Chapter 4

The cold sweat on my back didn't start to dry until I was out of the Imperial Study.

That probe just now had not been ordinary elder-to-junior concern. The measure of it was vicious. No interrogation. No calling it out. Just quiet watching, pressure applied one step at a time—worse than being charged to your face.

I was done slacking off.

I had to finish the System tasks, fast, and find the husband who'd transmigrated with us. If I waited until the Emperor's suspicion fully locked in, my five-year-old son and I would go down in this palace sooner or later.

The whole time my son had been wearing Consort Su's body, we'd been riding on the consorts covering for us in secret.

At first the Emperor had been curious. He'd flipped her plaque several times in a row—the old custom of picking which consort attended him for the night. Every single time, some "accident" cut it off.

The first night-attend decree came down, and Consort Shu fainted on the spot. Every hand in the palace went to tend her. The matter was shelved.

The night before the second time, Consort Xian came down with a sudden stomachache and made sure the whole palace knew.

The third time was cleaner: a fire in the Cold Palace. They fought it all night. Nobody brought up summoning anyone after that.

Three accidents. Each one timed to the second.

Outsiders called it heaven's will. I knew better. It was those CP-shipping palace women, going all out to make our "CP" happen.

And because of layer after layer of their cover, I'd been able to keep a low profile—hide how off my son was, hunt for people in secret, and give the Emperor not one scrap of evidence.

But you can dodge for a while. You can't dodge forever.

The Emperor's suspicion was visible to the naked eye. Keep hiding like this, stay this passive, and we were going to crash.

Xiaoman and I split the work in private.

He stayed in the inner palace. Main target: the Empress Dowager.

The only person in the inner palace who could actually sit on the Emperor and keep people safe was the Empress Dowager.

And luckily, the Empress Dowager was the CP ship's number-one fan. Came with her own bias filter.

Xiaoman was little. He knew how to act cute. He knew his limits. He went to pay his respects on schedule every day, kept her company, and got her humming.

These days, if anyone in the palace dared chew gossip about Consort Su, I didn't have to lift a finger. The Empress Dowager shut it down first.

I took the outer court. My job was finding people.

I'd already sorted through how the three of us had dropped into the book.

I became the Crown Prince. My son became the Consort. So my husband was probably tied to the imperial house too.

Imperial relatives. Court ministers. Worst case, a maid or servant in some lord's household.

I drew an extremely detailed chart of everyone at court.

Then I went visiting ministers' residences under every excuse I could invent.

At each stop I looked like I was making small talk, touring courtyards, admiring calligraphy and paintings. The whole time I was watching.

Manner. Speech. Habits. The little tells they didn't mean to give. The catchphrases.

A modern person's living habits and way of thinking were cracks you couldn't plaster over, no matter how well you faked it.

If my husband was in that crowd, I would drag him out.

The longer I looked, though, the heavier the doubt in my chest got.