Chapter 36#

But my sister-in-law has always been sharp as a tack and quick to grasp things, even across lifetimes. Even if she’d seen through my affair with the CEO of this dynasty, she’d never blurt it out rashly. And given my parents’ and brother’s imagination, there was no way they could have guessed the truth so early on.

I felt a mix of anxiety, panic, and utter bewilderment, yet obediently knelt before the ancestral tablets of the Liu family, awaiting my father’s reprimand.

He instructed my brother to close the door, then fixed me with a stormy stare for a long moment.

Then, he knelt beside me before the ancestral tablets, his face streaked with tears.

This turn of events left me utterly flummoxed. I stole a glance at my mother and brother, hoping they might offer some clue.

But when I looked up, I saw both of them weeping too.

Were this not the depths of ancient times, I’d suspect the hospital had diagnosed me with some ailment the family dared not reveal.

My father wept silently for a long while before finally reining in his emotions. Gritting his teeth, he declared: ‘The late Emperor left a posthumous decree, commanding His Majesty to wed you as Empress.’

What?!

Then my father proceeded to explain the situation in detail to my utterly bewildered self.

You see, hadn’t the late Emperor (for the third time) succumbed to a sudden stroke of death on the bed of the late Imperial Consort, who had already voluntarily buried herself alive with him?

His demise was so abrupt and unexpected that he left no will designating his successor. Chu Ruiyan ascended the throne without dispute precisely because he was both Crown Prince and the sole heir.

Who could have foreseen that whilst the late Emperor failed to draft a succession edict, on the very day of his demise he jointly issued an edict with the Minister of Rites and the Chief Secretary of the Hanlin Academy (official positions) conferring the title of Crown Princess Consort.

The edict’s gist was as follows:

The second child of the Liu family, though born a daughter, was raised as a son due to frail health from infancy. This matter was disclosed to His Majesty by Lord Liu when the eldest Miss Liu served as the Crown Prince’s companion in studies.

Over the years, the late Emperor observed that the eldest Miss Liu possessed gentle and compliant nature, noble character, and dignified bearing. Having grown up alongside the Crown Prince since childhood, she shared a profound bond with him, proving herself a most suitable companion.

This edict hereby commands the Imperial Astronomical Bureau to select an auspicious date, and the Ministry of Rites to prepare for the investiture and nuptial ceremonies. On that most propitious day, the Crown Prince shall wed the daughter of the Chancellor’s household as his Crown Princess.]

The late Emperor had issued this posthumous decree but passed away that very night before it could be proclaimed in court.

Yet this imperial edict concerning the position of Empress had already been drafted and sealed with the imperial jade seal. Neither the Minister of Rites nor the Chief Secretary of the Hanlin Academy dared to suppress it. After the three-month mourning period for Chu Ruiyan concluded, the two presented the matter during the morning court session today.

Thereupon, His Majesty ordered a search of the Imperial Study, whereupon the posthumous edict was indeed discovered.

Thus, His Majesty had no choice but to issue an edict in court, instructing the Imperial Astronomical Bureau and the Ministry of Rites to oversee the coronation rites. On an auspicious day, the eldest daughter of the Prime Minister’s household, Miss Liu, would be crowned Empress.

After hearing my father’s words, one thought occupied my mind—

When the Emperor’s heart grows dark, there truly is no limit to his depravity.

In this lifetime, I’ve spent over a decade as the second young master of the renowned Prime Minister’s household, a name that echoes throughout the capital. To suggest I’ve been disguised as a man? One would have to be utterly blind and deaf to believe such nonsense.

Had this imperial decree been issued by Chu Ruiyuan himself, the censors and virtuous officials of this dynasty would have harangued him relentlessly—accusing him of personal misconduct and even demanding he prostrate himself before the imperial pillar in protest. Do you believe it?!

But the crux lies in this decree being the late emperor’s ‘posthumous edict.’

By ancient custom, had it remained undiscovered or discreetly disposed of, that would have been that. Yet once unearthed by some meddlesome minister, it was seldom disregarded.

If such a will undermined the state’s foundations or the legitimacy of the successor’s throne, it might be manageable. The entire court would kneel in prolonged prostration, weeping bitterly, and the new emperor would be compelled to heed the people’s (or rather, the court’s) will, treating the will as mere scrap paper.

The problem is, this late emperor’s ‘posthumous decree’ commands the new emperor to take a male consort as his queen.

Refrain from protesting, and the current sovereign’s union with a man would bring shame upon the dynasty.

Protest, however, and declare it a forged decree—yet the emperor has already authenticated it with his seal. Accuse Chancellor Liu of deceiving the sovereign by passing off a son as a daughter, while the late emperor, for years unable to distinguish between male and female, has now meddled in matchmaking…

That would bring even greater shame upon our illustrious empire than remaining silent.

Moreover, the crucial point is that His Majesty, the CEO of this dynasty, has already readily agreed. To now declare all this nonsense would be slapping both the late and current emperors in the face.

Thus, I reckon these shrewd individuals who’ve managed to enter the court as officials, having weighed the pros and cons, will simply remain as quiet as chickens.

If the other officials in court remained silent, my father certainly couldn’t speak up.

The ‘imperial decree’ stated that he had informed the late emperor that I was female. Whether that was true or not, he must bear the blame.

My father couldn’t even protest his own innocence. He couldn’t even say that his own household had a second son, not an eldest daughter. To do so would be to admit he deceived the late emperor.

The punishment for that? At best, his head would roll; at worst, my entire family would be executed.

Thus, my father now seeks to alter the family genealogy, expelling this ‘eldest daughter’ from the Liu clan’s registry.

Tsk.

This preference for sons over daughters is utterly reprehensible.

Still, I must admit, Chu Ruiyuan truly lives up to his reputation as a CEO who has reincarnated. His heart is as black as coal, and his methods are ruthlessly efficient.

To have the Minister of Rites and the head of the Hanlin Academy forge the imperial edict alongside him the moment he ascended the throne—that surely means he’d been quietly cultivating his own faction long before. Quite unlike his strained position when he first became emperor in his previous life.

After altering the genealogy, Father shed a few more tears before comforting me.

He mentioned that after court today, Chu Ruiyan had summoned him first to the Secretariat Chamber for a private audience.

The crux of the discussion was that the current Emperor knew my father was innocent. In truth, the late Emperor had taken a folk remedy for longevity in the days before his passing, which occasionally caused mental confusion. This ‘imperial decree’ and the sudden illness might well be connected to that concoction.

Yet with the late Emperor gone and the edict issued, subjects could not defy the late sovereign’s will. Thus, I was compelled to marry into the imperial family—a man bearing a woman’s name.

However, the current Emperor, moved by compassion, granted me special permission to ‘dress as a woman’ in daily life and exempted me from the strict palace regulations imposed upon ordinary consorts.

When my father spoke of this, his face was etched with profound gratitude towards Chu Ruiyuan.

Even my mother and brother wore expressions as though they were prepared to lay down their lives to repay the imperial grace.

Only I, while putting on a show of gratitude, was inwardly scoffing.

The sole consolation was that my sister-in-law, being with child, was not present.

Had her piercing gaze fallen upon me, I doubt I could have sustained the charade.

Chu Ruiyuan declared he would compensate me, and thus bestowed upon me the title of Empress.

Truly befitting the style of this dynasty’s number one domineering CEO.

A world apart from the one who had exploited me for so long in my previous life.

This top-tier tycoon, during the morning court session the very next day, ordered the Imperial Astronomical Bureau to propose an auspicious date. The Chief Astrologer promptly declared the coronation should be set for three months hence, the eighth day of the eighth lunar month.

The moment I heard this date—the very one my father and brother had relayed upon returning home—I knew the auspiciousness hadn’t been determined by the Bureau’s celestial observations. It had been concocted by this dynasty’s CEO, brewed with jealousy.

Not content with having turned me from groom to bride in our first lifetime, he now sought to legitimately make me his bride in this one.

Even after two lifetimes, he still dwelled on past grievances. I still didn’t tell him that our first meeting in the previous life had also been on the eighth day of the eighth month.

Speaking of Fang Xueying, judging by the pattern that neither my sister-in-law nor Dugu Yan reincarnated, he likely hasn’t either.

I’d considered bringing him to the Fang household early to spare him years of feudal moralistic torment, but given Chu Ruiyuan’s jealousy, I reckon it’s best not to court death.

So this former gold-chain-wearing country bumpkin must endure a few more years as a proper young lady. Once his father is transferred to the capital, I’ll see what avenues I can explore to rescue him.