Chapter 1: Transmigrated as the Empress?! (Please add to your collection! Please vote for recommendations!)

“Something terrible has happened! Something terrible! Your Grace has thrown herself into the well! Somebody, come quickly!”

“Help! Help!”

“Your Grace! Your Grace! Please don’t frighten your humble servants! Your Grace!”

The commotion from all around made Fang Xu frown with annoyance. Did they not know today was a day of rest? And what time was it anyway? How could they make such a racket at this hour? Was anyone supposed to get any decent sleep?

But just as Fang Xu was about to yell at these people to see if they were quite finished, he was horrified to discover that his body felt utterly weak and powerless. Worse yet, there was a clammy, wet sensation clinging to his skin, which left him confused.

He forced his eyes open as best he could, only to see several young ladies he didn’t recognize, all weeping with tears streaming down their faces. This only deepened Fang Xu’s bewilderment.

Then he noticed their clothing—it looked exactly like traditional Chinese finery. After all, Fang Xu had at least a passing knowledge of classical attire.

Was he dreaming? Yet a sudden stabbing pain in his lungs jolted his nerves, making him realize this was no dream.

“Where… where is this place?” Fang Xu managed to prop himself up weakly, looking at the women around him.

“Your Grace! You finally woke up! You frightened us so much!” The young women before him, upon hearing his question, looked at Fang Xu with tear-stained faces as though terrified he might not awaken.

“Your Grace?!” Though Fang Xu’s head throbbed as if he were hungover, he was still acutely aware of what they were calling him.

“What ‘Your Grace’? What’s all this about ‘humble servants’? What are you ladies playing at?” A faint, wry smile crossed Fang Xu’s lips as he looked at the young women.

From what Fang Xu could recall, he had finally closed a major deal last night. The project leader, in high spirits, had taken him and the rest of the team to a bar for a celebration. That was the last thing he remembered. By all rights, he should still be at the bar.

But looking around at the ornate surroundings and these unfamiliar young women in their elaborate dress, Fang Xu grew more and more perplexed.

Neither their attire nor the décor was familiar to him. Glancing down at himself, he was shocked to find he was wearing a silk skirt—one of those shimmering, flowing ones.

“Your Grace, what are you saying? What’s this about being afraid of being tired?” The women stared at Fang Xu in confusion, clearly not understanding a word.

“Come on, ladies, enough with the jokes. My boss must have paid you already, right? Where are my clothes?” Fang Xu’s eyes were uneasy, but he managed a forced smile.

He began to suspect he’d been pranked—wasn’t this sort of thing common on those hidden camera shows? If so, these actresses were doing an impressive job. If not for the way they addressed him, Fang Xu might have thought he’d actually traveled through time.

“Your Grace, please don’t frighten us! Your clothes are right here!” The young women nervously presented him with a set of embroidered silken robes.

This stunned Fang Xu. What were they up to? Did they take him for a fool? These were clearly women’s garments.

“Wait…” Fang Xu suddenly realized, to his horror, that his hands were smooth and pale—nothing like the tanned, mature hands he was used to.

He hurriedly took up a bronze mirror, and when he saw his reflection, he was dumbstruck.

The face in the mirror was not his own, but that of a delicate beauty whose gentle features seemed as if they’d crumple with a single touch.

Fang Xu rubbed his face vigorously, but the lovely features remained—it was no disguise, but truly his own face now.

Worse yet, when he got out of bed and threw open the door, the scene outside left him rooted in place.

For the world beyond was nothing like the one he knew. It was as if he’d stepped into the pages of a classical novel, with the same young women following worriedly behind.

They clearly felt responsible for his well-being; should anything happen to him, they would be held to account.

“Ladies… What year is it now?” Fang Xu asked, pale as a ghost.

“Your Grace, what do you mean? This is the first year of Great Qin!” one of the young women replied in surprise.

“What?! The first year of Great Qin? What the hell is that?!” Fang Xu was on the verge of a breakdown. Was this the Qin dynasty? But was there a first year of Qin? He admitted he hadn’t read much, but this seemed wrong.

Yet, judging by their earnest faces, if this was all a deception, these women were better actresses than any young male idol he’d seen.

But what worried Fang Xu even more was something else entirely.

“What did you just call me? Your Grace?” His voice was numb as he watched the women nod.

“What the hell—Your Grace?!” He could no longer contain himself and decided to undo his waistband, only to find the complicated knots fiendishly difficult.

The young women rushed over, grabbing at his hands to stop him.

“Why are you stopping me? Just let me go!” Fang Xu was frustrated—the complicated belt was already infuriating, and now these women were getting in his way. Did they think he couldn’t handle the truth?

Still, brute force prevailed, and he managed to undo the belt. Relieved to find his most precious part still intact, he then glanced at the nervous young women, who stood with their heads bowed, unable to meet his gaze, as if they’d done something wrong.

“You called me ‘Your Grace’? But I’m a man! How could I be a consort?” Fang Xu demanded, feeling deceived.

The women finally looked up, trembling. “Your Grace, it is precisely because you are a man that you are the royal consort.”

Fang Xu was dumbfounded. “Absurd! How could a man be a royal consort?” But then he stopped short—after all, history was full of emperors with male lovers.

Could this Great Qin emperor be one of those? Was this some kind of joke?

Before he could process it, the young women began to whisper among themselves.

“What are you talking about?” Fang Xu snapped. He hated people whispering in front of him, as if they thought he was dead or invisible.

“Your Grace, we dare not. Please, do not be angry!” they replied, heads bowed.

“All right, enough with the pitiful looks. What were you whispering about?” Fang Xu could never bear to see girls looking so aggrieved, let alone several at once.

He pressed them, and finally, under his coaxing and threats, the young women revealed what they’d been discussing.

What he heard nearly made him faint.

Today was the first year of Great Qin, the day when the founding emperor ascended the throne.

And Fang Xu—now in the body of a youth blessed by the goddess of fortune—had been chosen as the emperor’s royal consort. Tonight, he was to share the emperor’s bed.

“What the hell kind of fortune is this?!” Fang Xu finally understood how he’d arrived in this situation.

He really had traveled through time, but into a world of Great Qin utterly unlike the history he knew. That, in itself, wasn’t the problem.

The problem was—why did he have to serve in the imperial bedchamber? Why was he chosen?

Apparently, it was decided by drawing lots. The original owner of this body must have been truly unlucky.

But Fang Xu felt he was the unluckiest of all, for the body’s former owner had thrown himself into a well rather than submit, determined to preserve his chastity. In a way, Fang Xu admired his resolve; in another, he was left exasperated—couldn’t he have waited until after the ordeal?

Fang Xu was no child; he understood perfectly well what “serving in the bedchamber” meant, but he still couldn’t quite accept it.

Others who traveled through time ended up with three wives and four concubines, or at least a female spouse. But what about him? He was about to be… No, he was about to be the one on the receiving end.

This realization sent a chill down his spine, and he finally understood why people said the peach blossoms were in bloom.

“Um… Is there any way to avoid this duty? Isn’t there anyone else?” Fang Xu made one last attempt to resist. Anything was better than this fate.

“Your Grace, please do not speak such nonsense. His Majesty has only you as his beloved consort,” the women interrupted him quickly, as if afraid such talk might be overheard and bring him harm.

“What? Is there really no other way? I have to go through with this?” Fang Xu protested, but the women frowned and exchanged glances, as if considering something.

He caught a glimmer of hope.

“Ladies, is there a way out? Please tell me! Saving someone is like saving a life!” Fang Xu, once a salesman, was a master at reading people, and he could see they were holding something back.

“There is a way, but we don’t know if Your Grace would agree,” one of them said, her eyes complicated.

“Of course I’ll agree! Tell me! What is it?” Fang Xu was desperate.

“If Your Grace were to be made a eunuch, His Majesty would not require you to serve in his bed,” the woman replied seriously.

Fang Xu was instantly petrified.

“A eunuch?!” Anyone who’d read historical novels or watched period dramas knew what that meant: castration.

To ask him to go through with that—was this a joke?

But seeing their earnest faces, Fang Xu faltered. Was there truly no other option?

“Is there really no other way?” he asked hesitantly, unwilling to choose either fate.

“Your Grace, don’t even think of running away. If you’re caught, you’ll be executed by a thousand cuts,” one of the women warned, sensing his intent.

At her words, Fang Xu’s face fell ashen. Was there truly no escape for him?