The Plump Consort Is a Beauty, and the Emperor Dotes on Me Alone

My cousin came to live at the Earl's manor when she was five, and she was the sister I was closest to.

She encouraged me to be comfortable in my own skin: three huge pork knuckles at every meal, along with candied fruit, milk custard, and steamed buns.

Meanwhile, she ate only boiled vegetables, bound her feet, practiced dancing, and cinched her waist.

On the fifteenth birthday when we came of age, we held our coming-of-age ceremony together.

I became a famous chubby girl, while she dazzled the capital with a single dance.

My fiancé, the heir, looked down on me and broke off our engagement, then turned around and asked for her hand.

I didn't cry, make a scene, or fight back. I quietly packed my things.

A year later, as the heir's wife, she finally got the chance to attend a palace banquet. But when she looked up...

Well, there I was beside the emperor, happily gnawing on a huge pork knuckle.

Her mother-in-law, a noblewoman, smacked her on the forehead.

“What are you staring at? That's the Noble Consort! Get on your knees!”