Wu Linxuan was, after all, a normally developing young man. The more he loathed and suppressed certain thoughts, the more they rebounded fiercely.
The bruises on his legs took over ten days to fade. During this time, Xin Ya had been sending him letters, intentionally or not, mentioning how the Dream Consort often gazed in the direction of his courtyard with tears in her eyes.
Wu Linxuan figured he must have heard too much about the "Dream Consort" during the day, which was why he had that dream—the one where he lifted her bed curtains that night and stayed to help her.
Disgusted with himself, he got up to drink water, standing barefoot on the cold floor as he gulped down stale tea from the night before. Yet, it did nothing to quell the restlessness in his heart.
He didn’t call any maids to change the bedding. Instead, like a guilty thief, he bundled the soiled sheets and trousers together and threw them on the floor, then tossed a candle onto them and set them ablaze.
But this act of self-deception was utterly foolish. The moment the fire caught, no maids came—instead, Chen Yuan and a dozen of his personal guards, tasked with protecting him, rushed into the room first.
Wu Linxuan nearly choked on his water, spraying it out through his nose. He forbade them from putting out the fire, then stormed off to a side chamber with a darkened expression.
A man’s body could only supply blood to one place at a time, and Wu Linxuan was no exception. His mind was currently functioning at a level close to that of an idiot, and realizing this only infuriated him further, making him even dumber.
Chen Yuan and the guards, fearing the fire might spread, gathered around and obediently burned Wu Linxuan’s "evidence," poking at it with sticks now and then to ensure it burned thoroughly, as if performing a funeral rite.
Unable to sleep, Wu Linxuan got up in the dead of night to handle official matters. After meticulous planning, he had uncovered flaws in the construction of the imperial retreat. Tomorrow, he would bring this to the emperor’s attention.
He had to stay sharp—this was his chance to reclaim control of the project.
Since his mother’s death, Wu Linxuan’s sole ambition had been to ascend to the highest throne.
He didn’t have a particularly dark childhood, but his mother had been a concubine with no powerful family backing. In the harem, she was neither favored nor neglected—she had relied on her beauty to secure the emperor’s affection, and as her looks faded, so did his favor. Still, she had served Emperor Yan’an for over a decade.
Yet when she fell ill and died, she didn’t even get to see the emperor one last time—he feared catching her illness.
Wu Linxuan had begged Emperor Yan’an to posthumously promote her to imperial consort so she could be buried in the imperial mausoleum rather than the concubines’ graveyard, where no one even tended the lanterns. But the emperor refused.
The imperial family knew no kinship. None of Emperor Yan’an’s sons had ever received his favor—except the eldest, who was eventually killed by the very brothers who had been denied that affection.
Clearly, an emperor’s love wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
Wu Linxuan wanted to be emperor. He wanted to move his mother’s remains from that lonely grave and posthumously honor her as empress dowager.
He was willing to be ruthless, but he would never tolerate being slighted.
He had the ability, the ambition, and the right to claim the throne.
But the path was fraught with obstacles, and nothing—absolutely nothing—could be allowed to shake his resolve.
Under the flickering candlelight, Wu Linxuan held his brush but hesitated to write. The lingering heat of his dream did not stir him—instead, it chilled his blood.
On this cool summer night, he felt a genuine, murderous intent toward the consort who had robbed him of sleep.
If a problem couldn’t be solved, it was best removed. This was the lesson in imperial ruthlessness he had learned from Emperor Yan’an.
Lu Meng had no idea that her inadvertent presence had stirred up a storm.
She had nearly been killed in Wu Linxuan’s dream.
Oblivious, she slept soundly, unaware that assassins had come and gone.
The next morning, Xin Ya arrived with cheerful news—her confinement had been lifted.
Instead of rejoicing, Lu Meng’s heart sank.
Why now? Was some twisted plot about to unfold?
She called for her system, hoping for answers.
But the system knew nothing.
"Don’t panic," it said. "It’s not a big deal. Just lie low, and you’ll be fine."
The first assassin sent to kill her last night hadn’t even drawn his blade before a second one arrived to stop him.
Wu Linxuan, the tyrannical protagonist who had single-handedly derailed countless worlds in this tragic novel, clearly treated this transmigrated host differently from the others.
Lu Meng supposed that made sense. Even if a tragic heroine did nothing, the plot would find her. Worst case, she could just confess her love to the male lead again.
It wasn’t like she was the one who’d be disgusted.
So she lay back down, untroubled.
Days passed without incident. Lu Meng grew bored of flying kites in the courtyard. Xin Ya was often out inspecting the prince’s shops, and gradually, Lu Meng began to entertain an idea.
She wanted to go out.
Two months in this world, and she still hadn’t had a chance to stroll through the streets.
Last time, during her homecoming visit, she had only passed by—no time for shopping.
She wanted to buy things. Xin Ya managed the household funds, and since it was all Wu Linxuan’s money, why not spend it?
The thought itching at her, she proposed, "I’d like to accompany you on your rounds through the shops."
Xin Ya had no reason to refuse. The confinement had been lifted, meaning the prince’s anger had subsided.
"Where would the Dream Consort like to go? I’ll arrange a carriage," Xin Ya said. "Shall I invite some ladies from other households to join you?"
Lu Meng immediately waved her hands.
"No, no. I’m not close with any of them, and I don’t enjoy socializing." Over time, Lu Meng had let her guard down, revealing bits of her true nature.
Comfort had made her careless, but she also needed those around her to know her real personality.
She couldn’t keep up an act forever.
Xin Ya had indeed come to understand the Dream Consort better—at least in terms of her aversion to socializing.
Lu Meng continued, "No need for elaborate preparations. I’ll just dress as a maid and go with you to inspect the shops."
Xin Ya’s eyebrows rose. Prince Jian’an had ordered her to closely monitor the "Dream Consort’s" movements—his suspicions had never waned.
But this woman had shown no interest in anything. Yet every time Xin Ya thought she had her figured out, something unexpected happened.
A noble consort going out in public but refusing to flaunt her status, choosing instead to disguise herself as a maid?
Most women of this era—especially in this world—had no social life beyond flaunting their marital status.
They gathered in groups, subtly competing. The losers would go home in tears.
Of course, this wasn’t entirely pointless. The front court and the inner quarters were deeply intertwined—harmony among the ladies meant pillow talk that could sway political tides in unimaginable ways.
But the Dream Consort’s first outing involved no invitations, no displays of status—just a maid’s disguise?
And accompanying Xin Ya to inspect shops? Was she hinting at a desire to take over the household’s finances?
Lu Meng’s reasoning was simple: in early tragic romance novels, the heroine couldn’t step outside without being targeted by every dog in the street.
She wanted to keep a low profile, avoid trouble, and return unscathed—no need to dress up and walk straight into some humiliating plot.
However, Lu Meng could tell from Xin Ya's expression that her request seemed odd, and she belatedly realized it herself.
After a moment's thought, she said, "I’ve just been released from confinement, and Prince Jian'an might still be upset with me. If I go out too conspicuously and he finds out, he might lock me up again—what then?"
Xin Ya laughed at this. It was a plausible enough excuse.
"That won’t happen, Lady Meng. In fact, His Highness often asks about you." He inquired daily about what she was doing.
Lu Meng shook her head, feigning melancholy. "My family background isn’t distinguished, and I’ve brought no advantage to His Highness. The least I can do is avoid angering him."
She tugged at Xin Ya’s sleeve and added, "I want to buy lots of fun things and bring plenty of guards for safety. Let’s keep it quiet. My elder sister is returning soon, and I’d like to pick out gifts for her. She’s taken care of me all these years… I’ll disguise myself as a maid to avoid rumors that Prince Jian'an’s concubine is extravagantly wasteful."
Xin Ya agreed with a smile, then promptly reported the matter to Prince Jian'an.
Wu Linxuan had no objection to her fear of displeasing him or her plan to disguise herself as a maid. Keeping a low profile was no bad thing. Many noble ladies discreetly masked their identities when shopping to avoid scrutiny over lavish spending or political backlash.
But why did she suddenly want to go out after staying obediently in the inner quarters all this time?
Could it be that she was deluding herself into thinking she could manage his household and make decisions for him?
"Take her out. See what she’s really up to," Wu Linxuan said. "Let her buy whatever she wants. If she wants to inspect shops, let her."
Xin Ya nodded and left.
After a long silence, Wu Linxuan ordered, "Chen Yuan, send someone to check if there’s any unusual activity at the Fourth Prince’s residence today."
Lu Meng knew Xin Ya’s so-called "preparations" meant reporting to Wu Linxuan—after all, Xin Ya was his man.
But when Xin Ya returned and told her everything was ready, Lu Meng felt reassured.
Wu Linxuan had promised to provide for her and said she could freely use the household’s gold and silver. If he went back on his word, she’d have to find a way to remind him.
After all, she’d been so well-behaved, never coveting what wasn’t hers.
So, disguised as a maid, Lu Meng went shopping with Xin Ya. The ancient marketplace was lively, though not as bustling as a modern commercial street.
Lu Meng wanted to buy everything in sight, useful or not. She amassed a mountain of purchases, and by evening, the carriage was packed full—thankfully, they’d brought enough guards.
Xin Ya observed Lu Meng all day and realized she truly was just there to shop. She didn’t ask to review shop ledgers or inquire about business operations.
Lu Meng was ecstatic, practically floating with joy.
In this life, her greatest dream was to have money—and spend it freely!
To buy without checking prices, not necessarily the best, but certainly the most expensive!
In the modern world, even if she sold enough bubble tea to circle the globe, she could never spend so recklessly.
Who would’ve thought? Her simple, unadorned dream had come true in ancient times!
She couldn’t stop grinning, never having loved Wu Linxuan so sincerely before.
She even bought him a little something, "shyly" asking Xin Ya to deliver it to him.
By nightfall, Lu Meng was buried in her mountain of treasures, giggling under lamplight, having completely forgotten her earlier vow of discretion.
Meanwhile, Wu Linxuan was working late by candlelight.
When Xin Ya brought the gift, explaining that Lady Meng had specially chosen it and carried it back herself, Wu Linxuan pinched the bridge of his nose.
The words "Lady Meng" now felt like a contagion to him.
Even seeing the character for "dream" on paper gave him a headache.
Still, since the gift had arrived, he cast a sidelong glance.
Then he scoffed. "A sugar figurine?"
"Yes," Chen Yuan said, holding it closer. Under the flickering candlelight, the amber-hued figurine gleamed—a little man in brocade robes, with a dragon coiled around him.
Wu Linxuan raised an eyebrow.
Chen Yuan added, "Xin Ya said Lady Meng insisted you see it. She claimed the little man is you."
Wu Linxuan fell silent. Though the gift was cheap and audaciously presumptuous, he couldn’t deny it pleased him.
"Bold little thing," he muttered. "Throw it away." Such an item couldn’t risk becoming gossip.
As Chen Yuan turned to leave, Wu Linxuan picked up his teacup and asked casually, "What else did she buy today? Just more cheap trinkets? Truly, her lowly origins show—such shallow tastes."
Chen Yuan paused, giving the sugar figurine a complicated look, then replied dutifully, "Lady Meng did purchase many inexpensive items."
"But today, she spent four thousand taels..."
Wu Linxuan’s hand stilled briefly. Four thousand taels wasn’t excessive for jewelry...
Then Chen Yuan clarified, "Of gold."
Wu Linxuan choked mid-sip, spewing half his tea and inhaling the rest.
He coughed violently, as if the heavens themselves had darkened.
