Ananya never expected death to bring her into another life.
One moment, she was running her parents’ restaurant in the modern world.
The next, she opened her eyes in silk robes, surrounded by hostile stares — the Queen Consort of the empire.

But this body was cursed in everyone’s eyes.
The Emperor loathed her.
The mistress laughed at her.
And the court whispered behind her back.

Only she wasn’t truly alone.

> “Finally, someone can see us!”
“What kind of Queen Consort are you, so calm even with ghosts in your chamber?”
“Shut up, Wei Rong, let her breathe. She looks like she’s about to faint.”



Three ghosts — a stoic scholar, a brash general, and a mischievous noble girl — lingered at her side. They were invisible to all but her. And with them, she learned to survive the poisonous palace.

When rumors spread that she was cursed, Ananya stood before the empire’s court.
Instead of tears, she offered proof. Instead of fear, she offered dignity.

> “If Heaven believes I am cursed, let the fire and smoke betray me. I will not hide.”



And Heaven sided with her.

Outside the palace, crises struck — starving soldiers, missing supplies, merchants growing fat from stolen grain. Inside, Lady Zhen, the Emperor’s favored mistress, grew bolder by the day, flaunting her beauty and mocking Ananya’s quiet grace.

> “Sister, do you still dream of winning His Majesty’s heart? Look at you — plain, dull, unworthy.”
“If simplicity is a crime, then let it be mine,” Ananya answered, unshaken.



The Emperor indulged Lady Zhen openly… but in the silence of night, he tasted Ananya’s food, lingered at her table, and found himself unsettled by her calm.

> “This is not palace fare,” he muttered.
“It is lighter,” Ananya replied softly. “Easier to sleep after.”



Step by step, conspiracy thickened. At a grand banquet, a poisoned cup was placed in Ananya’s hand. But a ghost’s laugh echoed in her ear — and the cup was swapped. A dancer collapsed instead.

From that night on, the Emperor’s gaze changed. He began to notice the woman who never begged for favor, never fought for attention, yet always endured.

Still, war brewed at the borders. Betrayals reached even the throne. Assassins crept through the palace halls. And the one person who seemed weakest became the calm at the center of the storm.

Through whispered secrets, mischievous hauntings, and quiet resilience, Ananya carved her place in the empire.
She would not simply survive.
She would rise.

And the Emperor who once despised her would one day whisper only her name.

Night settled over the palace like a thin veil of ink, quiet on the surface, restless underneath.


The Emperor stood alone in his study, fingers tapping slowly against the edge of the table. Reports lay scattered before him—kitchen logs, guard rotations, healer records, testimonies written in neat, obedient handwriting. Every line told the same story. Too neat. Too clean.


He had ruled long enough to know that when every voice repeated the same truth, it was rarely the real one.


His thoughts returned, unbidden, to Shin Gu.


The Emperor closed the file and stood. There was only one person he could ask directly—someone who slept beside the center of the storm.


Chapter 173 - silk curtain