YWTGU -Chapter 73 Your Majesty… You’re a Woman?!

Li An’s hand froze completely.

Not just paused—
It locked in place as if struck by lightning.

His entire body felt as though it had been hit by a thunderbolt, unable to move at all.

Because what he saw… was not the chest of a man.

His mind buzzed loudly, like someone had smashed the back of his head with an iron rod.

He stared down at the half-open inner lining of Zhao Ling’er’s armor. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

The tent fell into an eerie silence.

Only Zhao Ling’er’s nervous, uneven breathing.

And Li An’s own frantic heartbeat.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Slowly, Li An raised his head.

He looked at her face.

A face he had thought from the very first day was “too delicate,” “too soft,” “too unmanly.”

He had mocked her countless times in his mind.

“This emperor looks way too effeminate.”

“Has his voice not broken yet?”

“Does he secretly prefer men?”

Now he finally understood why.

It wasn’t that the “young emperor” was effeminate.

The young emperor was, in fact, genuinely a woman.

Li An would never have imagined it.

Those cross-dressing scenes from costume dramas—

He had actually encountered one in real life.

He should have realized earlier!

Especially that absurd situation with the empress asking him to provide an heir—wasn’t that precisely because the emperor herself was a woman?

“Your Majesty… you… you are…”

Li An swallowed hard, staring at the pale skin before him, and after a long moment finally managed to ask.

Zhao Ling’er closed her eyes.

In the end, she nodded.

“Yes. Li An… as you can see…”

“I am a woman.”

“My true name is Zhao Ling’er. I was the Seventh Princess of the late Emperor of Great Qi.”

At those words, Li An’s brain completely shut down.

His worldview since transmigrating shattered.

Reassembled.

Then shattered again.

Several times over.

The information overload was too much.

Since arriving in Great Qi, he had experienced countless absurd events.

He had been scolded into becoming top scholar.

Sold offices and ended up hailed as a capable statesman.

Sabotaged things and became a legendary strategist.

Sent technology to Northern Yan only to have it used against himself.

But none of that—

None of it—

Was as explosive as this.

The Emperor of Great Qi… was a woman.

The “unmanly,” “possibly gay” young emperor he had mocked in his head—

Was actually female.

And… quite beautiful.

He suddenly remembered that day in the imperial study, when he had leaned close to whisper something.

He had caught a faint floral fragrance.

At the time, he thought, “This emperor even picks flirtatious incense.”

Now he realized—

That was probably her natural scent.

The more he thought about it, the more outrageous it felt.

And the more overwhelmed he became.

“You…”

He swallowed again; his throat was dry as sand.

“Then where is Zhao Xuanji? The real emperor?”

Zhao Ling’er blinked weakly.

Her wound was still bleeding.

Her consciousness was slowly fading.

Yet she still forced herself to answer, her voice fragmented, as though squeezing out the last of her strength.

“My elder brother… went to Zhongnan Mountain three years ago… to cultivate the Dao…”

“He never returned.”

“No news at all.”

“Alive, no body. Dead, no corpse.”

“The Empress Dowager panicked.”

“My uncle and the Empress Dowager discussed it for a long time… and finally decided to have me impersonate my brother and ascend the throne.”

“Why you?”

Li An glanced at her wound, but couldn’t stop himself from asking.

Zhao Ling’er gave a faint, helpless smile.

“Because I resemble him.”

“Facial features, build… I was only seventeen that year. Not fully grown.”

“With the dragon robe on, voice lowered… from a distance, it was hard to tell.”

“But up close… it could still be seen.”

“So the Empress Dowager set a rule—no one may approach within three steps of the dragon’s person.”

“Beyond three steps, there would be no mistake.”

That explained it.

Li An recalled that during court sessions, all officials stood far away. Even memorials were passed through eunuchs.

He had assumed it was imperial grandeur.

It was to prevent anyone from discovering she was female.

“Li Aiqing… I didn’t want this either.”

“I was just an ordinary princess.”

“I liked poetry… flowers… painting in the rear garden.”

“But they said… Great Qi cannot be without an emperor.”

“They said if the throne were empty, traitors would seize power, and Northern Yan would invade.”

“They said… only if I stepped forward could the Zhao family’s realm be preserved.”

“So I… cut my hair.”

“Burned my bridal silks.”

“Put on the dragon robe.”

“From that day on, Zhao Ling’er died.”

“What lives is Emperor Zhao Xuanji of Great Qi.”

Listening to her, Li An felt something he didn’t want to admit—

A pang of heartache.

A seventeen-year-old girl cutting off her hair, burning her wedding garments, and climbing onto a throne with no way down.

He, merely transmigrating as a spy, had complained endlessly.

She had gritted her teeth and acted as emperor for three years.

“For three years… you’ve been acting?”

“In front of everyone?”

Zhao Ling’er nodded.

“Yes.”

“In front of the Empress Dowager, the ministers, the world.”

“Only three people know the truth.”

“The Empress Ruoxi. The Empress Dowager. And my uncle.”

“No one else.”

“But I’ve been so tired.”

“Every day afraid to say one word too many. Afraid to take one step too far.”

“I don’t even dare cough in court—afraid it might sound feminine.”

“I can’t wear light clothing in summer. Winter is easier.”

“I cannot fall ill… because if a physician takes my pulse, it’s over.”

“Once I had a high fever for three days and endured it without allowing the physician inside.”

“The Empress Dowager cried outside the hall. In the end, she found a folk doctor under the pretext of asking about a child’s fever, just to obtain the prescription.”

Li An felt even more sympathy.

He remembered the exhausted look she always wore on the throne.

He had thought it was the burden of state affairs.

It wasn’t just that.

It was the exhaustion of pretending to be someone else.

“Li An… only in front of you…”

Zhao Ling’er continued softly,

“I… I feel I can be myself.”

“No need to pretend.”

“No need to stay tense every moment.”

“Because you are someone who never follows rules.”

“You scold me in court. You sell offices. You create absurd things like sanitation taxes… Every act makes the ministers furious.”

“But I find it… exhilarating.”

“The whole world follows rules while deceiving me.”

“The Prime Minister claims loyalty, yet undermines the court.”

“The Grand Commandant says the realm is peaceful, yet embezzles military funds.”

“My uncle claims it’s all for the imperial family, yet seeks to control the government.”

“Only you.”

“You are the least capable of pretending in all of Great Qi.”

“You want money—it’s written on your face. You want to slack off—you just slack off.”

“You are the least minister-like minister I’ve ever seen.”

“But also the only one… I trust.”

Silence filled the tent after she finished.

Outside, the wind rustled the canvas softly.

Li An knelt beside her, watching her face grow paler.

The secret beneath that dragon robe had been hidden for three years.

Today, it shattered before him.

Perhaps that was good.

Without the disguise, she could finally be herself.

“Your Majesty,”

Li An said slowly,

“There is something… I have never told you.”

“What is it?”

He took a deep breath and spoke honestly.

“What Yelü Xiong said… is true.”

Zhao Ling’er’s eyes flickered in surprise.

“What?”

“I am indeed from Northern Yan.”

“My codename is Lone Wolf. I am a top-tier agent of the Blackwater Platform.”

“From the first day I came to Great Qi, I’ve been trying to bring it down.”

“Selling offices, night markets, currency vouchers, the World Expo… none of it was for the people.”

“I was trying to drain Great Qi’s National Fortune.”

“The technologies—sweet potatoes, divine iron, forging techniques—I personally delivered them to Northern Yan.”

“The armor and curved blades on those cavalry yesterday were my designs.”

“The Qi soldiers who fell beneath the wall today—many died by weapons I provided.”

“I am no legendary strategist.”

“No loyal minister.”

“I am just a Northern Yan spy.”

“A cowardly, lying bastard.”

Silence.

Long silence.

So long that Li An thought she had lost consciousness.

But she hadn’t.

She was looking at him quietly.

No anger.

No shock.

Not even disappointment.

“I already knew,” she said.

Li An froze. “You knew? And still trusted me?”

“I suspected. And I watched your actions step by step.”

“There is something strange about you… a force.”

“And I believed… in the end, you would not harm Great Qi or me.”

“Your Majesty—”

“Let me finish.”

Her hand reached out, lightly gripping his wrist.

“Li An.”

Not “Li Aiqing.”

Not “Lord Li.”

Not “beloved minister.”

Just—

Li An.

Chapter 73: Your Majesty… You’re a Woman?! (2/2)

Two words.

Clean and simple.

“From the day you arrived in Great Qi… I felt that Great Qi had changed.”

“You sold official posts, yet you created a new order. You shattered those rotten old rules. Illnesses that had festered unchanged for decades—you stirred them back to life, you of all people, so improper and unconventional.”

“You set up night markets and credit systems, turning everything upside down. But do you know? For the first time, the common people felt hope for their lives. For the first time, there was laughter in the streets.”

“You gave technology to Northern Yan… but you also gave Great Qi sweet potatoes, divine iron, repeating crossbows. The people of Great Qi no longer go hungry. The craftsmen now have refined steel. Last night, Zhang Tiezhu’s repeating crossbow pierced straight through Northern Yan’s iron armor.”

“You say you’re a spy… but just now you led a group of gamblers who smashed gambling dens, farmers who plant sweet potatoes, dung collectors, and ditch diggers—and defeated two hundred thousand cavalry.”

“Every single thing you did intending to ruin Great Qi… in the end only made Great Qi stronger.”

“As for all that… I don’t care what you were thinking.”

“I only look at the results.”

“And the result is… you are the finest minister Great Qi has ever had.”

“There is no second.”

Hah!

Hearing Zhao Ling’er recount his so-called great achievements one by one, Li An felt his nose sting.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something—

Like “I’m not worthy.”

Or “It was all a coincidence.”

Or “I was just lucky.”

But nothing came out.

The man who had been silver-tongued for two lifetimes found himself completely speechless at this moment.

“So whether you’re truly a spy for Northern Yan… it doesn’t matter to me.”

“These identities don’t matter.”

“As long as you stand with Great Qi now.”

“As long as you’re still standing by my side.”

“That’s enough.”

Her eyelids began to droop.

She had lost too much blood.

Her consciousness was fading bit by bit.

“Li An… shouldn’t you pull out the arrow…”

“If you don’t… I’m afraid once I fall asleep… I won’t wake up again…”

Li An snapped back to reality.

Right—the arrow!

He had nearly forgotten the most important thing!

He looked down at the arrow still trembling in her shoulder.

Blood was still seeping out.

The cloth around the wound had already been soaked black-red.

If they delayed any longer, it would truly cost her life.

“Your Majesty, endure it. It may hurt.”

“Mhm.”

He took two deep breaths, then used his dagger to cut away the remaining inner lining around the arrow, exposing where the arrowhead was embedded.

It was a three-edged armor-piercing arrow.

Not too deep, but lodged at the edge of the scapula.

One inch further in would have struck the subclavian artery.

That one inch was the difference between life and death.

This girl was truly lucky.

Li An steadied himself, pressing down on Zhao Ling’er’s shoulder with his left hand and gripping the shaft with his right.

His palms were slick with sweat.

“I’ll count to three.”

Zhao Ling’er gave a slight nod.

“One.”

Before he even said two, he pulled.

Her body jerked violently in pain, arching instantly.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed.

Her lips broke with blood.

But she did not cry out.

Not a single sound.

When the arrowhead came free, dragging flesh and blood with it, the bleeding surged even more violently than before.

Li An immediately pressed a clean cloth strip against the wound, applying firm pressure.

“Don’t move.”

Lying there in obvious agony and weakness, Zhao Ling’er still managed to scold him softly:

“You said you’d count to three… Liar.”

“Sorry.”

Li An kept his head down as he bandaged her, explaining, “Pulling it quickly hurts for a shorter time. Don’t scold me.”

She didn’t press further. She lay quietly, feeling his trembling hands carefully wrap the cloth around her shoulder.

Though shaking, each turn was tight and steady.

Neither too fast nor too slow.

As if afraid of hurting her.

Zhao Ling’er stared at the tent ceiling, her gaze drifting.

“Li An.”

“Mhm.”

“Between my secret and yours… which do you think is more outrageous?”

He thought for a moment.

“They’re equally outrageous.”

“No.”

She spoke softly. “Yours is more outrageous. A spy who became Great Qi’s most loyal minister… That’s unheard of in any dynasty.”

Li An considered it.

It really was absurd.

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“I wasn’t complimenting you.”

“Oh.”

Silence settled again.

“Li An.”

“Mhm.”

“From now on… don’t call me ‘Your Majesty.’”

His hands paused.

“Then what should I call you?”

Her eyes were half-open, watching the tent roof. Daylight filtering through the canvas swayed in the wind.

“Call me Ling’er.”

He was silent for several seconds.

Then continued bandaging.

He tied the final knot.

“There. The bleeding’s stopped for now. Don’t move around. No water, no lifting your arm, no turning over for at least a few days.”

He tossed the blood-soaked arrow onto the ground.

Clang.

Then he sat down on the wooden chair beside her bed.

The tension that had held him rigid finally snapped, and he slumped back, exhausted.

He stared up at the tent ceiling.

Inside, however, his thoughts churned like a storm.

The amount of information tonight might exceed everything he had learned since transmigrating.

The emperor was a woman.

He was a spy.

At their most vulnerable moment, they had exchanged their greatest secrets.

Li An felt an odd sense of release and let out a long breath.

“Ling’er.”

He tried saying it softly.

The corners of Zhao Ling’er’s lips curved slightly.

“Mhm. It’s been a long time since anyone called me that.”

“Get some sleep.”

“There’s still a battle tomorrow.”

She didn’t reply.

But her breathing gradually steadied.

She had fallen asleep.

Li An sat there, watching her sleeping face.

Without the dragon robes and armor.

Without the deliberately lowered voice and composed expression.

She was just an ordinary twenty-year-old girl.

Forced to wear someone else’s dragon robe.

Forced to sit on someone else’s throne.

Holding it together for three years.

And him?

He was a fraud from another world.

He deceived Northern Yan.

Deceived Great Qi.

Deceived everyone.

Yet today… this young girl’s simple “That’s enough” completely defeated him.

In this life—or even adding his previous one—no one had ever spoken such sincere words to him.

No matter who you are, no matter what you’ve done, as long as you stand by my side now, that’s enough.

That kind of trust…

It felt like a massive stone pressing against his heart, so heavy he could barely breathe.

“I’m done for,” he muttered inwardly.

“Completely done for! A dignified modern man, conquered by a cross-dressing ancient empress? What is this damned imperial enchantress!”

Ding!

【Maximum secret exchange completed!】
【Emperor’s true identity revealed — Zhao Ling’er, Princess of Great Qi】
【Host identity confessed — Northern Yan spy】
【Zhao Ling’er’s trust level exceeds maximum — MAX reached】
【National Fortune +5,000】
【Current National Fortune: 250,871】

Li An glanced at the system panel and let out a bitter smile.

This system really did whatever it pleased.

Mutual confessions could increase national fortune?

Fine.

He had never understood its logic anyway.

Exhausted, he slowly closed his eyes.

At some point, he too fell asleep.

…

The next morning.

Sunlight slipped gently through the gaps in the tent curtain.

Golden rays fell upon the ground—and onto the wooden chair beside the bed.

Zhao Ling’er woke first.

Her shoulder still throbbed faintly, but the bleeding had stopped.

Li An had wrapped it tightly.

She flexed her fingers, feeling a bit of strength returning.

Turning her head, she saw Li An still sitting beside her bed, his head tilted against the chair back, sleeping deeply.

His mouth slightly open, breathing steady.

Her blood still stained his clothes.

His hands too.

He hadn’t washed.

He must have sat down right after bandaging her, then drifted off unknowingly.

She made no move to wake him.

Instead, she quietly studied his face.

The sunlight from outside cast sharp shadows along his brow and nose.

Her gaze was calm and clear.

No imperial authority.

No calculated precision of court politics.

Just looking at a person.

A person she allowed herself to trust.

Very carefully, she raised her uninjured hand.

She brushed aside the loose strands of hair from his forehead.

When her fingertips touched his skin, Li An stirred slightly.

He mumbled something in his sleep.

Unclear.

As if dreaming.

She quickly withdrew her hand.

Then whispered softly—

So softly only she could hear:

“Li An… now that things have come to this… you won’t be able to run away anymore.”

Three days later.

The army returned in triumph.

Outside the southern gate of the capital, along the ten-li avenue, the crowds packed so tightly on both sides that it was a sea of people.

The official road was laid with red carpets. Yellow silk hung from the city towers. Even the cracks between the bricks of the walls were stuffed with little flags.

“They’re here! They’re here! Lord Li’s troops have arrived—!”

Someone shouted from within the crowd, and the entire street instantly erupted.

At the front, Li An rode a jujube-red warhorse. Most of his armor had been removed, but the half-worn cloak over his shoulder fluttered in the wind, giving him quite the air of a victorious general.

Of course, that air lasted about three seconds.

Because behind him, Jin Daya—mounted on an even larger white horse—was bellowing at the top of his lungs:

“Make way, make way—!”

“Lord Li is here—!”

“Whoever blocks the road gets trampled—!”

Li An was utterly speechless at his nouveau riche theatrics.

Could you lower your voice? You’d think you were the one who won the battle.

Jin Daya, however, couldn’t care less. He snatched a flag from Zhao Dadan beside him and gave it a mighty wave.

“Great Qi is mighty—!”

“Long live Lord Li—!”

Long live your head! Are you trying to get me killed?!

Li An rolled his eyes but didn’t have the energy to deal with him.

His attention was drawn instead to the imperial carriage following behind.

The curtain was half-lowered. Through the thin gauze, Zhao Ling’er could be seen sitting inside.

Today, she wasn’t wearing dragon robes.

She wore a plain-colored long robe, her hair tied up. She looked refined and scholarly—almost like a frail young gentleman.

Her shoulder was still wrapped in bandages. The wound from the arrow three days ago hadn’t fully healed.

But her eyes sparkled brightly.

Through the gauze curtain, she kept staring intently at Li An on horseback.

Li An naturally felt the young emperor’s gaze and found his skin prickling.

Ever since their mutual confession that night, whenever their eyes met, he felt something off in the way she looked at him.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

Just that feeling… like a cat that had caught a fish—reluctant to eat it, but even more unwilling to let it go.

The thought was strangely unsettling.

Meanwhile, his subordinates marched into the city just as spiritedly as Jin Daya.

Especially Zhang Tiezhu, the great hero of the campaign, who carried a model of the improved repeating crossbow. He walked in the middle of the formation, surrounded by craftsmen from the Ministry of Works.

Those craftsmen practically glowed with pride.

The way they looked at Zhang Tiezhu—chests puffed out, heads held high—was downright radiant.

The procession entered the city gates slowly.

The cheers from the people only grew louder and louder.

The loudest shout came from a middle-aged woman:

“My eldest girl isn’t married yet—Lord Li, look over here—take a look at my daughter!”

Li An glanced over at the booming voice. A three-hundred-pound young woman winked at him.

He nearly fell off his horse in shock.

…

Three days after returning to the capital.

Li An was sprawled in the study of the Zhuangyuan Residence, feet propped on the desk, chair tilted dangerously back.

A blade of grass hung from his mouth, eyelids half-lowered. His entire being radiated, Finally, I can rest for a few days.

But ever since he transmigrated, Heaven had never allowed him to rest for longer than two sticks of incense.

Bang—

The door burst open.

Jin Daya barged in with Zhao Dadan, Liu Banxian, and Qian Xiaohai.

“Lord!”

Jin Daya plopped himself into the chair opposite Li An, face flushed, his two gold teeth gleaming.

Zhao Dadan stood guard by the door, arms crossed.

Liu Banxian clutched a turtle shell, looking profound and mysterious.

Qian Xiaohai slapped a stack of banknotes onto the desk.

“What are you doing? What’s with this formation?”

Li An’s chair wobbled dangerously.

Jin Daya leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“Lord, let’s not beat around the bush.”

“Hm?”

“The throne… it’s time for someone else to sit on it.”

Li An’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

“What?!”

Zhao Dadan added gruffly from behind, “We’re not rebelling. We’re… uh… acting on Heaven’s will—no, no! Let’s call it following the will of the people.”

Liu Banxian took three copper coins from his turtle shell and tossed them onto the ground.

The coins clinked and rolled before settling.

He studied them for two seconds, then lifted his head solemnly.

“My lord! I’ve divined a hexagram. It shows… Great Qi must change its heavens. The new emperor should bear the surname Li.”

“… ”

Li An was so exasperated he laughed.

The whole “draping him in a yellow robe” farce—he never imagined it would happen to him.

“Are you all insane?”

He shot to his feet, the chair crashing behind him.

“You don’t want your heads, fine—but I do! You want me to seize the throne? When the executioner comes, will you take my place?”

Jin Daya slapped his thigh.

“My lord, you’re being modest!”

“Who revived Great Qi’s economy these past years? You!”

“Who forged divine iron? Your men!”

“Who grew sweet potatoes so the people wouldn’t starve? You again!”

“Who stood against two hundred thousand cavalry and won? You!”

“Not to mention the repeating crossbow, labor-for-relief programs, currency notes… Which of those didn’t come from your brain?”

Li An opened his mouth to refute him.

But found he couldn’t.

Because… Jin Daya wasn’t wrong.

Even if none of it had been his original intention.

Qian Xiaohai pulled out a petition and placed it before him.

“My lord, this isn’t just the four of us.”

Li An looked down.

Densely packed names.

Commanders of the city guard, leaders of the inspection squads, craftsmen of the Ministry of Works, agricultural officials, gentry from various prefectures…

At least a hundred names.

A joint petition urging him to ascend the throne.

Li An’s scalp went numb.

“You… you’re trying to kill me!”

Jin Daya chuckled. “My lord, in all of Great Qi—civil and military—there isn’t a single person who doesn’t admire you.”

“His Majesty is a good person, but let’s be honest… the realm is upheld by you.”

“Do you think His Majesty doesn’t know where the people’s hearts truly lie?”

His voice dropped very low at the last sentence.

Li An fell silent.

Of course Zhao Ling’er knew.

She knew better than anyone.

Because she didn’t just know his merits—

She knew he was a spy.

“Enough, enough.”

Li An waved his hand weakly. “Such treasonous talk—just say it and forget it. Don’t mean it.”

“And what kind of divination is that? Did you hide a cheat code in your turtle shell?”

Liu Banxian replied solemnly, “Heaven’s secrets cannot be revealed.”

“Get out.”

The four of them left laughing.

But the petition remained on the desk.

Li An stared at it for a long time.

He flipped through the later pages.

The more he read, the more alarmed he became.

Not just military names.

Even those cowardly civil officials he had once berated on the city wall had signed.

Some minor county magistrates he barely remembered had written, in crooked script, “Humbly submitted by Magistrate So-and-So.”

Even Liu De—the sharp-as-a-monkey Imperial Uncle and father of Liu Wanqing—had pressed his thumbprint.

Li An closed the document.

Leaning back, he exhaled deeply.

Hongmei appeared at the doorway at some point, leaning against the frame, asking coolly:

“They’re gone?”

“Mm.”

“What did they say?”

“They want me to be emperor of Great Qi. They’re trying to force me into rebellion.”

Hongmei’s lips twitched in surprise.

“At least you had the self-awareness not to agree.”

“Thanks.”

She was silent for a few seconds, her gaze resting on the petition.

Then she turned and left, tossing over her shoulder:

“But what they said isn’t entirely nonsense. Your contributions to Great Qi… might indeed qualify you to be their emperor.”

Even Hongmei said that.

Li An was even more speechless.

How had he gone from a laid-back undercover agent to someone on the verge of being wrapped in a yellow robe and pushed onto the throne?

…

The next day.

Golden Throne Hall.

Morning court.

Civil and military officials stood in rows on either side.

But the atmosphere was entirely different from usual.

Because the figure on the dragon throne… had changed.

No—

Looking closely, it was still the same person.

But that person’s appearance had changed.

Zhao Ling’er did not wear dragon robes today.

She wore a light blue dress.

Her hair was not tied up like before, but fell over her shoulders, secured with a simple jade hairpin.

Her features had always been delicate and beautiful.

For three years, she had concealed them beneath dragon robes and imperial bearing.

But today—

She no longer hid anything.

There was no emperor’s majesty on her face.

She faced the familiar court in her true self, dressed as a woman.

From the moment the officials entered the hall, they sensed something was wrong.

Whispers spread.

“Why does His Majesty look… different today? Why is she… wearing women’s clothes?”

“She’s clearly a woman! Is this… truly our Emperor of Great Qi?”

“Hush—lower your voice.”

Li An stood at the head of the military ranks today.

The moment he saw Zhao Ling’er in women’s attire upon the dragon throne, he understood immediately.

She was about to reveal everything.

Sure enough.

Her gaze slowly swept across the entire hall.

Then she stood and spoke:

“My ministers.”

This time, she did not deliberately lower her voice.

It was purely a woman’s voice.

Clear.

Gentle.

Yet each word rang with force:

“There is something I must tell you.”

The hall fell utterly silent.

“I am not Zhao Xuanji.”

The words stunned everyone.

“My true name is Zhao Ling’er. The Seventh Princess of Great Qi.”

“Three years ago, my imperial brother Zhao Xuanji went to Zhongnan Mountain to cultivate the Dao and has not been heard from since.”

“The Empress Dowager and the Imperial Uncle feared turmoil in the realm. So they had me disguise myself as a man and impersonate my brother, ascending the throne.”

“For these three years… I cut my long hair and burned my cosmetics. I wore dragon robes and lowered my voice. Every day, I walked on thin ice.”

“No one was allowed within three steps of me. I did not dare fall ill. I did not dare laugh. I did not dare cry.”

“In the end, I am merely a twenty-year-old woman.”

“Yet I have impersonated an emperor for three years.”

As her words fell—

The entire court exploded.

“What?!”

“His Majesty… His Majesty is a princess?!”

“This… this is impossible!”

“Heavens… no wonder His Majesty never allowed anyone close!”

The reactions among the officials varied.

Some were dumbfounded.
Some collapsed onto the floor.
Some wore expressions that clearly said, I knew it.

Prime Minister Wang Fu stood at the head of the civil officials, his old face shifting between green and pale.

The emperor who had reigned for three years… was a woman?

All his schemes, all his calculations, all his attempts to interpret imperial intent…

Had been a political chess match with a twenty-year-old girl?

That was ten thousand times more humiliating than being played by Li An.

But Zhao Ling’er gave them no time to digest it.

She continued:

“Now that I have made this public, I am no longer suited to sit upon this dragon throne.”

“Great Qi needs a true Son of Heaven.”

“In these three years, I have seen many. Some can govern with civil talent. Some can stabilize the nation with military might. But the one who can truly bear the weight of this realm…”

“There is only one.”

Her gaze shifted directly to Li An.

Firm and unwavering.

“I have decided to abdicate in favor of Li An.”

The hall fell silent again.

This silence was even deeper than before.

Then—

The ministers erupted once more.

“So that’s how it is…”

“His Majesty’s foresight is profound!”

An elderly minister suddenly dropped to his knees, eyes reddening.

“From the very beginning, Your Majesty was selecting the true Son of Heaven for Great Qi!”

“First allowing Lord Li to rise through selling official posts—to temper his methods!”

“Then having him develop the economy, the military, the repeating crossbow—to test his ability!”

“Finally sending him to lead troops against the enemy—to prove his civil and military excellence!”

“This… this was a grand imperial strategy meticulously laid out by Your Majesty!”

The other ministers quickly followed:

“Yes, yes! Lord Li was destined by Heaven all along!”

“Your Majesty is wise! This humble servant kowtows—”

“Welcome the new emperor—”

A vast swath of officials dropped to their knees.

Li An stood frozen in place, utterly speechless.

What the hell…

You’re overthinking it again?!

No—Zhao Ling’er just told you she’s a woman and was forced into this role! Shouldn’t your reaction be shock, panic—even rebellion?

How did this turn into “His Majesty’s master plan” again?

Are your brains wired differently? Why does everything get spun into some grand positive narrative?!

“I… I can’t—”

Li An tried to refuse.

But his voice was drowned out by Jin Daya’s thunderous roar.

“Long live our Emperor—!”

Jin Daya strode forward and knelt at the front of the military ranks, his booming voice shaking dust from the rafters.

Zhao Dadan followed suit: “Long live—!”

Liu Banxian rattled his turtle shell: “Mandate of Heaven—!”

Qian Xiaohai kowtowed frantically: “Long live our Emperor, long live, long live ten thousand years—!”

The generals of the Ministry of War knelt.

The officials of the Ministry of Works knelt.

Revenue, Rites, Justice… they knelt in perfect formation.

Even the ever-calculating Wang Fu, after hesitating three seconds, bent his leg—one that had never bent before.

“This servant… pays homage to the new emperor.”

Outside the hall, the Imperial Guards heard the cries and knelt in unison.

Armor clattered loudly.

“Long live our Emperor—!”

“Long live—!”

“Ten thousand years—!”

The sound spread from the Golden Throne Hall to the palace gates.

From the palace gates to the streets of the capital.

Li An stood amidst a sea of kneeling figures, his mind blank.

All along, he had only wanted to squander Great Qi’s national fortune.

And now he was being pushed onto its dragon throne.

I’m truly impressed.

Great Qi really won’t let me live in peace.

So you’re really going to drape me in a yellow robe by force, huh?

In that moment, Li An understood.

Jin Daya and the others’ earlier “probing”? They didn’t have that kind of courage on their own.

Zhao Ling’er must have been behind it.

…

On the day of the enthronement ceremony, the entire capital was adorned with lanterns and decorations.

Li An donned the dragon robe.

It had been made overnight—yet the craftsmanship was astonishing. Rumor had it that three hundred embroiderers from the Ministry of Works had worked through the night.

He stood before a bronze mirror.

In the reflection, the man wore a bright yellow dragon robe, a ceremonial crown upon his head. Twelve strands of jade beads swayed gently before his brow.

He looked majestic.

But in those eyes… there was still a trace of bewilderment.

How did I end up here?

As for Zhao Ling’er—without question, she had brought the entire nation of Great Qi as her dowry and married him.

She became his empress.

The former empress, Sun Ruoxi, was demoted into the harem as Noble Consort. Liu Wanqing was also granted the title of Noble Consort.

Beneath Zhao Ling’er’s bridal veil, her lips curved in a satisfied smile.

As they walked hand in hand across the red carpet, she whispered softly:

“Li An, I knew you wouldn’t escape. I’ve bound you completely—with all of Great Qi.”

“…I know.”

Li An replied, half amused, half exasperated.

Hongmei stood by his side as always.

She too had changed into new attire.

No longer the black assassin’s garb—

But a pale red dress.

Her expression remained cool.

But the tips of her ears were as red as fire.

Zhao Ling’er walked up to her and gently took her wrist.

“Miss Hongmei.”

Hongmei lowered her head.

“I know your feelings. From the first day you stood beside him, you must have already cared for Li An, haven’t you?”

Hongmei’s lashes trembled. She said nothing.

“Will you stay?”

Zhao Ling’er’s voice was gentle.

“As a noble consort.”

Hongmei was silent for a long time.

So long that Li An thought she might turn and leave.

But in the end—

“I am willing.”

Three words.

Soft as a petal landing on water.

But Li An heard them.

He couldn’t quite describe what he felt.

He knew how much Hongmei had done for him.

Concealing intelligence.

Defying orders.

Shielding him from danger time and again in the shadows.

And in the end, this woman who killed without blinking…

Was trapped within this golden hall because of him.

Just like him.

No one was escaping now.

Liu Wanqing was granted the title of Virtuous Consort.

When she received the decree, she froze for three seconds.

Then her eyes reddened.

She didn’t cry.

She just turned her head, sniffed hard, and muttered softly, “Should’ve been this way long ago.”

The palace maids nearly burst out laughing.

Jin Daya was appointed Commander of the Imperial Guards.

Zhang Tiezhu became Minister of Works.

Liu Banxian was named Director of the Astronomical Bureau—legend had it that upon receiving his appointment, he immediately cast a divination and declared the new dynasty “supremely auspicious,” then spun in place three times with joy.

Zhao Dadan became Commander of the Nine Gates.

Qian Xiaohai was appointed Vice Minister of Revenue.

Not a single one of these troublemakers was left out—they all entered the inner cabinet.

At the final stage of the enthronement ceremony, Li An ascended to the highest point of the Golden Throne Hall.

The very place where he had once cursed the emperor, sold offices, and held decadent banquets.

He stood there, looking down.

The entire court knelt below.

Outside, the people knelt in worship.

Their voices shook the heavens—

“Welcome our Emperor—!”

“Long live—!”

“Long live—!”

“Ten thousand years—!”

The sound was deafening.

Li An stood at the highest point.

The wind swept his dragon robe.

The jade beads of his crown chimed in the breeze.

Only one thought remained in his mind:

Wasn’t I supposed to bankrupt the nation, rake in gold, and return to my modern world? How did I somehow marry the empress and become emperor instead?

Ding!

【Congratulations, Host… on ascending the throne!】

【The entire populace of Great Qi supports you. National Fortune surges!】【National Fortune +50,000】

【Current National Fortune: 300,871】

【System settlement countdown: 1 hour.】

Li An stared at the countdown ticking on the system panel.

Then at the reward column—the staggering amount of gold he had counted three times to confirm.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

A bitter laugh.

A self-mocking laugh.

And then—

A laugh from the heart.

Sitting upon the dragon throne, he muttered quietly to himself:

“In two lifetimes, I’ve built such a massive fortune.”

“And every damn bit of it came from accidents.”

His gaze swept across the hall.

Zhao Ling’er stood at his side, veil lifted, smiling.

Hongmei stood on the other side, expressionless—but her ears still red.

Jin Daya grinned below, his two gold teeth nearly blinding in the sunlight.

Liu Wanqing lowered her head slightly, eyes red but lips curved upward.

Zhang Tiezhu clutched his crossbow blueprints, deep in thought.

Outside, the people kept shouting.

Their voices hoarse—yet still shouting.

Li An sat upon the throne he once thought, Whoever wants it can have it.

He slowly closed his eyes.

The wind was strong.

The sky was vast.

The sun shone perfectly.

And on the system panel—

The settlement countdown ticked down, second by second.

00:59:58

00:59:57

00:59:56

…