Chapter 1

…

The end of August in the second year of Yuanfu.

The "Zhao Yu" who had transmigrated into Zhao Xu, the twelfth prince of Emperor Zhezong of Song, was riding in a carriage toward the palace to congratulate Zhao Xu on the birth of his precious son.

The imperial avenue was over two hundred paces wide; the central path was reserved for the emperor alone—commoners and their horses were forbidden to walk upon it and had to stay on either side. Two imperial ditches ran down the center, filled with clear flowing water, planted with lotus and water lilies; along their banks grew peach, plum, pear, and apricot trees, interspersed with blooming flowers, creating a dazzling, embroidered panorama at a glance.

Gazing at this unfamiliar ancient city, Zhao Yu felt a flood of emotions: "Even something as ridiculous as transmigration happened to me—looks like I really am destined to be emperor."

When Zhao Yu was born, his parents had specifically sought out a master to cast his fortune.

The master said Zhao Yu would one day don the yellow robe.

Zhao Yu's parents were overjoyed; they gave the master a generous fee and, when Zhao Yu chose his college major, encouraged him to study history.

In their words: "How can an emperor not understand history?"

The result? Zhao Yu graduated and became unemployed.

He wrote novels for several years, became a keyboard political commentator, keyboard historian, keyboard economist, and drifted until nearly forty, seeing no hope of becoming a godwriter after repeatedly failing to publish successful books—so he temporarily joined a delivery crew, running food delivery while searching for writing inspiration…

Just as Zhao Yu thought he had fulfilled that old man's prophecy in this bizarre way, a twist occurred.

That day, Zhao Yu sat comfortably outside a restaurant, reading a web novel titled *Me and Five Gorgeous Girls Transmigrated to the Northern Song*, savoring the shallow joy of those quiet moments before taking an order.

Who knew? Misfortune fell from the sky—a BYD Song SUV came flying out of nowhere and slammed straight into Zhao Yu, then burst into flames.

Zhao Yu glanced at the five female internet celebrities trapped inside the car, unable to open the doors, and ended his meaningless life.

When Zhao Yu opened his eyes again, he had transmigrated into a prince who was one step away from becoming emperor.

Crucially, as an author who had written several historical novels set in the Northern and Southern Song periods, Zhao Yu knew well: Zhao Xu's son would die soon after birth, then Zhao Xu's daughter would also die suddenly; after these twin blows, Zhao Xu—who was already frail and sickly—would perish within months. Afterward, since Zhao Xu had no sons, the new emperor would have to be chosen from among Zhao Xu's brothers.

In other words, Zhao Yu truly had a chance to become emperor.

According to original history, the throne would eventually pass to Zhao Yu's eleventh brother, Prince Duan Zhao Ji—the architect of the Jingkang Humiliation, one of the two Song emperors captured and exiled to the northeast by the Jin.

After Zhao Ji ascended the throne, he was corrupt, decadent, wasteful, and obsessed with grandiose projects, squandering the entire Song treasury and triggering the Jingkang Humiliation.

This turned the original host into collateral damage: the Jin forces herded him and other Zhao Song royalty like livestock all the way north.

In the end, the original host starved to death and was buried in a horse trough.

The trough was too small to hold his body—his feet stuck out.

Zhao Ji requested the body be returned to Kaifeng for burial, but the Jin refused; the corpse was burned on the spot, and no one knows where it was finally buried.

It wasn't because of that old man's prophecy that Zhao Yu was destined to be emperor—it was because of this utterly tragic fate of the original host—that Zhao Yu, unwilling to meet the same end, would never let Zhao Ji become emperor.

"I must replace him!!!"

…

In a side chamber of Cide Palace.

Zhang Chun, the top-tier historical fiction author who had transmigrated into an imperial attendant; Li Lin, the top-tier military commentator; Ye Shi Yun, the top-tier financial livestreamer; Ma Xiao Jiao, the tech circle's fallen queen; Yuan Qing Cheng, the goddess of grafting and seedling cultivation—sat in a circle, processing the fact that they had transmigrated.

After an indeterminate length of time, Ye Shi Yun broke the silence: "Let's talk—how did we end up here?"

Ma Xiao Jiao said: "We all went to a top influencer summit. At noon, the organizers said parking was tight, so five of us had to share one car—we got into Sister Li's car, and then halfway, the brakes failed…"

Ye Shi Yun, unwilling to relive that excruciating memory, cut her off: "Tell us something we don't know."

Another collective silence.

Seeing no one speak, Zhang Chun organized her thoughts and said:

"Listen—everyone outside is saying that Consort Liu has given birth to a prince, and the Emperor is overjoyed, surely planning a grand reward for the harem."

"There have been many Consort Lius in history, but given our attire—Song dynasty palace maid uniforms—the possibilities narrow to either Empress Liu Qingjing, the second wife of Emperor Zhezong, or Consort Liu of Emperor Gaozong of Southern Song."

"Zhao Gou's only son, Zhao Fu, was born to Consort Pan, not Consort Liu."

"Therefore, this Consort Liu can only be Liu Qingjing."

"Liu Qingjing hasn't yet become empress, and she just gave birth to Zhao Xu's only son, Zhao Mao… It must be August 1099."

"If we've truly transmigrated to this exact moment, is it good or bad?" Li Lin asked.

"Bad."

"Twenty-eight years from now is the Jingkang Humiliation. If we stay healthy, we might be captured by the Jin and dragged to the freezing northeast, become their playthings, turn into common prostitutes, or be traded like livestock for cattle, horses, and sheep."

"We don't even need to think about escaping the palace—it's heavily guarded, with a guard every three steps and a sentry every five. Impossible to flee. Nor can we escape Bianliang: the real late Northern Song is just like *Water Margin*—bandits, outlaws, river pirates everywhere. Without a powerful man to protect us, the five of us stepping outside Bianliang will likely be robbed, raped, then sold into brothels."

"And when the Jingkang Humiliation happens, the whole realm will collapse—rebel armies and bandits everywhere. No matter where we run, there will be no safety."

Hearing Zhang Chun say this, Li Lin—always yearning to command armies and achieve glory at Langjuxu—lit up, already imagining herself on horseback, sword in hand, commanding the battlefield.

But Ye Shi Yun and the other three women thought: thirty years until Jingkang—no need to panic yet.

Seeing Li Lin and the other three still didn't grasp the severity, Zhang Chun said calmly: "Do you think our only problem is the Jingkang Humiliation?"

Li Lin and the other three turned to Zhang Chun: "Isn't it?"

"Zhao Xu's son will die in three months. Then Zhao Xu's youngest daughter, Princess Yangguo, will suddenly fall ill and die. These blows will devastate Zhao Xu, and his already frail body will perish by next January."

"In other words, barring accidents, in five months, Emperor Huizong Zhao Ji will ascend the throne."

"You know Zhao Ji—the architect of the Jingkang Humiliation, one of history's greatest tyrants."

"Crucially, he's not just corrupt—he's insatiable in lust. At his peak, his harem exceeded ten thousand women—and still, he sneaked out of the palace to consort with courtesans like Li Shishi and Zhao Yuannu. And the five of us will very likely become five of those ten thousand."

Li Lin and the other three stared, dumbfounded: "No way?!!!"

—As modern women, especially successful modern women, sharing a husband with other women was unthinkable—let alone sharing one with ten thousand!!

"Don't scare me," Ma Xiao Jiao asked. "I heard people outside say this is where the Empress Dowager lives—how could we possibly become Zhao Ji's concubines?"

"We are indeed in Cide Palace, the Empress Dowager's residence—but in one or two years, Empress Dowager Xiang will die. After her death, all the young palace maids in her court will be absorbed by the reigning emperor—that's the Song custom."

"And once a woman enters the emperor's harem, he can summon any of them at will—we won't be an exception."

Even without deep historical knowledge, even a fool could see: if the emperor desired a woman in his harem, how could she possibly escape his grasp?

"Can we apply to return to our families?" Yuan Qing Cheng asked.

"Song dynasty palace maids typically entered at around thirteen, and were released at twenty-five. During that time, they were as good as sold to the palace—family had no say in their birth, illness, death, or fate."

In other words, it's not that the palace refuses to include us—we have no choice but to stay within it.

We're all newly arrived palace maids, none of us over fifteen; if we want to leave through this path, we must endure at least ten years.

Upon hearing they must wait ten years, the girls fell silent again as one.

After a moment, Li Lin stated her own position: "I don't know what you think, but I refuse to become Zhao Ji's concubine. Even if he's lecherous, the real problem is his utter incompetence—I simply cannot accept a man like him."

Zhang Chun smiled bitterly: "Becoming the emperor's concubine, winning his favor—that's luck for us. Otherwise, with our values of gender equality and our habit of being free-spirited and reckless, we might just ruin ourselves."

"No way?" Ma Xiao Jiao exclaimed, eyes wide.

"I'm not trying to scare you."

"First, the harem's hierarchy and rules are rigid—we could easily break protocol. Without protection, we'd be beaten to death in an instant."

"Just consider how far women in the harem will go to compete for favor. You've all seen 'The Legend of Zhen Huan,' right? The scheming and deceit in the real harem are no less than in that drama—perhaps even more brutal. What are they fighting for? Nothing but the emperor's favor. Once they win it, they can command wind and rain; once they lose it, they may lose their lives."

"A few years ago, in this harem, because Zhao Xu disliked Meng Xiang's affection for Liu Qingjing, Liu Qingjing orchestrated a witchcraft case to seize Meng Xiang's position as empress. As a result, every single person in Meng Xiang's palace was beaten bloody by Liu Qingjing's followers—many had their tongues cut out, limbs severed."

Hearing Zhang Chun's words, Li Lin and the other three women all felt their hearts grow heavy.

Yuan Qing Cheng asked, voice bitter: "So… becoming the emperor's plaything is our best option?"

Zhang Chun sighed: "Though I hate to admit it, in this feudal society, the emperor is heaven itself—especially within the harem. Without his favor, even if we possessed heaven-shaking power, we'd have no chance to use it."

This conclusion was something these women, who had been so successful in their past lives, could not truly accept.

After a long silence, Li Lin finally asked slowly: "Can't we find a way to replace the emperor?"

…

(End of Chapter)