If it had been anyone else pulling off such a swap, Yu Miaohua would have exposed them on the spot. But when it was her grand-mentor, she could only play along—at most, she’d ask him for his reasons later. How could she possibly call him out?
Besides, if her grand-mentor dared to do something like this, she doubted the Emperor was unaware. It was probably a scheme cooked up between the ruler and his minister.
What Yu Miaohua didn’t understand was—was the Emperor really so unconcerned about the Crown Prince’s reputation?
Pei Lingyue eagerly displayed the silk scroll in his hand.
The ministers responded in kind.
"Whenever the late Emperor wrote the character for 'Pei,' he would press down harder on that first stroke."
"Perhaps the late Emperor was dissatisfied with the original list and added three names of his own choosing."
"But that’s the Crown Prince…"
Some ministers still struggled to voice their objections, only to realize with dismay that their numbers were negligible compared to those in agreement.
Pei Lingyue let out a long sigh, his expression tinged with rare melancholy. "Since our ancestors allowed the late Emperor to manifest his will, it’s clear they approve. How could I possibly defy their wishes? What would I say to them in the afterlife?"
Yu Miaohua watched his performance in silence.
[What kind of image does the late Emperor have in these ministers’ minds? Not a single one suspects this is fake… Do they just assume he’d pull something like this?]
[Host, let me fetch the background info for you.]
The system returned within seconds.
[To please Empress Zhenyi, the late Emperor once tried to arrange a marriage between his niece and Empress Zhenyi’s younger brother as a secondary wife. It wasn’t until the elder princess stormed into court with a white silk scarf that he backtracked, claiming he’d been drunk and didn’t mean it.]
[??? A secondary wife? Was he serious?]
Though Great Qi recognized the concept of "secondary wives," it was mostly a practice among merchants. And even then, the so-called secondary wife was just a glorified concubine.
The late Emperor’s niece was the elder princess’s own daughter—a noblewoman of the highest rank. To be offered as a concubine?
The issue of generational impropriety paled in comparison.
[Exactly. That’s also why the Fan Family fell so quickly afterward.]
Resentment had been simmering for a long time.
[But the real culprit was the late Emperor himself. If he hadn’t been so blinded by lust, how could the Fan Family have grown so arrogant? Even without them, there’d have been the Huang Family, the Wang Family…]
"Cough, cough…"
"Ahem…"
A chorus of coughs erupted around the court.
The ministers who caught the exchange pretended not to notice. They were used to turning a blind eye when the Divine Maiden mocked the late Emperor—after all, they’d cursed him in their hearts more than once.
Pei Lingyue made the final call. "Since this was the late Emperor’s will, let it be settled."
One minister opened his mouth to protest, but another tugged his sleeve and whispered, "Have you forgotten the Dragon’s Tail?"
The last time the "Dragon’s Tail" incident occurred, many ministers assumed it was the late Emperor’s doing—a petty act of posthumous vengeance.
The dissenting minister promptly shut his mouth. No one wanted to be flung into the sky.
News that Pei Chiyan, Pei Yuheng, and Shen Sushang had been personally chosen by the late Emperor spread like wildfire through the palace.
Soon, the gates of Guanju Palace were nearly trampled underfoot as everyone clamored to know whether Yu Miaohua would refuse.
Yu Miaohua blinked. "Why would I refuse? It’s not like I picked them."
After all, all three were exceptionally handsome—pleasant to look at, at the very least. It wasn’t as if she’d be the one at a disadvantage.
Besides, how many of the current volunteers were genuinely interested in her, rather than the benefits she could bring?
Her grand-mentor Jiang Kangyou had warned her: in the eyes of those vying to become Divine Consorts, she was a prize to be claimed.
Some had even taken specialized… training after making the preliminary list.
Jiang Kangyou adopted a solemn tone. "With the Crown Prince among them, he’ll keep the others in line. The other two are there to share his workload."
Yu Miaohua found his reasoning sound.
What if she woke up one night to find an ambitious volunteer curled up in her bed? The thought alone was terrifying. She had no doubt about the lengths some would go to climb the social ladder.
But with the Crown Prince and a prince’s son standing guard, who’d dare overstep?
And yet…
The way her grand-mentor framed it made it sound like the Crown Prince was her empress consort, while Pei Yuheng and her junior brother were her imperial concubines.
Her mind conjured an absurd scene:
Jiang Kangyou declaring with utmost gravity, "Crown Prince Pei Chiyan, of noble lineage and gentle virtue, is a fitting match for the central palace."
The sheer horror of the image left her reeling.
Yu Miaohua had initially worried about being labeled a seductress, but when her younger sister Yu Miaoping visited, she learned the public reaction was quite the opposite.
"The commoners say the late Emperor deliberately chose the Crown Prince and the prince’s son to smear the Emperor’s and Crown Prince’s reputations," Yu Miaoping explained.
Yu Miaohua: "Huh?"
"They believe the late Emperor grew jealous because the current Emperor’s competence made his own reign look worse by comparison. So the petty late Emperor ‘manifested’ out of spite."
"Both you and the Crown Prince are victims."
Yu Miaohua: "Huh?"
"They’ve decided not to play into the late Emperor’s hands. All blame falls on him—you’re innocent."
Yu Miaohua nearly turned into a broken record of stunned "huhs."
Since when did the public’s logic work like this?
Was someone steering the narrative?
Once again, the late Emperor bore the brunt of the disgrace, while everyone else emerged spotless.
What Yu Miaohua didn’t know was that this narrative owed much to the Emperor and his officials. Prince Pei Lingyou also contributed diligently to slandering the late Emperor—for his son’s sake.
Admittedly, the spin worked in her favor.
After some thought, she decided to offer the solar salt production method as a reward.
Well, one was the Crown Prince, another a prince’s son—it was only right she provide a dowry of sorts.
Pei Lingyue lost no time implementing the solar salt method, entrusting the task to Pei Yuheng.
The Crown Prince already had enough responsibilities; this would lighten his load.
Keeping Pei Yuheng busy also prevented him from constantly "coincidentally" running into Yu Miaohua.
Though the Emperor occasionally orchestrated their meetings for the sake of rewards, his bias as a ruler still showed.
Pei Yuheng undertook the assignment with delight.
To him, the solar salt method’s appearance after his selection proved heaven’s endorsement—he was the chosen Divine Consort, and this was his dowry.
As for the Crown Prince and Shen Sushang on the same list? He conveniently ignored them.
He made sure to spread this interpretation far and wide.
If the common people had previously harbored some minor complaints about the three of them being on the list, the introduction of the salt evaporation method instantly changed their minds.
"Salt can be extracted from seawater? Is that really true?"
"When has anything bestowed by the heavens upon the Divine Maiden ever been false? It’s absolutely true! I heard this method could reduce the current price of salt by more than 70%. Soon, everyone will be able to afford salt."
At the mention of a 70% price drop, they gasped in astonishment.
They had initially hoped for a modest reduction of 10-20%, never expecting such a drastic decrease.
"Some say this is the betrothal gift for Prince Pei Yuheng."
"A betrothal gift that good? Then what about Scholar Shen Sushang and the Crown Prince’s gifts?"
"The Crown Prince is the future Son of Heaven—his betrothal gift surely can’t be inferior to Prince Pei Yuheng’s. I support the Crown Prince; his status is noble, so he should be chosen. Cough Not that I’m only saying this for the rewards."
The people’s attention was swiftly redirected to speculating about the Crown Prince’s betrothal gift, each dreaming extravagantly.
Even when some pedantic scholars argued that this was improper, the common folk dismissed them outright.
They didn’t care about such formalities. As long as they, the lowly commoners, benefited, it was enough. After all, none of them stood a chance of becoming the Divine Maiden’s consort—it made no difference who was chosen, as long as the Divine Maiden and the heavens were satisfied.
This shift in public opinion was something Yu Miaohua hadn’t anticipated.
She grew nervous.
[System, what if the rewards later aren’t as impressive as the salt evaporation method?]
Gifts of that caliber weren’t something she could produce on demand.
Everyone had their biases.
Among the three, Yu Miaohua naturally leaned more toward the Crown Prince and her junior brother.
If the people assumed the salt method was Pei Yuheng’s gift, and the subsequent ones paled in comparison, would someone manipulate public opinion to claim the heavens favored him more than the Crown Prince and Shen Sushang?
[Status isn’t an issue—you must make it clear to everyone that this is a mutual choice between you and your targets. Congratulations, Host, for triggering Main Mission 6.2: Officially designate all three love interests as divine consorts. Reward: potatoes.]
Potatoes!
Yu Miaohua had just been worrying about future rewards, and now potatoes were on the table? These were on par with corn and Champa rice!
[Wow, the quintessential transmigrator’s cheat—potatoes—are here! Go for it, Host! No more worries, right?]
Yu Miaohua: "..."
Sometimes, the system’s reward triggers were a little too uncanny.
But still…
A thought suddenly crossed her mind: Pei Yuheng would undoubtedly be eager to be named her divine consort, but what about the Crown Prince and Shen Sushang? Would they see this as an insult?
Yu Miaohua felt she needed to talk to them, to hear their thoughts.
The rewards were undeniably tempting, but she couldn’t disregard her friends’ wishes.
---
Meanwhile, Pei Chiyao had been stationed at the imperial mausoleum for over half a year.
At first, he had resented his circumstances. He had already severed ties with his mother, relinquished any ambition for the throne, and ceased his schemes against Yu Miaohua—why was he still being punished with this exile?
To pass the time in the monotonous solitude, he began cultivating a small plot of land. Partly to occupy himself, but also to demonstrate his reformation to his father, hoping to evoke some guilt.
Yet farming proved far more exhausting than he’d imagined. The labor left him too drained to dwell on grievances. And when problems arose—his guards were useless at agriculture—he had no choice but to swallow his pride and seek advice from the common folk he once disdained.
But when harvest finally came, an indescribable satisfaction filled him. The meager yield was barely enough to feed himself.
He realized that without his royal status and the supplies sent from the capital, he wouldn’t even survive.
Yet this very life was one many commoners could only dream of.
They spoke of how the Divine Maiden’s gifts—cotton and heated kang beds—had spared them from winter’s cruelty.
Thanks to Champa rice and corn, they no longer feared starvation.
Their eyes shone whenever they mentioned Yu Miaohua.
It was then that Pei Chiyao grasped her significance to Great Qi.
And he—who had once prioritized his own grudges over the nation’s future, who had conspired against her—what right did he have to claim he’d have been a benevolent emperor?
He was never worthy of the throne.
If these people knew what he’d done, they’d surely despise him.
Pei Chiyao began to reflect.
News from the capital eventually reached him.
Soon, he learned that his father was selecting divine consorts for Yu Miaohua.
Though his attitude toward her had transformed, this revelation stunned him.
Was her standing in his father’s eyes so lofty that he’d resort to such an absurd gesture? And with no opposition from the court—as if her transcendent status were unquestionable?
He had been wrong.
He’d gravely underestimated the weight of the Divine Maiden’s role.
No wonder so many talented men volunteered to serve her.
How deluded had he been, to challenge her without a shred of self-awareness?
Two weeks later, another update arrived: the Crown Prince was now among the candidates.
Pei Chiyao’s disbelief was palpable. He demanded confirmation repeatedly.
"The Crown Prince? Truly?"
"Yes."
After multiple affirmations, he sat in silence for hours.
Once, he’d resented his father’s favoritism toward the Crown Prince. Now, he saw that before Yu Miaohua, all were equal—himself and the Crown Prince included.
And with that, he found peace.
