The Tang Dynasty’s Number One Beauty: My Princess Consort Is a Lovely Woman

An arranged marriage turned the whole city into a laughingstock.

The Shen family was wiped out in the Northern Frontier. Their only “surviving” young general, battered and sick, became the husband of the Tang Dynasty’s most cherished, yet most frail, Princess Changle.

Everyone said a dying man had married a cripple.

Only Shen Wanqing knew that beneath the bright red wedding robes was a woman’s body, and the terrible blood feud of the loyal Shen family. Binding her chest with white cloth, she walked on a knife’s edge, intending to lie low in the princess’s residence until she could reopen the case and clear her family’s name.

But on their wedding night, the frail princess, rumored to be toppled by the slightest breeze, used her coldest fingertips to press precisely against her most vulnerable spot.

“Shen Wanqing, did your shoulders hurt last night, with the bindings cutting them so red?”

The princess leaned close to her ear, her breath fragrant as an orchid, but her eyes burned with a wild fire capable of overturning the prosperous age.

“Be the sharpest blade in my hand. You kill for me, and I’ll clear your family’s name.”

One was a battle-scarred female general burdened with a blood feud. The other was a sickly, mad princess with a mind full of sinister schemes.

Through the long night, in this Chang’an that devoured its people, they became each other’s weakness and each other’s fangs.

Later, when the palace walls crumbled, the entire court saw only the “living Yama,” the powerful Prince Consort Shen, killing in a red haze.

No one knew how, in the warmth of the inner palace, the exalted Princess Changle drew the sharpest blade in the Tang Dynasty into her arms and kissed the bloodstains from her brow, little by little.

“I want this empire, and I want you too.”