My character setting was an empress destined to die on the dragon throne.
From working herself to death.
It would happen in the third year after I transmigrated into the book.
And at the very moment I transmigrated, the ministers beneath me were still chattering on about how I wasn't doing my utmost:
"With the floods in Jiangnan, I heard that yesterday afternoon, Your Majesty spent half a teacup's time strolling in the Imperial Garden."
"Your Majesty ought to follow the example of the previous emperors: rise at the hour of the Snake and retire at the hour of the Pig, devote yourself to state affairs for six days, and only then take a day of rest with the young lords of the harem."
My scalp prickled, and the veins in my forehead throbbed.
I couldn't hold back the resentment of an overworked office drone any longer.
"Tell me, if you can't even take care of these little matters for me, what use are you to me?"
