Song Luan never expected to get anything out of Zhao Nanyu, nor did she believe for a second that he would ever fall for her.

Sure, this body of hers was undeniably beautiful—but a man like him? With that deeply concealed, obsessive streak? Who knew what his type even was? Probably something just as twisted.

She had only acted on a whim, testing the waters, trying to seduce him just to see how he’d react.

And, just as expected, the great pervert’s self-control was freakishly strong. Not a single flicker of emotion, not even the barest hint of desire. His face remained indifferent, his heartbeat steady, his sharp gaze as cold as ever.

Boring.

So boring.

Zhao Nanyu really was exactly as The Regent had described—distant, unattainable, completely disinterested in women. And if he ever treated one differently?

It meant he had a use for her.

So yes, calling him ruthless was putting it mildly.

Song Luan kicked off her shoes, peeled off her outer robe, and rolled onto the bed, cocooning herself tightly in the blankets. She wriggled around for a bit before pulling the covers over her head and drifting off to sleep.

Zhao Nanyu sat at the edge of the bed, quietly watching her. His pale fingers traced lightly over her cheek, his dark pupils deepening in color. Slowly, the corners of his lips curled upward—a smile, sharp and chilling.

As if he didn’t know.

As if he couldn’t see right through her.

She didn’t have a shred of real affection for him.

….

Early summer arrived, bringing sweltering heat.

Lately, Zhao Nanyu had been scarce, busy to the point of vanishing. Song Luan could easily guess what he was up to—this was the year the male lead aligned himself with the Sixth Prince.

From this moment on, Zhao Nanyu’s ascent in the imperial court would be unstoppable.

In the brutal struggle for the throne, the Sixth Prince would emerge victorious, carving his way through blood and betrayal. And standing behind him? Zhao Nanyu—his ruthless strategies, his calculated moves, all paving the way.

By the time the new emperor ascended, Zhao Nanyu would be the power behind the throne.

Counting on her fingers, Song Luan estimated there was less than a year left until the new emperor ascended the throne. In other words, Zhao Nanyu’s moment of triumph was just around the corner.

It wasn’t that she was being delusional—she genuinely believed Zhao Nanyu’s murderous intent toward her had lessened. Gone were the days of poisoning, stabbing, and arson. Occasionally, she even thought she glimpsed something close to affection in his eyes.

But whatever it was, she didn’t care. The less she saw of him, the better.

That afternoon, Third Madam Zhao suddenly summoned her for lunch.

Third Madam Zhao—Zhao Wenyan’s mother—was a devout Buddhist who had never meddled in Zhao Nanyu’s affairs. During the holidays, she would rather he not come to pay respects. She found his presence too dark, too suffocating.

Song Luan took her time getting ready, draping herself in gold and silver, painting on an extravagant, strikingly vivid face of makeup. Only then did she leisurely head to the western courtyard.

By the time she arrived, the meal had already been set. Third Madam Zhao lifted her eyes, only to be greeted by a woman shimmering in gold, lips painted a deep red, her entire appearance garish and excessive. Her brows furrowed immediately—years had passed, yet Song Luan hadn’t changed one bit.

Suppressing a heavy sigh, Third Madam Zhao reminded herself to be patient. This daughter-in-law of hers was impossible to reason with—spoiled, temperamental, quick to retaliate if scolded, and utterly shameless when wronged. A single reprimand could earn you tenfold of her backtalk, followed by tears, tantrums, and threats to return to her family, vowing never to come back.

Every time she saw Song Luan, she felt a headache brewing. It had taken her a great deal of mental preparation just to invite her over today. Forcing a smile, she said, “Ah Luan, have a seat.”

Song Luan settled in across from her, her gaze landing on an unfamiliar young woman at the table.

Third Madam Zhao gestured toward her and introduced, “This is Ruoyun, a young lady from the Yang family of Suzhou.”

Her niece.

Yang Ruoyun had the delicate charm of a classical beauty—barefaced yet effortlessly graceful. Her features were small and refined, her smile gentle, exuding the quiet elegance of someone well-versed in propriety.

Song Luan gave her a slight nod, a half-hearted greeting.

In the original novel, Yang Ruoyun was a pivotal character—a devoted second female lead hopelessly in love with the male lead. Every year, she would stay with the Zhao family for a short while. As a child, she had followed Zhao Nanyu everywhere. When she grew up, she longed to marry him.

As far as supporting female leads went, Song Luan considered her one of the smarter ones. She was careful never to let the male lead see through her schemes. Zhao Nanyu preferred innocent, timid little white rabbits, so Yang Ruoyun played the role of the silent guardian, enduring everything without complaint, never demanding status, never forcing his hand.

She had masterfully exploited the fact that the original Song Luan didn’t care for Zhao Nanyu. Slowly, she inched closer to her, whispering in her ear, subtly urging her to divorce him. When that failed, she planted another seed—coaxing her into seeking out other men, which ultimately enraged Zhao Nanyu enough to seal her fate.

“Good day, Cousin-in-law.” Yang Ruoyun greeted her sweetly.

Song Luan returned a polite smile. “Good day, Cousin.”

At that moment, a sudden realization hit her—Zhao Nanyu and Yang Ruoyun were actually quite a match. A ruthless young master and a scheming, devoted woman—weren’t they a perfect pair?

According to The Minister of Power, the male lead’s type was delicate, clingy, and effortlessly coquettish—a fragile beauty who cried easily and evoked both a man’s possessiveness and his need to protect.

Song Luan mused to herself—perhaps no man was immune to that particular temptation.

Delicate, frail women had a way of stirring a man’s protective instincts.

Madam Zhao truly had no idea about her niece’s feelings for Zhao Nanyu, nor did she have any plans to arrange a marriage or concubine for him. Instead, she sighed, her voice filled with earnest concern. “Your father-in-law has been losing sleep over this matter.”

Song Luan feigned worry. “Oh? What’s wrong?”

Madam Zhao continued, “The first and second branches of the family are thriving with children, but our third branch… we are thin on heirs. When Shige was born prematurely, he was frail and often fell ill…” She paused to dab at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief before pressing on. “Now he’s four years old. Don’t you think it’s time for you and A’Yu to have another child?”

This wasn’t something she personally wanted to bring up. In truth, even Master Zhao didn’t care. It was the old madam who insisted she call Song Luan over.

The old madam might despise Zhao Nanyu, but she absolutely adored Shige. It pained her to see the child growing up alone without siblings to keep him company. And now that all the other married grandsons had multiple children, it was only natural for her to push for more heirs.

Madam Zhao wasn’t blind—she could tell that Song Luan had no affection for Zhao Nanyu, let alone love. She had even heard that Shige’s birth was a complete accident. Four years of marriage, yet no other children—clearly, their relationship was strained.

Song Luan had assumed Madam Zhao had called her over to set up Yang Ruoyun with Zhao Nanyu. She had even planned out her reaction—first throwing a fit, then reluctantly agreeing. The more women the male lead had, the less time he’d have to meddle in her affairs. Win-win!

But all her calculations failed to predict this—Madam Zhao was actually urging her to have another child with Zhao Nanyu?!

Oh my god.

Song Luan didn’t even know how to begin explaining. The truth was, she and Zhao Nanyu had barely even shared a bed, let alone done anything that could result in a child. Sure, they had slept side by side plenty of times since she transmigrated here, which sounded intimate, but in reality? Zhao Nanyu had never once touched her. He was as abstinent as a monk, completely devoid of any earthly desires.

Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t laid a hand on her in the past four years. No wonder the original owner had ended up seeking out men elsewhere!

Given the circumstances, how could they possibly have another child?

Song Luan forced out a dry laugh. “Well… children are a matter of fate.”

Madam Zhao’s expression dimmed with disappointment. She had no real desire to meddle in their affairs, but with the old madam breathing down her neck, she had no choice.

“I can tell that your relationship has improved a lot lately,” she said, clearly under a major misapprehension. “With things going well between you two, having another child shouldn’t be difficult.”

Madam Zhao probably thought Song Luan’s response was just an excuse—an unwillingness to bear a child for a man she had no feelings for. After all, Shige’s conception had been anything but honorable. That single pre-marriage incident had led to his existence.

And those ten months of pregnancy? Song Luan had made the Zhao household miserable—throwing fits, crying, smashing things. The place had been in utter chaos.

Maintaining a perfectly straight face, Song Luan pretended not to pick up on her meaning. “When the time is right, the child will come naturally.”

Unexpectedly, Yang Ruoyun chimed in to back her up. “Aunt, Cousin-in-law is right. Children are a matter of fate.”

Of course, Yang Ruoyun didn’t want her to have another child. She spent her days hoping Song Luan would stir up trouble, push Zhao Nanyu to his breaking point, and drive a wedge between them.

Madam Zhao could talk until her lips went dry, but it was useless. Song Luan was completely unfazed, impervious to persuasion. With a deep sigh, Madam Zhao finally relented. “Since that’s how you feel, then next month, come with me to the temple and draw a divination lot. If the Bodhisattva sees your sincerity, perhaps a child will come.”

She’d be better off praying to Zhao Nanyu himself.

That man wasn’t normal. His self-restraint was terrifying—if he didn’t want to touch her, then he simply wouldn’t.

Song Luan put on her best clueless expression. “Alright.”

Madam Zhao had run out of options. Even though she knew full well that Song Luan wouldn’t genuinely pray for a child, she figured it was still worth a try.

As the conversation went on, she started noticing something different about Song Luan. She was still beautiful, of course, but before, she had been sharp-edged, relentless when she had the upper hand, and utterly unreasonable. Today, however, she seemed… calmer. Even her temperament had softened. And when she smiled—sweet and bewitching—it was hard not to be drawn in.

As dusk approached, Song Luan made her excuses to leave. Madam Zhao didn’t try to stop her, though she hesitated several times, struggling to find the right words. In the end, she sighed and warned, “A’Luan… from now on, you should cut ties with those other men. Don’t entertain thoughts you shouldn’t have. Nanyu… he’s not someone you want to provoke.”

She had seen it long ago—Zhao Nanyu was not a man to be trifled with. His methods were ruthless, leaving no room for escape.

And all those men Song Luan had kept—her little lovers, her dalliances with powerful figures—there was no way Zhao Nanyu wasn’t aware of them.

Where she went, what she said—none of it could possibly escape Zhao Nanyu’s notice. That was precisely why Madam Zhao had pleaded with him to spare her nephew back at the Court of Judicial Review. Unfortunately, Zhao Nanyu hadn’t granted her that mercy.

Song Luan thought her words made perfect sense and nodded vigorously. “Mm-hmm! You’re absolutely right!”

She decided then and there—whenever she saw He Run in the future, she would take a detour!

But she had still underestimated the mess the original Song Luan had left behind.

Just as she returned to her courtyard that evening, her maid stammered out a report—some young courtesan had come looking for her. Worse still, the fool had shown up just in time to run into Zhao Nanyu, who was returning from the palace.

The courtesan was bold—when the servants refused to let him in, he had the audacity to shout for Song Luan at the top of his lungs, refusing to leave.

Zhao Nanyu kicked him on the spot, sending him flying into a pillar. The impact left him coughing up blood.

A chill crept up Song Luan’s spine, climbing all the way to the back of her head.

She was so dead tonight.

=^_^=