Zhuang Dongqing transmigrated into a novel.
Good news: It’s a power fantasy story.
Bad news: The one living the fantasy is the male lead, and it has absolutely nothing to do with him

The original character had humble origins but was wickedly smart—with a mind as sharp as a blade and no less than 800 schemes at the ready. He was the male lead’s top strategist, shielding him from swords, plotting his rise, and even—unfortunately—blocking a dose of aphrodisiac.

Later, during a tense back-and-forth of betrayal and manipulation with the kingdom’s only foreign-surnamed prince, the strategist somehow developed a twisted romance with him.
Eventually, thanks to that aphrodisiac incident, he had a baby, reconciled with said prince, and helped the male lead conquer the final boss.

Zhuang Dongqing: …
What kind of “I suffer so you can shine” plotline is this?!

Wait—hold on.
Didn’t that aphrodisiac part already…?

Recalling the moment he woke up a few days ago, Zhuang Dongqing slowly closed his eyes.

Urgent Question: If I self-destruct here, can I return to the modern world??

After spending over a month in the ancient era—with no Pad, no Phone, and definitely no Wi-Fi—Zhuang Dongqing had finally had enough.
After one too many typos in traditional characters, he officially kicked the “genius advisor” persona to the curb, packed up his remaining common sense, and headed straight to the Big Boss’s estate.

He went straight to the point:

“I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”

The Big Boss remembered him, but his face was icy.

“And?”

Zhuang Dongqing went for broke. Not only did he list off an entire rap of specialty dishes from the capital, he also laid out a full set of demands for his maternity residence—
South-facing, warm in winter and cool in summer, plenty of servants, etc, etc…

He’d made up his mind. Best case, the guy says yes.
Worst case, well… rumor had it the Big Boss had a bad temper.
Zhuang Dongqing couldn’t bring himself to off himself—it hurt too much.
If the Boss could help him out of this world, that’d be fine too.

No way was he going to starve and suffer while having a baby. He’d never been that kind of tragic character.

The Big Boss, ever composed, only said:

“That’s it?”

Scratching his palm, Zhuang Dongqing mumbled:

“If there’s pocket money each month… that’d be even better.”

Once inside the prince’s manor, life was good.
Food, drink, entertainment—he had it all.

Except… there was one tiny detail he didn’t expect.

One morning, as the sun just began to rise, Zhuang Dongqing wobbled out of bed, dark circles under his eyes, hand trembling as he poured himself a cup of tea.
The moment the warm liquid touched his throat, he felt fingers—long and elegant as jade—part the bed curtains behind him.

“Qingqing, sneaking off again?”

That slow, deliberate voice made Zhuang Dongqing’s spine go stiff.

Clutching his sore waist, Zhuang Dongqing couldn’t help but think:

Wait a second… isn’t this supposed to be his power fantasy?!