The Eldest Princess' Substitute Husband (Transmigration) - Chapter 1

“How did a nap turn into transmigration?”

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Early spring. Noon.

Outside, the breeze was soft, the sun warm, the air full of vitality. The main street of the capital bustled with noise and energy.

At a little noodle stall, two brothers were busy—one carrying bowls of steaming noodles, the other shouting for customers. Nearby, an old woman in coarse cloth sold baskets woven from grass, while peddlers of every kind hawked their wares in loud voices. Everywhere, life pulsed with energy.

Yet inside the Consort’s Residence, silence reigned. Only now and then did a servant hurry past, breaking the stillness.

On the bed lay a figure, face pale, eyes open but lifeless, staring blankly at nothing. To call her corpse-like would not be an exaggeration.

Song Jinsheng had been lying frozen in that stiff position for the time it takes half a stick of incense to burn.

From the moment she opened her eyes, she knew something was wrong.

Gone was her shabby rented apartment. Instead, she was staring at a refined, elegant room. The architecture, the furnishings—every detail breathed an ancient air, with no trace of modernity.

For a moment she thought she was dreaming, maybe that she had wandered onto the set of some historical drama in Hengdian.

Because really, who in their right mind would believe that just by going to sleep, they’d wake up in another era?

And yet, the impossible had happened to her.

The high pillow beneath her neck was rock-hard, making her uncomfortable. The moment she sat up, her body ached all over, as though she’d been beaten three hundred times.

But she couldn’t afford to care about soreness. She swung her bare feet to the ground, frowning as she scanned her strange surroundings.

The tables, the porcelain, the scroll paintings, the ornaments—every piece was exquisitely crafted.

But instead of admiration, she only felt her chest tighten with unease. A chill of fear crept into her bones.

Then her eyes fell on a bronze mirror. She rushed over, lifted it up, and stared.

A pale, fine-boned face stared back. Straight brows, clear eyes, a sharp nose, lips tinged with color—delicate, almost boyishly handsome. Except, the expression was pure dumbstruck confusion, which made the reflection look a little ridiculous.

She touched her face from forehead to chin, relieved to find her appearance unchanged. But then—her hand froze at her throat.

…What was that?

A lump?

Heart racing, she squeezed at the apparent “Adam’s apple”… only to realize it was fake, something stuck on.

Her breath escaped in relief.

Still, to be sure, she patted down her whole body. Only after confirming everything was intact did she let out a long sigh.

Fine. So she had transmigrated. At least she hadn’t turned into a man.

Song Jinsheng had been an ordinary young woman of the 21st century. She’d been out in the workforce for a year, scraping by. Books were her only real hobby.

Stories about transmigration, soul-swapping, rebirth? She’d read plenty.

But wasn’t there supposed to be some trigger? Some ritual?

How could just one nap fling her into another world?

Apparently, when your luck runs bad enough, anything can happen.

The room was still quiet, save for the sound of her pacing. At first she’d been paralyzed by fear, but as time ticked by, numb acceptance set in.

She glanced back at the bed.

What if… she just went back to sleep? Would she wake up at home again?

Just as that desperate thought crossed her mind, a mechanical voice rang out in her head:

System: “Hello, Host. I am System Unit 250, in charge of your transmigration. Welcome.”

Song Jinsheng: “…”

…Two-five-zero? More like… idiot.

The corner of her mouth twitched involuntarily. The voice continued:

System: “Host, I will now brief you on your current identity. Please pay attention.”

…

By the time a cup of tea’s worth of time had passed, Song Jinsheng had pieced together the basics.

This was the Southern Chi Kingdom, an unknown dynasty outside any history book. And she—she wasn’t just the imperial son-in-law, married to the most beloved princess—she was also the orphan of a fallen dynasty.

In other words: to the world, she was a decorated scholar, a brilliant zhuangyuan, and the consort of a princess. In secret, she was a brooding remnant of the previous royal family, consumed by thoughts of revenge.

System: “Briefing complete. Do you have any questions?”

Song Jinsheng seized on the most urgent point. “Hold on. Why am I the consort?”

Wasn’t a consort supposed to be… married to the princess?

She was a woman! How did she end up with a wife?

System: “That information cannot be disclosed. However, I can tell you this: the consort is rumored to suffer from an ailment. As such, the marital relationship is seldom consummated.”

“…” Song Jinsheng was speechless.

“And how exactly do I go back?”

Before the system could reply, the tightly shut wooden door slammed open. Song Jinsheng jumped.

“M–Master?”

A boy poked his head inside. Fourteen, maybe fifteen, with a fresh, youthful face, staring in wide-eyed surprise.

Seeing her in thin underclothes, barefoot on the ground, he rushed in, panic written all over him.

“Master! You’re awake! When did you wake? Why didn’t you call for someone? You’ve only just recovered from a grave injury—quickly, back to bed!”

Faced with his flurry of concern, Song Jinsheng could only stare blankly, tongue-tied. Finally, she let him steer her back toward the bed.

System: “Reminder: Important character—Guzi. Your personal attendant.”

With the prompt, she calmed slightly. Seeing the worry in Guzi’s eyes, she coughed lightly and said awkwardly, “I… I just woke up.”

“Does anywhere still hurt, Master?”

Song Jinsheng waved a hand, feigning heaviness. “Guzi, truth is… after this illness, I can’t seem to remember much of the past. Could you… tell me what I’ve forgotten?”

Guzi’s eyes widened. He looked her up and down, utterly dumbfounded.

But then he suddenly recalled what the maids outside had said earlier—that they’d heard the Prince Consort mumbling to himself inside the room. At the time, Guzi hadn’t believed it, but now hearing these words with his own ears… could it be true? Had his master really fallen and knocked his brain silly?

Guzi stayed silent for a long while. Just as Song Jinsheng began to worry she might have given herself away, Guzi lowered his head with a sigh.

“Master, you must’ve been injured when you fell from the cliff. No wonder you didn’t wake for so many days…”

“Fell from the cliff?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to you.”

Guzi carefully recounted the story.

Two years ago, when the Prince Consort first found him, Guzi had been sold off by his own father to be castrated. He’d escaped by a stroke of luck, wandering the streets half-dead, when the Prince Consort took him in out of pity. From that day on, Guzi became his personal servant.

Not long after, the Prince Consort sat the imperial exams, placed first, and rose to fame. Many young ladies admired him, and even the court’s only princess—Wei Luoyi—petitioned the emperor to marry him. Thus, the two were wed. A year had passed since then.

But just recently, while hunting in the mountains, the Prince Consort had fallen off a cliff and struck his head. By the time he was found, he was barely breathing. The princess herself had gone to beg a renowned physician to treat him. Though his life had been saved, his condition worsened by the day, and he’d lain unconscious ever since.

Guzi added tearfully, “Counting today, it has been ten full days… The physician said if you didn’t wake soon, the outcome would be grim. But now—thank Heaven—you’ve finally opened your eyes. Master, you’ve survived a great calamity; surely blessings await you ahead! I’ll go report to Her Highness at once—”

“Wait, wait!” Song Jinsheng quickly sat up and stopped him, probing, “So, by what you’re saying… the princess cares deeply for me? Our… marriage is good?”

Guzi froze for a moment, then leaned closer and whispered, “Master… before others, you and Her Highness are indeed the picture of harmony.”

Song Jinsheng frowned. “Before others?”

Seeing her genuine confusion, Guzi could only answer honestly. “I don’t know the full truth, but… in private, you and the princess have grown distant. Aside from the early days after the wedding, Her Highness almost never summoned you. Your interactions are… few.”

“Oh…” Song Jinsheng mused, thoughtful.

That made sense.

She was a woman disguised as a man, married into the royal family for revenge. If exposed, it would be high treason, punishable by execution. It would be far stranger if the princess were truly affectionate with her.

So the façade was that of a husband with “an ailment,” unable to consummate the marriage. The princess must not have discovered her true identity yet—otherwise, why hadn’t she exposed her to the emperor?

Song Jinsheng pieced it together in her heart. After a few more questions, she dismissed Guzi.

Er… 250? 250?

She tried calling silently for the system.

The system sighed. “I’m here. Though perhaps you could use a different name…”

Song Jinsheng: …Waiter, how do I go back home?

System: “…”

System: “You must complete a task before returning to your world.”

Song Jinsheng: What task?

System: “Your main quest has been generated. You may choose one of two paths: first, divorce the princess; second, avenge the original host.”

Song Jinsheng didn’t hesitate. She picked the first option immediately.

Divorce was surely easier than revenge—at least it didn’t involve bloodshed. With her complete lack of martial skill, the thought of revenge was laughable. More likely, she’d get herself killed.

Besides, from Guzi’s account, her relationship with the princess was lukewarm at best. Chances were, the princess also had no affection for her. If she brought up divorce, Her Highness might readily agree.

Lying back on the bed, Song Jinsheng began to map out her “divorce strategy.” She even thought about how, once she returned home, she’d write this bizarre experience into a novel and post it on Mo Jiang. Who knows—maybe people would actually read it…

Just as she was lost in thought, noise rose outside. Startled, she quickly pulled the quilt over herself, half-closed her eyes, parted her lips slightly, and pretended to still be on the brink of death.

Through her lashes, she saw the door creak open. Two maids entered first, standing respectfully to either side. Then, a slender figure in flowing silk stepped in. Tall and graceful, she moved with the lightness of a celestial being.

Song Jinsheng’s gaze was drawn in an instant. Her breath caught.

The woman’s skin was as pale as snow, her brows long and fine, her eyes bright and sharp, her features so delicate they seemed carved by the gods. Her lips were full, crimson, and striking, yet her cold expression stripped her beauty of warmth, leaving instead a distant, untouchable majesty.

What a face…

Song Jinsheng was stunned, inwardly sighing at the sight.

At that moment, the system’s voice chimed again:

“Reminder: Important character detected—Wei Luoyi, the princess of this dynasty, your wife.”

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