Fated in Verse and Brush

At the palace banquet, the Crown Prince publicly announced, “Whoever completes my verse shall become the future Crown Princess.” In my past life, I was the first to recite the matching line. The Prince then assumed I was the one who shared a poetic connection with him in the Peach Blossom Grove. But on our wedding night, my maid revealed that she was, in fact, the one who had exchanged verses with the Prince in the grove. The Prince, having lured me into revealing the location where I supposedly composed the poem, realized my answer did not match his memory. Enraged, he immediately ordered a cup of poisoned wine for me. I drank it and died soon after. After ascending the throne in that lifetime, the Emperor’s first act was to posthumously honor my maid as his Empress. His second was to grant me that fatal cup of poison. He said to me, “Had you not impersonated Rushuang, you could have lived a peaceful life. You never should have coveted what was not yours. The position of Crown Princess rightfully belonged to her. This absurd mix-up is your debt to Rushuang—now accept the consequences.” With that, he forced the poisoned wine down my throat, pinning my arms and pressing on my chest. Almost instantly, my vision darkened, my consciousness faded, and I collapsed. My last thought was: *Such potent poison… how venomous, how bitter…* When I opened my eyes again—reborn after drinking the poison—I pushed my maid forward without hesitation, determined to repay the blood-debt from my past life. If the Crown Prince wanted to marry her, so be it—I would give them exactly what they wished for. At the banquet, the Prince sat at the head seat, in high spirits. After sipping a glass of fine tribute wine, he rose and proposed a poetry challenge: “If the contrary wind understands intent—” he announced to the assembly of elegant, talented noble ladies, “Whoever can recite the next line shall become my Crown Princess.” Anticipation was written plainly across his face. As soon as he finished speaking, the noble ladies vied to respond, yet none gave an answer that satisfied him. His expression grew tense and disappointed. Then, as luck would have it, all eyes turned to me, standing quietly in the corner. Given my father’s position as Head of the Hanlin Academy and my mother’s status as the eldest daughter of the Imperial College Chancellor, my family’s scholarly prestige placed me among the expected candidates to become a royal consort. But in this life, I no longer wished to enter the palace. I had grown deeply weary of its intrigues, its shadowy schemes, and the damp, unseen currents of power. The imperial court was a deep, unfathomable whirlpool—a place where a sheltered young woman from an elite family could easily be crushed and scattered like dust. Recalling the tragedies of my past life, I resolved not to entangle myself again. I rose, faced Crown Prince Lu Yichen, and bowed. “Your Highness,” I said, “the one who truly shares a connection with you may not necessarily be among the noble ladies. Perhaps she is an overlooked daughter of a minor house, or even a servant. Would you consider expanding the search to find your true match?” The Prince found my suggestion reasonable and declared boldly to all present: “From this moment, regardless of status or background, whoever can complete my verse shall become my Crown Princess.” Hearing this, I smiled faintly and pushed the eager maid, Rushuang, forward. *In this life, you shall have your wish—go and taste the grind of the palace machinery yourself.* Startled and feigning innocence, Rushuang clutched her sleeves nervously as she stood in the center of the hall. When the Prince saw her, his eyes lit up. Moved by her timid demeanor, he softened his gaze and reassured her: “Do not be afraid. If it was truly you that night, I will see you duly honored.” Tears welled in Rushuang’s eyes. Trembling, she recited the next line: “If the contrary wind understands intent, do not easily let it destroy us.” Prince Lu Yichen’s eyes widened in recognition. He strode swiftly toward her, even bumping into a table without noticing. Taking her hand, he turned to the Empress and declared: “Mother, my Crown Princess is her—she completed the verse from that night. Only the two of us know that poem.” Witnessing her son treat the selection of his consort so lightly, the Empress grew furious. She slammed her hand on the table. “Absurd! How can a maid become the Crown Princess? The dignity of the royal family would be shamed! To select a Crown Princess in such a reckless manner shows no regard for imperial decorum. In my judgment, the Crown Princess must come from a noble family—nothing less.” She then turned her gaze to me. “If the Crown Prince must marry, let it be the daughter of the Liu family. That would be a fitting match. As for this maid—she may, at most, become a chamber servant.” Hearing this, the Prince grew convinced that I had manipulated the Empress into favoring me. He shot me a sharp, hostile glare. I met his gaze calmly, then knelt before the Empress and said: “The Crown Prince and Rushuang share true affection—a match made by heaven. They are a perfect pair. I admit my own talents are shallow, nowhere near Rushuang’s brilliance. I have no wish to take what another loves—I beg Your Majesty to revoke your proposal.” In this life, I knew full well that Rushuang had stolen the verse I had composed while drunk. Still, I did not expose her. I gave them my blessing. My words gave the Prince pause. Then, with a cold laugh, he remarked: “Mother, how could Liu Ruyue become Crown Princess when she cannot even complete a simple verse? It seems her reputed talents are empty, her ambitions greater than her abilities. It would not surprise me if her past poems were also written by Rushuang.” The Empress looked at me with sorrowful eyes. “Young Lady Liu, why could you not complete the verse? Both your parents are esteemed scholars. You were raised in a refined, literary household—surely you should have been able to reply with ease.” At the mention of my parents, my eyes reddened. In my past life, they had been tortured and executed for seeking justice on my behalf. In this reborn life, I would never again endanger them for the sake of a poem. I kowtowed deeply and pleaded: “I am not a suitable match for the Crown Prince. Our hearts do not resonate. I beg Your Majesty to grant Prince Lu Yichen and Rushuang your blessing in marriage.” In my heart, I swore: *This time, I will not lose. My fate is mine to control.* Hearing this, Lu Yichen took Rushuang’s hand, and they both knelt before the Empress. Rushuang gathered her courage and added: “Your Majesty, the Crown Prince is a dragon among men. If in the future he wishes to take consorts or concubines, this humble maid will surely be understanding.” But the Prince cut her off firmly and vowed to the Empress: “Mother, I will stay devoted to her alone—one wife, my whole life long. I will never take a concubine.” The Empress rose to her feet, looking down at them with cold indifference. “This union has my sanction,” she said. “You may proceed—and may you bear the consequences.”