Qin Fei’s maid was quick-witted and rushed to say, “Our princess has always been healthy. For the Third Princess to make her faint from anger—surely Young Master Song never imagined you had such power, Your Highness.”
“Nonsense! It was clearly Eighth Sister who fainted on her own.” Qin Xiu quickly pressed her forehead. “Ah Bi, my head hurts so much.”
Ah Bi immediately supported her and led her away in the opposite direction. “Princess, this servant will take you back to see the imperial physician.”
Once their footsteps faded, the maid gently shook Qin Fei. “Your Highness, Your Highness.”
Qin Fei whispered, “Have they gone?”
“They’ve gone.”
Only then did Qin Fei climb up from the ground, brushing the dust off her clothes.
The maid asked in puzzlement, “Your Highness, won’t you go complain to the officials?”
“Complain?” Qin Fei countered. “Complaints should be made to someone fair. How can the biased uphold justice? They might even think I’m stirring up trouble for nothing.”
The maid grew even more bewildered. “Your Highness, why are you suddenly so clever today?”
Qin Fei studied her. From what she’d observed, the other maids were all afraid of her, but this one didn’t seem to be. “Are you my confidante?”
The maid frowned. “No.”
Qin Fei was astonished. “Then who is my confidante?”
Usually, these vicious little cannon-fodder characters had some scheming sidekick egging them on, didn’t they?
The maid shook her head. “You have no confidante. You once said the most reliable person in the world is yourself.”
Others only became malicious because someone pushed them into it. But this original body was simply rotten to the core.
“What’s your name?” Qin Fei asked.
“Er Ya,” the maid replied.
Qin Fei paused. “Such a plain, honest name. Who gave it to you?”
“It was the name of the dog you raised before. After the dog died, you bestowed the name upon this servant.”
“…”
Qin Fei felt an inexplicable pang of guilt. She patted Er Ya’s shoulder. “Would you be willing to become my confidante?”
Er Ya asked, “What would I need to do?”
Qin Fei narrowed her eyes. “Spy on the enemy, swap things under their noses, pull off a ‘switching the prince with a civet cat’ scheme…”
Er Ya: “I can’t do that.”
“You didn’t let me finish.” Qin Fei smiled. “All those harmful schemes—I’d never make you do them.”
Er Ya leaned forward. “Then what is it?”
“As long as you’re my wingman, helping me marry into the Cen household and live like a salted fish—eating well, drinking well—you’ll share in the good life too, Sister Er Ya.” Qin Fei winked at her.
Er Ya’s expression grew grave. After a moment’s thought, she asked, “What’s a salted fish?”
“Not important.” Qin Fei pointed out, “The key is the sentence before that.”
Er Ya: “And what’s a wingman?”
Qin Fei waved to the eunuchs carrying the sedan chair. “Back to the palace. I’m tired.”
Though the novel’s description of the original body was rather sketchy, her food, clothing, and daily luxuries were anything but lacking.
Qin Fei wandered through the Baohua Palace: glazed tiles, golden brick walls, fox‑fur carpets, a rosewood canopy bed, countless gold hairpins, jade rings, and fine porcelain.
They say money solves ninety‑nine percent of the world’s problems.
Suddenly, Qin Fei felt that staying in the palace wasn’t so bad after all—she was almost reluctant to leave.
Thinking it over, this “dog emperor” might have been smothering her with favor, but the material comforts were undeniable—no wonder the original thought her father had his reasons for sending her off in a marriage alliance. Anyone living in this golden cage would be confused.
As Qin Fei rifled through the dressing table, she lifted her gaze to the bronze mirror and froze.
The scarlet gown was striking, but the beauty in the mirror was even more dazzling: snow‑white skin, flower‑like features, bright brows and eyes, every smile and frown brimming with charm. The shadow of her hair against her cheeks, the fragrance of her clothes—she was the very picture of allure.
Qin Fei suddenly understood why, when she praised Qin Xiu earlier, the other thought she was mocking her. With this face, the original had still been reduced to cannon fodder. So this was what “beauty doomed to misfortune” meant.
“Your Highness, the consort has arrived.” Er Ya came in to announce, while Qin Fei was still admiring her reflection. Hearing the word “consort,” she was momentarily confused. “Which consort?”
Er Ya: “Consort Shen.”
Consort Shen… oh.
Her mother. Unlike the original owner, she was cautious and timid, barely mentioned in the book. If memory served, she was frail, and after the original died in the marriage alliance, she too passed away from illness.
Just as Qin Fei was thinking this, a graceful woman in her thirties stepped across the threshold. Beautiful still, and Qin Fei finally understood how the Emperor could sire such a stunning daughter.
“Mother Consort.” Qin Fei ran over, warmly taking Consort Shen’s hand, acting the part. “What brings you to see me today?”
Consort Shen frowned. “You’ve never called me ‘Mother Consort’ before.”
…?
Qin Fei hesitated. “Mother?”
Er Ya reminded her, “Your Highness, the last time you called her Consort was when you were eight years old.”
Qin Fei never imagined that the original body had such a poor relationship with Consort Shen.
Consort Shen froze for a long time, then gripped Qin Fei’s hand tightly.
“Did you suffer grievance today in the Zichen Hall? I’ve already heard—your father has issued a marriage decree. In one month, you are to wed Perceptor Cen.”
A spark of joy lit Qin Fei’s heart. “One month later? So soon, it’s already settled?”
Consort Shen pulled her toward the door. “Let’s go find your father. Even if I have no family to rely on, I would risk my life rather than let you be married off so unclearly.”
Wasn’t the novel’s Consort Shen described as timid and fearful? Yet for her daughter, she could be so bold. It made Qin Fei think of her own family. Her father had died early, and her mother favored her younger brother. Since childhood, all the good food went to him. In high school, when her uniform tore, classmates mocked her for two years, and her mother scolded her bitterly for “showing off.”
In ordinary families, a child’s admission to university was cause for celebration. But when she got in, her mother refused to pay tuition, forcing her to drop out so her brother could study instead. “Girls don’t need education,” she said. “You’ll marry anyway.”
Later, it was her martial arts brothers who pooled money to support her for two years. She worked part‑time, scrimped and saved, repaid them, and funded herself through graduation. Yet all that hardship only earned her mother’s scorn: accusing her of seducing men, saying that since she was a “fox spirit,” she should cling to a rich patron, so her brother’s expenses would be covered.
Ironically, Qin Fei now felt a pang of envy for the original body. At least she had a mother willing to risk everything for her.
Perhaps some remnant of the original’s consciousness stirred—her heart ached dully. She quickly held Consort Shen’s hand. “Mother Consort, it is my own wish to marry Perceptor Cen.”
Consort Shen didn’t believe it. “You never liked him. How could you be willing? Besides, the Cen household is a dragon’s lair—you could never survive there. I would rather you marry into the Song family.”
So Consort Shen understood the stakes too. Qin Fei sighed and explained: “Mother Consort, Qin Xiu likes Song Jinglan. Father will never marry me into the Song family. And compared to Song Jinglan, Cen Hejue truly is the better choice. The world is too chaotic now, the nation unstable. Cen Hejue holds great power—he can protect me.”
Consort Shen hadn’t expected Qin Fei to see through the emperor’s intentions, nor that her daughter—once so thoughtless—could make such a clear decision. “But you…”
“Mother Consort, don’t worry. I only act unruly on the surface. When it matters, I know what choice to make. I once liked Song Jinglan, but later I realized he was scheming. He approached me only to use me. Such a man—I will not love again. He is not worthy of my love.”
Consort Shen had long known Song Jinglan’s motives, but Qin Fei had been too entangled to break free. She had never found the words to persuade her. Now she felt both relieved that her daughter could see through his hypocrisy and worried. “But Cen Hejue is deeply calculating, ruthless in his methods. Will he truly treat you well?”
Qin Fei truly felt helpless. Consort Shen didn’t understand—if she didn’t choose the Cen family’s dragon’s‑den, then the marriage alliance awaiting her would be the cruelest path of all.
“Your daughter will do her best.” Qin Fei forced a smile. “Besides, I’m a princess. No matter how capable Cen Hejue is, he can’t just kill me.”
Better that than dying on the road to a foreign marriage.
“Enough.” Consort Shen dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief. “I am of little influence and cannot help you. Since you’ve thought it through, I won’t try to persuade you further. Rest well—tomorrow you still have lessons. I won’t disturb you.”
Lessons? Qin Fei’s mind short‑circuited.
After Consort Shen left, she grabbed Er Ya. “I still have classes?”
Er Ya lifted her chin. “Why does the princess look unhappy? Didn’t you change your mind about marrying into the Cen family? Perceptor Cen is the one who teaches you. Isn’t this the perfect chance to get close to him?”
That was true. Though Qin Fei hadn’t studied in years, this was indeed a good opportunity to approach Cen Hejue.
Earlier, she had acted calm before Consort Shen, but inwardly, she was uneasy. Cen Hejue was, after all, a villain—his temperament unpredictable. If she wanted to survive in the Cen household, she needed to understand his methods better.
The next morning, just before dawn, Er Ya dragged her out of bed. With sheer willpower, Qin Fei managed to stumble to Mingxin Hall.
According to Er Ya, Mingxin Hall was where princes and princesses studied—essentially, their school. She followed Er Ya inside, but before she could even step across the threshold, a thick book came hurtling toward her face. If that hit, her looks would be ruined.
Instinctively, Qin Fei lifted her leg high and kicked the book back, striking the girl who had thrown it squarely on the forehead.
A scream rang out—and at the same time, a voice behind her, suspicious and cool: “You know martial arts?”
She turned and met Cen Hejue’s gaze. The man was strikingly handsome, refined in bearing, but his dark, fathomless eyes were enough to make her heart quail.
Damn. She had trained for years, and her reaction had been pure instinct. She hadn’t expected Cen Hejue to witness it. She hadn’t even begun her plan to get close to him— and already her persona had collapsed on the spot.