I transmigrated into an ancient political intrigue novel as the wicked supporting heroine destined to die.
To avoid the fate of my entire family being slaughtered, I decided to secretly poison the ruthless Regent with a slow-acting toxin, hoping to curb his power and viciousness so I could live in peace.
Who knew I'd mixed up the medicine!
I diligently fed it to him for months. Instead of poisoning him to death, I turned the cold, aloof Regent into a soft, cuddly three-hundred-pound man.
He couldn't give up the medicinal meals and snacks I made by hand. From then on, he abandoned schemes for power, lost all interest in conflict, and spent his days eating and doing nothing.
Even more absurdly, the Regent set the tone for the entire nation. When he got fat, the whole court followed suit.
The prevailing attitudes changed overnight: fat meant well-behaved and unambitious; thin meant sharp and harboring dangerous intentions.
The entire court set out to gain weight. Political infighting vanished, and factional disputes faded away.
The trend swept across the nation from top to bottom. The people ate heartily and embraced good health, bandits opened shops, and the northern tribes grew too fat to mount their horses. A century of warfare ended without a fight.
By accidentally adding a bowl of fattening medicinal food to his diet, I somehow nurtured a peaceful golden age where everyone was relaxed and pleasantly plump.
But beneath the merry, chubby revelry in the streets, the granaries were dwindling, illness was spreading, and people still lurked in the shadows, staying thin and biding their time, their ambitions concealed.
This absurd, gentle golden age had always been nothing more than a brief dream.
Theme: Political schemes in a chaotic age can't compare to the simple pleasures of everyday life, but even a relaxed and peaceful era conceals undercurrents of danger.
