the same novel. In a world this vast, with so many inexplicable mysteries, what was so strange about two people looking alike?
With that thought, she calmed down, accepting this as yet another oddity in her already bizarre journey.
“Princess, your hair is done.” Qingli quickly finished styling Yu Shu’s hair and brought over a veil to help her put it on.
Yu Shu knew from the original owner’s memories that wearing a veil was a longstanding tradition in Xijiang for unmarried women, one that had been upheld for over a century.
Once she was properly dressed, Yu Shu set out with Qingli to Yilan Pavilion to meet the Queen.
The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of flowers, and birds chirped cheerfully in the trees. The path leading to the pavilion was surrounded by colorful blooms, creating a stunningly picturesque scene.
Yu Shu followed the stone path lined with vibrant flowers for about fifteen minutes before arriving at Yilan Pavilion.
Inside, the Queen wasn’t alone—the King of Xijiang was there as well.
Relying on the memories left by her body’s original owner, Yu Shu walked forward slowly and gracefully, performing the Xijiang etiquette to greet the Queen and the King.
“Rise,” the Queen said gently, exchanging a glance with the King before beckoning Yu Shu closer. “Xiao Jiu, come to Mother.”
Hearing the Queen call her “Xiao Jiu,” Yu Shu froze for a moment. Back in Dayan, she had also been called “Xiao Jiu” by her parents and older brothers. The nickname carried a special warmth, as if her loved ones were still alive and everything was as it had been.
But Yu Shu knew all too well that Dayan no longer existed. Her father, mother, and doting brothers were all gone, and she herself had died—only to come back to life in someone else’s body. She was no longer the “Xiao Jiu” she used to be.
The Queen of Xijiang calling her “Xiao Jiu” was simply because Yu Shu had taken over the body of her youngest daughter, the Ninth Princess of Xijiang. It wasn’t the same at all.
Yu Shu quickly regained her composure and, imitating the original owner’s demeanor, cheerfully walked to the Queen’s side. Leaning close to her, she asked sweetly. “Did Mother summon me for something important?”
The Queen of Xijiang had delicate, elegant features, her arched willow-leaf eyebrows adding to her beauty. Her gaze toward Yu Shu was warm, filled with affection and indulgence.
“My beautiful daughter,” the Queen said, her voice tender and full of emotion. Tears glistened in her gentle eyes as she held Yu Shu’s hand. “Your father and I have discussed this thoroughly, and this is something only you can do. We’ve been left with no choice, and it breaks our hearts to make such a decision. We truly can’t bear to part with you.”
“What exactly is it?” Yu Shu asked, a sense of unease rising in her chest. The Queen’s hesitant expression only made her more anxious.
Under Yu Shu’s intense, questioning gaze, the Queen hesitated for a long moment, clearly struggling before finally revealing the truth.
As soon as Yu Shu heard it, her eyes widened in shock. “You’re sending me to marry the new Emperor of Daxia, Xiao Jingyao, in an alliance marriage?” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.
**