The Eighteen-Year-Old Dowager Empress Returns to Restore the Empire

I was the founding empress. Fifty years ago, I died in an assassination attempt while saving my young crown prince.

When I opened my eyes again, I had become the second daughter of a concubine in the prime minister's household fifty years later. I was about to enter the palace, where my grandson would choose his consorts.

I looked at my “benevolent” son on the throne, his hair now white as snow and his ministers deceiving him, and couldn't stop my tears. But when I turned to look at those useless grandsons of mine, I could barely contain my anger.

The crown prince was steady, but far too steady. The second prince was bent on rebellion, while the third was a hopeless romantic, spending all his time mooning over romance and poetry.

Pointing to us young ladies, the emperor said to the crown prince, “Choose whichever one you like.”

“Sheng'er, is this how your mother taught you to behave?”

“Outrageous! Who dares speak so boldly?” the eunuch beside him shouted.

But the emperor on the throne slowly rose to his feet, his eyes glistening with tears, filled with disbelief and barely restrained excitement.