The Cold Emperor's Sweet Little Consort

On the day of the selection, he saw her alone among the thousands.

His heartbeat skipped, and the brows that had been frozen for years suddenly softened.

“Her. I choose her.”

That night, the imperial bridal carriage went straight to the new consorts' quarters. By the glow of red candles beneath the warm bed curtains, he sighed through gritted teeth:

“Be good, my darling. I can't wait until tomorrow.”

The harem was in an uproar. The empress tore up her sutras, and the Imperial Noble Consort smashed every porcelain piece in the hall.

But he held her on his lap every day while reviewing memorials, even hiding her inside his dragon robe at court so he could secretly rub her fingertips.

Until she clutched her belly, eyes brimming with tears. “Your Majesty... I think I've eaten enough to make your empire fat.”

The tyrant lowered his head and kissed the trembling sob at her throat.

“Good girl. Now this is what it means to bring ruin to the nation and its people.”