The Regent Forced Me to Become Emperor and Marry Her [GL Yuri] - Chapter 1

Xie Yu

“Whoosh!”

The piercing shriek of the signal flare nearly ruptured her eardrums, erupting into a massive green spark across the Capital City sky.

Xie Yu crouched on a sturdy branch of a towering tree beside the palace wall, gazing upward.

The Rebel Army had launched another assault on the city.

Below, the palace maids holding lanterns and calling for the Third Princess froze, their heads tilting skyward.

An eerie silence descended.

A young maid’s voice trembled. “The Fiends… are the Fiend Army about to breach the palace walls?”

“Silence!” the head maid snapped. “Why are you panicking? His Majesty has already mobilized twenty thousand Imperial Guards to personally suppress the rebellion. No matter what fiendish leader dares to come, she will find no return.”

“Our priority now is to find the Third Princess quickly, so His Majesty can lead his troops with peace of mind.”

Xie Yu held her breath, curling into a tight ball on the branch, afraid to move.

Because she was the missing Third Princess.

Just an hour ago, she had been a cheerful freshman at the police academy in the 21st century, preparing for her physical fitness test the next day. Now, she had been transported to this ancient dynasty called Da Yong, becoming the Third Princess with the same name and surname.

Worse still, the moment she arrived, she learned from the maids that the Rebel Army had already reached the city gates. She was about to become the princess of a fallen kingdom.

It was said that the leader of the Rebel Army was a strategist of unparalleled cunning, almost divine in her foresight, and her methods were ruthlessly unpredictable. Known as the Fiend, those who fell into her hands could only beg for death, finding no escape.

Upon hearing this, Xie Yu slipped into the Imperial Kitchens without hesitation, stole a kitchen knife and some dried provisions, bundled them in a bedsheet, and prepared to flee.

Rummaging through the remnants of her past life’s memories, she discovered that the original owner of this body had lived in the Cold Palace as a child. Near her quarters was a weed-choked cave entrance leading to a dry riverbed, abandoned for over a decade, which connected to the outside world.

But before she could escape the Imperial Palace, palace servants discovered her disappearance. After reporting to the Emperor, the entire palace was mobilized to search for her.

How could an unfavored princess trigger such a massive response?

The situation was deeply suspicious, but Xie Yu knew she absolutely refused to be found and dragged back.

If the Rebel Army won, she, as a member of the imperial family, would be purged.

If the Emperor prevailed, she would be trapped for life within the palace’s gilded cage, bound by its suffocating rituals and endless formalities.

She would rather leave the palace and become an anonymous, nameless wanderer, free and unfettered.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she forced herself to take several deep breaths.

The crossroads of destiny lay before her. One wrong choice could lead to eternal damnation.

The palace maids, still calling out “Third Princess,” moved further away. Like a cat, she silently leaped down from the tree, held her breath, and plunged into the riverbed through the cave entrance.

The dim interior of the riverbed stirred up a cloud of dust.

“Cough, cough!”

She covered her mouth, coughing several times as she crept forward.

After moving some distance, her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she broke into a run.

Forty minutes later, she stood with her hands on her hips, panting heavily as she stared at the cave entrance. It was about two and a half meters high, with no handholds on the smooth walls.
Noisy footsteps echoed from outside the cave, along with screams, children’s wails, the clatter of marching hooves, and the crackling of flames.

Her heart tightened. The Rebel Army must have already entered the city.

The battle was likely nearing its end. She had to seize this moment of chaos to escape.

She retreated a few steps, sprinted forward, and leaped, her hands reaching up to grip the muddy soil above the entrance. Her fingernails dug into the earth as she pulled herself up in a makeshift chin-up.

After dusting off her clothes, she ran into the main street, waited for the right moment, and blended into the fleeing crowd.

The Rebel Army had been like phantoms, silently lurking outside the city walls until tonight.

Today was the Lantern Festival, a day when families traditionally went out to enjoy the festivities, solve lantern riddles, and eat snacks. Just an hour ago, no one had even heard of the Fiend Army. The sudden news of the city’s siege sent everyone into a panic, abandoning all caution.

Xie Yu hopped over an overturned sugar figurine stall, thinking how fragrant the melted sugar smelled. I’ll get one after we’re out of the city, she thought. And those roasted chestnuts smell good too. I’ll buy a couple of pounds and peel them slowly later.

She patted her stomach and tightened the bundle slung over her shoulder when she suddenly heard a faint cry ahead.

“Mama!”

She stopped instinctively and saw a little girl, about four or five years old, standing in the middle of the road, looking around. The girl was holding a sugar figurine shaped like the Chang’e Fairy, her sparse hair a yellowish hue.

Thump!

As expected, the little girl was quickly bumped by a fleeing person and fell hard on her bottom, bursting into tears.

Xie Yu’s brow furrowed involuntarily. Did this child get separated from her parents while fleeing?

“S-sister…”

Amidst the surging crowd, only Xie Yu had stopped. The little girl looked up at her, gasping between sobs. “My name is Cao Zhenzhu. Have you… have you seen my mama?”

Xie Yu shook her head. The child, her eyes still hopeful, held out the sugar figurine. “T-then… could you help me find my mama? I’ll give you the sugar figurine.”

Her eyes were round and black, like grapes, clearly unwilling to part with the candied figure. Her little hand gripped the bamboo stick tightly.

Xie Yu glanced at the small, fleshy hand, then at the towering city gate in the distance. After a moment of silence, she lifted the child and set her down in a relatively safe spot by the roadside. “Wait here for your mother to come find you.”

This was an internal conflict, and Xie Yu needed to get out of the city.

She ran.

After turning several corners into a residential area, she spotted a suspicious, thin-framed figure with a knife strapped to his back scaling the wall of a house.

Fortunately, someone was home. A loud shout rang out: “Who’s there?!”

A fight erupted immediately, the clanging of pots and pans echoing through the neighborhood.

As Xie Yu listened, her breath caught in her throat.

She’d forgotten!

During her police academy training, the instructor had warned them that during times of chaos, petty thieves, robbers, and human traffickers would become more active, preying on the confusion.

She clicked her tongue in frustration, turned around, and sprinted back to the child. Without hesitation, she snatched the candied figure from her hand.

“No! Don’t! Take! My! Candy!” Cao Zhenzhu’s voice was hoarse from crying. She bared her teeth like a cornered puppy, then looked up. “…Sister?”

Xie Yu crunched down brutally, shattering the Chang’e Fairy’s entire head in one bite. “We had a deal. The candy is mine.”

With her other hand, she yanked Zhenzhu to her feet. “Come with me, okay? And try not to throw up on me.”

“Sister? Did you find my mama? What do you mean, ‘don’t throw up’?”

Before Zhenzhu could finish, Xie Yu had already devoured the Chang’e Fairy. She tossed the stick aside, clapped her hands, hoisted the child onto her shoulder, and bolted.

The child bounced wildly on her back, her voice breaking apart in the wind. “Sis… ah… Sister… ah, ah, ahhhh…”

Xie Yu returned to the riverbank, untied her bundle, and reassembled the bedsheet into a rope. She lowered Zhenzhu down.

She then sent down the pastries and water pouch from her bundle, instructing, “Eat when you’re hungry, drink when you’re thirsty. Don’t make a sound before dawn. If I haven’t returned by then, call for help.”

“If you disobey, your mother will abandon you. Understand?”

Tears still glistened on Zhenzhu’s face as she nodded vigorously. “But where are you going, Sister?”

Xie Yu rearranged the weeds at the cave entrance to conceal their tracks. Standing up, she replied, “I’m going to steal candy figurines from other children.”

There were more lost children on the streets than she had imagined. In less than forty-five minutes, she had gathered four or five more, all separated from their families. When she found them, they were either standing dazed, waiting for their parents, or wandering aimlessly like headless flies.

Time was short, and she didn’t have time to determine their exact ages. She simply pulled over any child who looked small and underage. Some were as young as Zhenzhu, only four or five years old, while others were twelve or thirteen, thin as monkeys.

The children huddled together, chattering and calling out “Sister!” so loudly that Xie Yu’s head ached.

“Sister! Sister!” the tallest and fattest child shouted, bouncing up and down. “My little sister is lost too! Sister! I don’t have a candy figure, but she does—it’s a dragon!”

“Wow—” All the children briefly stopped their clamoring.

“Alright, alright,” Xie Yu waved her hand dismissively, then turned to the twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy she had forcibly dragged over. “I’m going to find her sister. You’re the oldest here—take care of the little ones.”
The wiry, monkey-like boy, clearly in his rebellious phase, scowled defiantly. “I’m not a little kid anymore! How old are you anyway? What gives you the right to boss me around?”

“I’m seventeen years and eight months old, and I’m a probationary yamen officer. That’s why I have the right to tell you what to do.”

As a police academy student and university student, Xie Yu felt fully qualified to manage these brats. After snapping back at him, she set off to find the fat child’s sister.

Tonight was utter chaos. As she searched, she avoided several Rebel Army squads with red cloth armbands and Imperial Guard units with black cloth armbands. Before she knew it, she had arrived at the Capital City’s largest commercial street, where a dazzling light flooded the area.

The wide road was paved with neat rows of cyan stone slabs. Along the street, dark reddish-brown wooden buildings stood in rows, their beige lanterns swaying in the late spring chill.

But it’s just a lantern. How could it be so bright?

She turned her head, and the burning Capital City spread before her eyes.

Taoist temples, taverns, Buddhist monasteries—all were engulfed in flames. Orange-red firelight soared into the sky, illuminating half of the cold, azure expanse.

The fleeing crowds surged like a massive brown flood, yet amidst this chaos stood an unmoving, slender figure in moon-white robes.

The person gazed at the distant, burning Taoist temple, standing as still as a reed. Only the hem of their white skirt and strands of hair fluttered in the chilly spring wind, stretching and swaying.

Too thin. They look ill.

Her profile came into view: pale lips, long, dark lashes. Though her features were naturally exquisite, her sickly pallor lent her an ethereal, almost otherworldly air.

Truly beautiful, Xie Yu admitted.

And not just beautiful—the subtle patterns on her robes were meticulously crafted, conveying the image of a noble lady from a prestigious family with a deep karmic connection to Buddhism. She seemed like the kind of unattainable beauty who, upon returning to the Capital City, would be showered with gifts, become the target of conquest as the “Buddha’s Chosen One” of the Capital’s elite circles, and ultimately lead to a “wife-chasing hell” scenario.
Xie Yu watched for a moment before turning to leave. But then, at the other end of the street, half a horse’s head and a bloodstained, unadorned saber suddenly appeared, a strip of red cloth wrapped around the blade.

“Rebels!”

She instinctively turned to look at the ‘immortal maiden,’ only to find her utterly composed, as if untouched by worldly concerns.

Why isn’t she running?! Doesn’t she recognize the Rebel Army?!

To save her or not to save her—that is the question.

Xie Yu hesitated for a few seconds, thinking how ancient adults and children were all so exasperating. Then she reasoned, Well, I’ve already saved so many others. What’s one more adult?

Gritting her teeth, she rushed forward and grabbed the woman’s wrist.

The icy chill beneath her palm startled her, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She lowered her voice and hissed, “Follow me. I’ll help you escape.”

With the Rebel Army closing in, Xie Yu moved swiftly, barging through the crowd. She glanced back frequently, worried the ‘frail immortal maiden’ wouldn’t keep up.

Her greatest fear was that the woman would resist and waste precious time. To her surprise, the woman remained docile and calm, showing no panic.

Though her expression was unreadable, she stumbled along behind Xie Yu, allowing herself to be pulled along.

She’s actually being quite obedient?

Xie Yu sprinted into a narrow, pitch-black alley between two taverns, barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through sideways. She shoved the woman inside, then slipped in herself, positioning herself to block the entrance.

Soon, the clatter of hooves drew near. Xie Yu held her breath as she watched a column of Rebel Army soldiers ride past, clad in gleaming armor and wielding polished sabers.

Just as she was about to relax, the Rebel Army leader suddenly turned, his hawk-like gaze locking onto hers.

A cold sweat broke out across her back.
After a few tense breaths, the leader withdrew his oppressive stare.

Xie Yu exhaled in relief.

The alley is so dark, she reasoned. Even if they noticed us, they’d probably just assume we’re ordinary civilians hiding.

Turning back, she explained, “This is a civil war. The Rebel Army will want to take over the government eventually, so they won’t deliberately target ordinary people. But noble families are extremely valuable to them—they’ll definitely try to capture us.”

“And you have a face that looks incredibly expensive. You’d be easily recognized.”

When she looked back, she found the “fairy” staring down, not listening to her words.

Following her gaze, Xie Yu realized she was looking at their hands. Xie Yu was still holding her wrist.

The wrist was so pale it made Xie Yu’s already fair skin appear almost tan in comparison.

Her extreme thinness made Xie Yu’s hand appear particularly well-proportioned, with a balanced distribution of flesh and bone.

The two hands pressed tightly together, their contrast stark.

Xie Yu abruptly withdrew her hand, hiding it behind her back. She smiled and said, “I’m Xie Yu. What’s your name?”

The other woman slowly shifted her gaze, lifting her eyes to circle Xie Yu’s face before finally replying, “…My name is Shen Changyin.”

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