That night, as Ling Xiuying lay in bed, she finally allowed herself to process everything.
She was marrying the Seventh Prince—a man she had never met.
A man in a coma.
A man who, according to court physicians, wouldn't last the year.
A man with no wives or concubines left to threaten her...
It was perfect!
Original Owner, you overdramatic fool! This isn't a tragedy—it's a VIP ticket to Easy Street!
No husband to control her. No jealous rivals scheming against her. Just a title, a stipend, and the freedom to live as she pleased.
She grinned into the darkness.
Who would've thought transmigrating into ancient times would turn out this well?
Her modern soul was practically dancing with joy. No nine-to-five job, no taxes, no need to fight for promotions—just an estate, servants, and a comfortable life funded by imperial pity.
Ah, truly, this was the dream.
By the next morning, news of her "sacrifice" spread like wildfire throughout the manor.
The entire household treated her with a mix of pity and reverence. Servants bowed deeper. Everyone was treating her as if she were marching to her execution rather than a wedding.
She couldn't help but sigh. To her, they were all strangers. But for them, they were losing their sister and daughter, and the chances of seeing her again—an imperial princess—were slim to none.
"Elder Sister, must you really go?" Ling Xiaolian sniffled, clutching her sleeve like a koala. "Can't you refuse?"
This little girl... how much she defended her at the dinner table, she must have been secretly worried. Ling Xiuying smiled, stroking the little girl's hair. "Silly girl, how can I say no to an imperial decree?"
"But... but..." Xiaolian's voice wobbled. "The prince is dying! What will happen to you?"
Uh, a lifetime of luxury and zero marital obligations? "I'll be fine," she reassured her. More than fine, actually.
A voice heavy with restraint, cut in. "That is precisely why this marriage should not have been arranged in the first place."
Ling Xiuying turned to see Ling Zihan standing stiffly, arms crossed like an angsty teenager. "Elder Sister," he began, his tone heavy with frustration, "The Seventh Prince is unlikely to recover. Sending you into such a household—Father should have objected."
"The Emperor's decree is absolute," she reminded him gently. "Even Father cannot change it." And also, I'm totally okay with this.
Ling Zihan's brows furrowed. "Had you insisted, had you wept and pleaded, perhaps something could have been done."
She let out a soft chuckle. "Would it have?" If begging worked, the original wouldn't have ended her own life, allowing her to take over. She had probably already tried everything—until there was nothing left but despair.
Zihan stared at her for a long moment before speaking again, this time with a solemnity beyond what a fourteen-year-old should have. "You've changed."
Ling Xiuying raised a brow. So the original was a crier, huh? According to Tao Tao, the poor girl had been quiet and timid—nothing like herself, who was more likely to flip a table than weep prettily into a handkerchief.
"People do," she said lightly, especially when they're actually different people occupying the same meat suit.
He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Good. If you were like before, I would have been worried."
Her fingers itched to ruffle his hair like she would've done to her annoying little cousin back home, but she restrained herself. Better not. Instead, she nodded summoning her best 'tragic yet noble' face. "There's no point in dwelling on the past, if I'm to survive in the palace, I had to be strong."
Beside them, Ling Xiaolian wiped her eyes and declared, "Then I'll pray every night that the Seventh Prince wakes up and gets better! If he recovers, you won't have to struggle alone!"
Ling Xiuying's smile stiffened. "Thank you..." No, please don't. Stay asleep, Your Highness. For both our sakes.
She bent down and whispered conspiratorially, "Besides, I'll be rich, you know. I can send you gifts all the time. What do you want? Sweets? Storybooks? Embroidered shoes?"
Ling Xiaolian sniffled but perked up slightly. "Really?"
As expected of an eleven-year-old. "Really." So don't pray for him!
Ling Xiuying was tempted to sigh in exasperation.
The next few days passed in a blur of silk, embroidery, and hushed whispers.
Ling Xiuying stood stiffly on a raised platform in the family's ancestral hall, her arms outstretched as imperial tailors swarmed around her. The heavy red brocade of her wedding robe—adorned with gold-threaded phoenixes and peonies—itched against her skin. The color was supposed to symbolize celebration, yet everything felt like mourning.
"Red for celebration, yet a silence like mourning," she mused, watching the servants' somber faces.
Tao Tao adjusted the hem with trembling fingers. "Miss, the whole household grieves for you."
"..." Please, don't. There's no need...
Just then, the sound of silk rustling signaled Lady Li's arrival. The matriarch swept into the room like a winter breeze, her presence cold and sharp, with a single glance, she dismissed the tailors and maids. "Leave us."
The servants bowed and scurried out, their footsteps barely audible on the wooden floors. Even Tao Tao retreated, though not without casting a worried look her way.
Alone now, Lady Li stepped forward, her normally composed form betraying the slightest sag as she reached to straighten a nonexistent wrinkle on Ling Xiuying's sleeve. Her fingers trembled with rare unease.
"Daughter," she began, voice taut as a bowstring, "when you marry into the imperial family, remember you're not just marrying a man—you're marrying an empire." Her fingers tightened around Ling Xiuying's. "You will be watched, judged, and tested in ways you cannot imagine. A single misstep could mean death—for you, for your father, for all of us."
Ling Xiuying nodded as the weight of the words settled uncomfortably. "I understand, Mother."
Lady Li's nails dug in slightly as she continued. "You must remember: never speak unless spoken to. Never meet the Emperor's eyes. Never question the Empress Dowager, no matter how unreasonable her demands." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And above all—do not draw attention to yourself. The Seventh Prince's household may seem safe now, but vultures circle the weak.[1]"
Ling Xiuying's nerves began to fray, but before she could speak, the doors slid open again. The Ling father, Ling Renshu, stood framed in the doorway, his scholar's robes rumpled, his eyes bloodshot and the scent of wine strong in the air.
"Xiuying." His voice cracked. "This robe… it should have been your mother's bridal red, not this… this funeral shroud."
Lady Li stiffened. "Husband—"
"No!" He staggered forward, gripping a table for balance. "We all know the truth. The Emperor sends our daughter to a corpse's bedchamber to buy his favor with the heavens!"
Yikes. That declaration made her skin prickle with discomfort. Even if thats what she wanted, something about the atmosphere being so serious made her have ominous feelings.
Lady Li's slap rang through the hall. "Control yourself! The walls have ears!"
Ling Renshu recoiled, but his gaze, when it met Ling Xiuying's, was wretched. "Forgive me. A father's duty is to protect his children, yet I've failed you."
Man, the guilt trip is strong with this one. Ling Xiuying forced a gentle smile despite her unexpected anxiety. "Father, you've protected us all this time. Let me protect you now."
Lady Li exhaled sharply and produced a small sandalwood box from her sleeve. Inside lay a hairpin—a simple silver blossom with a pearl center. "This was my mother's. The pearl is hollow." She twisted it open with practiced fingers, revealing a tiny compartment. "Keep powdered ginseng inside. If you're ever poisoned, it may buy you time."
Ling Xiuying's eyebrows shot up. Okay, THAT'S useful. "Thank you, Mother."
Her father, meanwhile, fumbled for something in his own sleeve—a folded slip of paper. "Memorize these names," he whispered. "They're allies in the Ministry of Rites. If you're ever in danger, send word through the eunuch listed at the bottom. He owes me a debt."
Wow. So much for 'stay out of politics.' She tucked the paper into her own sleeve nodding solemnly. "I will."
Lady Li's face hardened again. "Enough. The tailors must finish." With a clap of her hands, the servants flooded back in.
As the measuring resumed, Ling Xiuying caught Tao Tao's eye in the mirror. The maid mouthed: "Are you alright?"
She smiled and nodded.
Yet, as she stood there with the weight of the sandalwood box in her sleeve and the secret list pressed against her skin, she couldn't help but sigh. Guilt pricked at her for taking the original's body—however unintentional it had been. The least she could do was play the part of a good daughter for these people who believed they were losing their child. Even if, in her heart, all she felt was sympathy for these strangers whose names and faces had only become familiar in the past few days.
And like this, with the unwillingness of Ling family members hanging heavy in the air, the wedding date finally arrived.
[1] Meaning: Waiting to exploit or take advantage of someone or something that is vulnerable or in a weakened state.