The Concubine's Daughter in a Substitute Marriage: Rouge Schemes

The day my elder half-sister was chosen as a prince's principal consort, I received a box of rouge laced with arsenic.

My mother wept and begged me to take her place: “You're plain-looking. Marrying into the imperial family is a blessing.”

I obediently agreed, but swallowed a fake-death pill inside the bridal sedan.

Three months later, the rouge shop I opened had become famous throughout the capital.

My half-sister smashed it to pieces. “You wretch! Did you know your prince husband is impotent?”

I rested a hand on my belly and smiled. “What a coincidence. I was just diagnosed with a pregnancy.”

She had no idea that the recipe for that arsenic rouge was already worth a fortune.