Chapter 15: Being An Empress is a Dangerous Business.

By the time Feng Zhao Wen returned, Consort De had already left. He sat on the dragon bed and pulled me out of the quilt I was nestling on. He placed me onto his embrace like I was a little child. He pinched my face a little as he spoke: “What are you thinking about?” I sighed in sorrow, “Your …

Chapter 14: The Art of Burning the Bridges.

While I was being deceived into thinking that the snooping Feng Zhao was there for the peaceful relationship of our two countries and send him off, Yan Ping turned around first and ignored me, leaving me alone outside the city. I quickly turned my horse around and followed him. I thought the way he burnt the bridges after crossing them …

Chapter 13: An Yi’s Expectation in Life

Upon reaching my family’s manor, I jumped down my horse and politely bid Feng Zhao Wen goodbye. “No rush! No rush! This prince will only leave once General An enters.” I wanted to rid myself off this baggage quick; so I pounded on the door before repeatedly yelling, “Uncle Tong, open the door!” The door squeaked open as a latch …

Chapter 12: Not Having Appetite was a Small Matter

The next day after my first meeting with Feng Zhao Wen that year, I was playing with Xiao Huang in the Eastern Palace when we received a decree from the emperor. The Crown Prince of the Great Qi travelled far to get here; and since the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace was unhealthy, His Majesty instructed a couple of …

Chapter 11: Let The Fight Gets Even Fiercer

I suffered from Feng Zhao Wen’s heartless oppression in Zhong Hua Palace. My life was similar to that of a slave’s; I couldn’t escape that virile man’s advances. I had been depressed for days now. Perhaps Feng Zhao Wen pitied me for being bullied so miserably and thought that my will to fight wasn’t that vigorous anymore; he treated me …

Chapter 10: Who is the Obstacle of Who

Zhong Hua Hall was bright, like it was in the middle of broad daylight, I paced in front of the door four to five times. I peeked inside the hall, Feng Zhao Wen was busy criticizing memorials. Not far from where he sat, a round table full of four dishes and one soup laid cold. I was staring at the …