Long Live the Emperor, Minus Me (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 15
Whether thanks to the physician the Empress sent or simply because it was time to heal naturally, the poison’s effects lasted less than three days.
“Glad you recovered quickly.”
Perhaps that was why the Grand Duke only showed his face after I’d risen from my sickbed—having sent me a mountain of flowers earlier.
“Thank you for your concern.”
After exchanging those polite formalities, I remembered another courtesy I owed.
“I received the flowers you sent. Thank you very much.”
“Oh, that? That was just for show—don’t worry about it.”
If it was merely for show, I wished he’d chosen a simpler gesture. But it felt awkward to say that to a five-year-old, so I stayed silent.
“Don’t make that face. If my sister-in-law hadn’t intervened, I would’ve handled the aftermath myself.”
My facial muscles must have betrayed me—my hidden expression showed while my intended resentment didn’t.
I quickly adopted an innocent, natural look as if I’d never meant to hide anything.
“Was that also just for show?”
“Well, yes—if you call it that.”
The Grand Duke shrugged.
“I was going to send someone anyway, using the aftermath as an excuse.”
“Oh…”
Manpower. That was exactly what I needed—and what the Empress had provided.
But how did the Grand Duke know? He’d never even visited my palace.
“You knew?”
“Just from glancing at the staffing chart. The palace size versus personnel numbers was glaringly inadequate.”
When I widened my eyes in surprise, the Grand Duke casually waved his hand.
That gesture was utterly unchildlike—but then again, his entire conduct was far beyond what any five-year-old should exhibit.
Why would a five-year-old even look at staffing charts? He wasn’t the Empress responsible for managing the inner palace.
“By the way, my sister-in-law isn’t really suited for delicate household matters…”
For the first time, the Grand Duke stumbled over his words in front of me. What was he trying to say? I was utterly intrigued.
“…She’s not well-suited for such delicate affairs. My mother handles that. I just happened to see it when paying my respects.”
That statement was suspicious in every possible way. Would the Empress truly delegate her rightful authority over palace management simply because she “wasn’t suited” for delicate tasks?
And could one really “happen to see” staffing charts while paying routine respects?
The only believable part was that the Empress Dowager managed the inner palace.
“I see…”
The Grand Duke seemed to notice the disbelief in my voice. But since even he found his own story questionable, he didn’t press the issue.
“Anyway, that’s why I thought you needed more staff. But giving it outright would seem—well, childish, wouldn’t it?”
So he’d deliberately sent excessive gifts after deducing from the staffing chart that I’d need more attendants, then used my struggle with the aftermath as an excuse to provide manpower—that was his idea of “childlike” behavior?
To me, simply saying “I happened to notice you need more staff—I’ll arrange it” would have seemed far less calculating for a child.
“That’s why I needed a pretext. Anyway, I don’t create problems I can’t solve, so don’t worry unnecessarily.”
Was this innate talent? I gaped at his judgment, resourcefulness, and thoughtfulness—utterly unbelievable for a five-year-old.
Even His Majesty, who excelled in such matters, might not have been this capable at age five.
Seeing my stunned, unfeigned reaction, the Grand Duke smoothly shifted topics as if nothing had happened.
“So those flowers were just a means—the real gift is Jasper Palace, where you’ll move soon. I assigned five gardeners specifically, so I’m confident it’ll be quite impressive.”
…Did I ask to be buried in flowers or to die suffocated by them? Why so extreme?
I briefly considered saying I preferred quiet simplicity, but knew it was hopeless.
“Was that also by Her Majesty the Empress Dowager’s will?”
“I did borrow Mother’s influence.”
His straightforward admission prompted my next question.
“You two are close. Is that why you stay in the palace instead of your duchy?”
I admit—it was a clumsy probe. I wanted to verify my conclusion from earlier conversations with the Empress through the Grand Duke’s information.
But I made it blatantly obvious on purpose after his earlier remark gave me profound insight.
Being too politically savvy wouldn’t suit a child. Better to seem clever but slightly flawed.
The Grand Duke must have agreed—he didn’t give me a wary look but chuckled instead.
“No. At my rank, staying in the palace instead of taking my duchy isn’t because of Mother—it’s because of my elder brother.”
A playful glint flashed in his eyes as he asked directly,
“Didn’t my sister-in-law tell you?”
A probing question—just like mine—obviously testing whether the Empress had shared information with me. Simple enough to fool a “clever three-year-old.”
So I pretended not to recognize the probe and answered calmly.
“Yes, she said you’re like their child.”
“Exactly. I’m like their child. Parents and children shouldn’t live apart, should they?”
I understood his meaning—but while I could accept comparing his father to a parent, his mother was perfectly alive. Hearing him equate the imperial couple to parents felt strangely unsettling.
Perhaps… it was because I could understand that situation. I’d once been a child prodigy who grasped adult complexities.
But being a “child prodigy” desperate to impress “parent-like” figures was fifty years ago. I had no time now to dwell on memories half a century old.
So instead of empathizing, I focused on the information I’d gained.
The Grand Duke was truly the Emperor’s heir—only lacking formal Crown Prince title—evidenced by his residence in the palace instead of his duchy.
Yet instead of Crown Prince status, he held a Grand Duchy title, and the Empress couldn’t manage the inner palace—her rightful domain—because the Empress Dowager controlled it.
Wow. What a toxic arrangement. Nothing about this household was normal.
“Well? Are your curiosities satisfied?”
Though unwelcome, I had obtained necessary information. I bowed my head gratefully.
“Yes, thank you very much.”
“Really?”
But after my thanks, the Grand Duke suddenly questioned me like this.
I’d given insincere gratitude several times already—why this sudden doubt?
“Yes, really.”
Having gone this far, I couldn’t retract it. I simply nodded agreeably.
“Then in return, would you host a small tea party to present yourself?”
“Me personally?”
I was surprised for two reasons: first, that he asked me to “personally” host, and second, his phrasing.
If he wanted me to host, he could’ve simply ordered it. If he preferred a transaction, he could’ve bargained with Jasper Palace or the gardeners.
I’d thanked him so many times already that he could’ve demanded something more substantial.
Yet he’d honestly answered my unnecessary probe and now offered the tea party as fair exchange.
It was… neither childlike nor statesmanlike behavior. Considering he didn’t seem to particularly like me, this attitude was astonishing.
“Just killing two birds with one stone. My sister-in-law could introduce you alone, but this way we also showcase Jasper Palace—and declare you’ll reside there.”
Wow. They’re holding a party just to show where a non-imperial person like me lives?
Whoever planned this had glaringly selfish motives. The Grand Duke wouldn’t act so selfishly—was it the Empress or the Empress Dowager managing palace affairs?
“Yes, I understand.”
Fully aware of their transparent motives, I nodded agreeably. Refusal wouldn’t change much, and it’d be good practice for Tula to learn event management.
In my past life, I’d overseen banquets rather than hosted parties, but guest reception fundamentals remained the same.
“Good. We’ll select the guest list—just peers my age who haven’t entered society yet, so no need to worry.”
Children… To me, emotionally volatile children were more troublesome than reasonable adults. Not good news.
But since I’d accepted this only as Tula’s midterm evaluation—not to make friends—I simply nodded.
“Yes.”
Whether his visit’s true purpose was belated sickbed courtesy or tea party planning, the Grand Duke rose after a few more remarks about the event.
“Details will come after you move palaces. Consider this advance notice to prepare mentally.”
“Yes, thank you for your consideration.”
That consideration would soon be appreciated by Tula—who’d begin rigorous training in event management starting today.
Male lead is a Divorced Husband
She said to him: “Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change it!”
Liu Changning transmigrated into a female cannon fodder character in a female-dominant novel.
After reading the first half of the novel’s plot, the first thing she did upon transmigration was to divorce the Pan Jinlian-style male protagonist she had just married.
She indulged herself, pretending to be ugly and poor.
But as time passed, the way that man looked at her became more and more unusual…
Liu Changning was dumbfounded: Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change!
――
This lifetime, Pei Yuanshao was rejected by the same woman twice!
The first time, she drove him away. Forced by the situation, he endured the waves of anger in his heart, yielding and humbling himself.
That person lay slanted on a rocking chair, her sallow face emotionless: “If you don’t want a divorce, go cook!”
Pei Yuanshao’s face was dark and gloomy: “You!”
The second time, after the crisis in Jinling City was resolved, the new emperor sent someone to pick him up. He turned around, stammering: “I… I have to go. If you keep me…”
That person lay on the kang bed, her back to him, as if she had long anticipated this day, crisp and clear: “Goodbye!”
Pei Yuanshao was so angry his fingers trembled: “You… you!”
The mission of family and country made him restrain himself, averting his eyes and turning to leave this broken household.
Two years later, they met again. Seeing her ethereal face, his body shook like a sieve.
“She was originally a ‘she’!”
At the Qionglin Banquet, the top scholar of the imperial examination, a talented person with exceptional speech and conduct, all the unmarried young gentlemen from aristocratic families looked at her with shy and timid eyes.
The peerless imperial official Pei Yuanshao felt the anger in his heart erupt. He pointed at the woman surrounded by the crowd at the Qionglin Banquet, his thin lips slightly curled: “Little sister, I wants that person to be the wife-master of my Mingde Prince Manor.”
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