When Ji Ping’an first transmigrated, her situation was already at rock bottom.

The orphaned daughter of a merchant family with no one to rely on, she was left to the mercy of her distant relatives, the Song family, who tightly controlled her marriage prospects. With no way forward and no way out, her future was grim.

Soon, the male lead Song Huaizhang would weave a grand net of affection to lure her in, make her his concubine, seize her entire inheritance, rise up in rebellion, and overthrow the tyrant emperor.

And when the Song family raised their banner and claimed the throne, Ji Ping’an—the once-useful concubine—would quietly perish in some hidden corner of the inner residence.

Sigh, sigh, sigh.

After a triple sigh, Ji Ping’an decided to establish herself as a weak and sickly beauty with her maid Dongchun’s help.

From then on, she gasped every three steps and coughed every five, turning herself into a certified, world-renowned delicate beauty. Using the excuse of accumulating virtue, she traveled the countryside, treating the sick and earning respect, all while secretly searching among her many patients for a reliable husband who could help her escape the Song family’s grasp.

After much consideration, Ji Ping’an set her sights on a quiet, stoic hunter.

Though he had no wealth or status, he had no entangled family either—no in-laws, no scheming household members, and certainly none of the treacherous, bone-chilling plots like those in the Song family.

Plus, he was good-looking—sharp brows, starry eyes, and a heroic bearing. As for his body? She’d felt it under the guise of a medical check—he was a beast.

The only issue? His temper was a little odd. Every time she and Dongchun ranted about the cruel and volatile tyrant in the book, predicting his downfall, the hunter would stare at her strangely and let out a mocking snort from deep in his throat.

No matter—he was a bit odd, but she could deal with that after marriage.

…..

He’s going to chop Ji Ping’an’s head off one day.

Every time Zhou Sheng returned to the palace after getting “treated” by Ji Ping’an, he flew into a rage. Civil and military officials trembled in fear, terrified they’d said or done something wrong and would face his wrath—or worse, a family-wide execution.

As the emperor, all under heaven was his to rule, life and death in his hands.

Yet somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to kill Ji Ping’an.

Why? Because only she could treat his embarrassing condition.

On the 932nd occasion, he considered killing her, but Ji Ping’an finally got tricked into entering the palace.

Fine. If he couldn’t kill this petty, vengeful, weak little woman, then he’d just keep her by his side and torment her slowly.

….

The world believed His Majesty doted on the empress.

She was weak and frail, quick-tempered, and His Majesty did everything in his power to avoid upsetting her, softening his own twisted temper, striving to be a virtuous ruler, all in hopes of earning heavenly favor for her recovery.

They were the very image of a loving, harmonious royal couple.

But Dongchun, who had followed Ji Ping’an since the beginning, knew the truth.

They fought—a small argument every three days, a big one every five. Ji Ping’an always stood her ground, using her “illness” to her full advantage, never backing down and driving the emperor mad.

“Ji Ping’an! I swear, it’s not your body that’s sick—it’s your brain! How did I end up marrying such a petty, unreasonable, infuriating woman?!”

BANG! Zhou Sheng slammed the door and stormed off.

Dongchun had gotten used to it. The emperor would return by nightfall—worried the empress would worsen her “chronic illness” from the quarrel, he never dared stay away long.

But—

Dongchun broke out in a cold sweat.

If one day His Majesty found out the empress was never actually sick…

Would either of their heads stay intact?

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