Chapter 1: I Crossed Over with Five Gorgeous Women

…

The end of August in Yuanyou Year 2.

The “Zhao Yu” who had been reincarnated as Zhao Xu’s twelfth brother, Prince Xin of Song, rode in a carriage toward the palace to congratulate Zhao Xu on the birth of a royal son.

The Imperial Street was over two hundred paces wide; the central path was the Imperial Way, forbidden to ordinary people or horses, who could only walk along the sides. Two imperial canals ran down the middle, their waters clear, planted with lotus and water lilies, while peach, plum, pear, and apricot trees lined the banks, interspersed with blooming flowers—viewed at a glance, the scene was dazzling as embroidered silk.

Gazing at this unfamiliar ancient city, Zhao Yu sighed deeply: “If something as absurd as reincarnation could happen to me, then I must truly be destined to become 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.

His parents were overjoyed: they gave the master generous payment 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 several novels at home, spent years as a keyboard political analyst, keyboard historian, and keyboard economist, and by nearly forty, seeing no hope of becoming a god-tier author after multiple failed books, he reluctantly joined a delivery crew—running food orders while searching for writing inspiration…

Just as Zhao Yu believed 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 *I Crossed Over with Five Gorgeous Women*, savoring the shallow joy of those quiet moments before taking an order.

Then, misfortune fell from the sky: a BYD Song SUV flew out of nowhere and slammed into Zhao Yu, then burst into flames.

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

When Zhao Yu opened his eyes again, he had been reincarnated as a prince just one step away from becoming emperor.

Crucially, as an author who had written several historical novels set in the Northern and Southern Song dynasties, Zhao Yu knew well: Zhao Xu’s son would die soon after birth, then Zhao Xu’s daughter would also die suddenly; struck by these consecutive blows, Zhao Xu—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 ascending the throne, Zhao Ji was corrupt, decadent, wasteful, and obsessed with grandeur, squandering the Song dynasty’s wealth and triggering the Jingkang Humiliation.

This turned the original Zhao Yu into collateral damage: the Jin forces herded him and other Zhao Song royalty like livestock northward.

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

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

Zhao Ji requested the body be returned to Kaifeng Prefecture for burial, but the Jin refused; the corpse was burned on the spot, and no one knew where its ashes were finally laid.

It wasn’t because of that old man’s prophecy that Zhao Yu had been destined to become emperor—it was because of the original’s utterly tragic end. Zhao Yu, determined not to meet the same fate, 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 reincarnated as an imperial attendant; Li Lin, the top-tier military commentator; Ye Shi Yun, the top-tier finance livestreamer; Ma Xiao Jiao, the fallen queen of the tech circle; Yuan Qing Cheng, the goddess of grafting and seedling cultivation—sat in a circle, processing the fact that they had crossed over.

After a long silence, Ye Shi Yun broke it: “Let’s talk—how did we end up here?”

Ma Xiao Jiao said: “We 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 vehicle, 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 Empress Liu gave birth to a prince, and the Emperor is overjoyed, surely to reward the harem lavishly.”

“There have been many Empresses Liu in history, but given our attire—Song dynasty palace maid uniforms—the possibilities narrow to either Emperor Zhezong Zhao Xu’s second empress, Liu Qingjing, or Emperor Gaozong Zhao Gou’s favorite consort, Consort Liu.”

“Zhao Gou’s only son, Zhao Fu, was born to Consort Pan, not Consort Liu.”

“Therefore, this Empress 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 arrived at this 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, or sheep.”

“Forget escaping the palace—it’s heavily guarded, with guards every three steps and sentries every five. Impossible to flee. And forget escaping Bianliang City: the real late Northern Song is just like *Water Margin*—bandits, pirates, and outlaws everywhere. Without a powerful man to protect us, the five of us leaving Bianliang will be robbed, raped, and sold into brothels.”

“And when the Jingkang Humiliation happens, the whole realm collapses. No matter where we run, there will be no safety—only chaos, rebel armies, and bandits.”

Hearing this, Li Lin—always yearning to command armies and conquer the Xiongnu—brightened instantly, 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 others still didn’t grasp the gravity, 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 dies in three months. Then his young daughter, Princess Yangguo, dies suddenly of illness. These blows will devastate Zhao Xu, whose already frail health will cause him to die 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, history’s greatest fool of an emperor.”

“Worse—he’s not just incompetent, he’s insatiable. At his peak, his harem exceeded ten thousand women. Even then, he sneaked out of the palace to consort with courtesans like Li Shishi and Zhao Yuannu. And the five of us? We’ll likely become five among his ten thousand.”

Li Lin and the other three stared, stunned: “No way?!!!”

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

“Don’t scare me,” Ma Xiao Jiao asked. “I heard people say we’re in some Empress Dowager’s palace—how could we 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 into the new emperor’s harem—that’s Song custom.”

“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, they could easily imagine: if the emperor desired a woman in his harem, how could she possibly escape his grasp?

“Can we ask to return to our families?” Yuan Qing Cheng asked.

“Song palace maids typically enter at thirteen and leave at twenty-five. During that time, they’re as good as sold to the palace—family has no say in their birth, illness, or death.”

“In other words, we can only leave if the palace releases us—never by our own choice.”

“We’re all new, lowly palace maids, none over fifteen. To leave this way, we’d have to wait at least ten years.”

Hearing “ten years,” the women fell silent again.

After a long pause, Li Lin declared her stance: “I don’t know what you think, but I refuse to become Zhao Ji’s concubine. Even if he were merely lustful, his utter incompetence is unbearable. I won’t serve such a man.”

Zhang Chun smiled bitterly: “Becoming a favored concubine of the emperor? That’s luck. Otherwise, with our modern values—our belief in gender equality, our free-spirited, reckless nature—we might just get ourselves executed.”

“No way?” Ma Xiao Jiao gasped.

“I’m not exaggerating.”

“First, the harem’s hierarchy and etiquette are rigid. One misstep, and you break protocol. Without protection, you’re beaten to death in minutes.”

“And for favor? The women in the harem will do anything. Haven’t you watched *The Legend of Zhen Huan*? The real harem’s scheming, deceit, and cruelty are no less than that—perhaps even worse. What do they fight for? The emperor’s favor. Win it, and you command wind and rain. Lose it, and you lose your life.”

“A few years ago, in this very harem, because Zhao Xu favored Consort Meng over Liu Qingjing, Liu Qingjing orchestrated a witchcraft scandal. Every person in Consort Meng’s court was beaten bloody by Liu’s men—many had their tongues cut out, limbs severed.”

Hearing this, Li Lin and the other three felt their hearts grow heavy.

Yuan Qing Cheng asked bitterly: “So… becoming the emperor’s plaything is our best option?”

Zhang Chun sighed: “I hate to admit it, but in this feudal society, the emperor is heaven. Especially within the harem—without his favor, even the greatest talent has no chance to shine.”

This conclusion was unbearable for these women, who had been so successful in their past lives.

After a long silence, Li Lin finally asked slowly: “Can we find a way to replace the emperor?”

…

(End of Chapter)