ITVCFITB CHAPTER 1

 Chapter 1 – The Imperial Betrothal

The twentieth year of Yuan Sheng, the fifteenth day of the first lunar month: the Lantern Festival.

The main street of Yunsheng was ablaze with festivity. Families came out together to celebrate, rare moments of reunion marked with laughter and cheer.

The bustling street brimmed with lantern riddles, street performers, vendors of sugar figurines and sweet dumplings. From the taverns came the clamor of drinking games and merriment. Everything was simple, joyous, brimming with life. Smiling faces were everywhere.

But none of this touched the eastern city gate, where the air reeked of blood and despair.

There, a humble covered carriage lay shattered into splinters, unrecognizable from its original form. The horse that pulled it lay on the ground, twitching in agony, a poisoned arrow embedded in its side.

Not far off, fifty men in black loosed volley after volley of arrows at a prisoner in chains. His back bristled with shafts, his mouth bled freely, yet his gaze remained fierce. With his final strength, he clutched tightly the pale man in white robes within his arms. In the white-robed man’s embrace lay a baby, already cold, rigid, lifeless.

The prisoner spat a mouthful of blackened blood. “Forgive me, Luo Shuyu… In your next life, stay far away from me. Don’t let me drag you down again.”

The white-robed man’s lips were blue from the winter cold, but he felt nothing now. He pressed against the other’s chest, his voice raw with desperation:

“You’ve never wronged me.” He covered the prisoner’s mouth with his hand, trying to stop the blood, though his eyes brimmed with despair. “We can still make it out.”

The prisoner’s eyelids grew heavy, death pressing closer. “So much… I want to say… but no time left…”

Another arrow struck, piercing his heart. He choked on his last breath. “Luo Shuyu… next life… stay far, far away…”

The man in white clung to him, screaming his name as tears poured unchecked. “Li Mingjin! Don’t you dare die! Don’t you die! What will I do without you?!”

Li Mingjin raised a bloodied hand to cup his face. “...Don’t… cry… not… allowed…”

But before he could wipe away those tears, his body went limp. Drenched in blood, he collapsed into Luo Shuyu’s arms.

“I won’t cry,” Luo Shuyu whispered. “I won’t cry.”

---

From the moment Luo Shuyu received the imperial edict, he knew his fate was bound to Li Mingjin’s. He never understood why the Third Prince had chosen him. Was it that his family had sacrificed him in exchange for his father and brothers’ future? Or was it simply that their birth charts aligned? Whatever the reason, none of it made him laugh.

Everyone in the capital knew of the Third Prince’s temperament: dark, violent, merciless. Countless eunuchs and maids had died by his hand. He was infamous for carrying a whip, lashing out whenever displeased, never resting until flesh split and bled. Who would call such a man a worthy match?

As the Luo family’s legitimate son, Luo Shuyu’s marriage into the prince’s household was the capital’s joke. Everyone expected him to be beaten black and blue on the second day. Yet three years passed, and Luo Shuyu remained untouched. Li Mingjin, unruly though he was, had never laid a finger on him.

Later, their relationship deepened. Unexpectedly, Luo Shuyu conceived and bore him a son. However, only a month after the child’s birth, Li Mingjin was accused of treason and cast into prison. Even his father, the emperor, would not save him. The entire family perished.

Had Luo Shuyu’s soul dissolved after death, he might have gone quietly to reincarnation, a wisp of grievance forgotten by time.

But instead, as a wandering soul, he entered a blinding white room and found a book. Its title: After Transmigrating, Four Big Bosses All Vied to Marry Me.

Luo Shuyu found the name strange. With nothing else to do, he turned to the first page.

The book stretched over eight hundred thousand words. The more he read, the angrier he grew. By the end, his soul was near transparent with fury. The tragedies he had lived through were, in the eyes of the protagonist, nothing at all. He and Li Mingjin hadn’t even survived to the halfway point of the novel’s timeline.

He thought of his infant son, frozen to death in the bitter winter. Of Li Mingjin, covered in blood, dying in his arms. His soul felt as if it were being torn apart by a thousand threads. He howled, soundless and mad, but no tears would fall.

So that was the truth: they were worthless side characters, destined only to die as stepping stones for the protagonist’s rise. Their lives meant nothing.

But what crime had he committed?

What crime had his poor child committed?

And Li Mingjin, had he truly betrayed the realm?

No. Luo Shuyu knew those treasonous letters were forged. The handwriting was not Li Mingjin’s.

Yet none of that mattered. They were only characters in a book.

That undeniable truth burned into him. His soul flickered, seething with hatred.

He wanted those who had taken his child’s life to be buried with him. He wished them to suffer a fate as terrible as the one they had dealt. The hatred coiled in him like a living thing.

Lost in that rage, he did not notice the space around him begin to warp.

In the blink of an eye the room collapsed into a small black dot and then it was gone.

---

In the western courtyard of the Luo residence, the summer air was alive with cicadas and birdsong. A young man slept soundly on a lounge chair beneath the trees, a book resting across his chest.

“Master, Master, wake up! Wake up!”

Someone’s voice, accompanied by a gentle shake of his shoulder, pulled him from his nap.

A nap? But hadn’t he died? Wasn’t he reading that strange book?

Luo Shuyu’s eyes flew open. Before him was a face he knew well: young, earnest, still soft with youth. Sixteen or seventeen years old, Qingwang.

He remembered Qingwang’s dark skin, his expressive face that could never hide joy or anger. When they entered the Third Prince’s residence in his past life, and Luo Shuyu as master was neglected, Qingwang had quickly grown silent and mature, often stepping in to shield him.

But hadn’t Qingwang died? How could he still be here?

The memory surged clear as water: soldiers storming into the Third Prince’s estate, rough and merciless. Qingwang had stepped forward to block them for him, and was beaten on the spot. He had followed Luo Shuyu into prison, begged guards for food, only to be struck down by a drunken one. He died clutching a filthy steamed bun.

Now, seeing him alive and breathing, Luo Shuyu’s mind spun. Until Qingwang raised his voice again:

“Master, something’s happened!”

Luo Shuyu blinked, stunned, then suddenly pinched Qingwang’s cheek. “Does it hurt?”

Qingwang winced at the sharp tug, leaning closer to lessen the sting. “Ow, ow, ow! Master, what did Qingwang do wrong? Why are you pinching me so hard?”

Luo Shuyu shook his head. Dream? Memory? Or something else entirely? Had he been reborn into his own body? How else could Qingwang still be so young?

But reincarnation was always spoken of as entering another’s body. Yet here he was... back in his own, his servant alive and well.

Freed at last, Qingwang grew urgent again. “Master, truly, it’s serious this time!”

Luo Shuyu steadied himself, his voice calm. “What could possibly be so serious? Running about in a panic. If the mistress sees, you’ll earn yourself a beating, and I won’t save you then.”

Qingwang quickly admitted fault. “I know, Master, but this time it’s really urgent. I overheard the Master and Madam speaking. His Majesty is granting you and the Third Prince a marriage!”

Finally, the words tumbled out. He had been anxious to tell, baffled at how unbothered his master seemed.

Luo Shuyu frowned. “A betrothal?”

The word struck him for the second time. But unlike before, his heart no longer writhed with rebellion, bitterness, and unwilling resignation. Instead, he felt a quiet tremor.

And when he heard the name Third Prince, his mind drifted.

He saw again Li Mingjin’s body riddled with arrows, his dying voice repeating those words:

“Luo Shuyu, in your next life, stay far away from me…”

Once, he had believed Li Mingjin held no affection for him. They had been wed for years without sharing a bed. The only time was that one night, when Li Mingjin had been drugged. But even then, he had been gentle, helping him clean, and carrying him to bathe. Never once hurting him.

A man who shielded you with his life from blades and arrows, how could he have felt nothing?

Perhaps Luo Shuyu had been too mired in grief to ever ask why Li Mingjin had chosen him. Of all the men and women in the empire, why him?

In the realm of Great Xia, there were three genders: men, women, and gers.

Gers stood between the two. They could bear children, though less easily than women, and few families seeking heirs would ever take one as their primary spouse. Their status was low, rarely chosen as official wives.

However times had changed. In the emperor’s harem, a favored ger had risen to the rank of consort, holding his place among the four most esteemed. This had elevated the standing of gers throughout the realm.

Just then, the steward hurried in with news: Luo Shuyu was summoned to the front hall to receive the imperial decree.

With Qingwang’s help, he changed clothes. The decree had come faster than expected—just as it had in his last life. No time for preparation.

This time, though, he needed none.

---

The front hall was crowded. His father, Luo Renshou, the mistress of the household, the aged matriarch, siblings. All were present.

The Luo family was complicated. Luo Shuyu was the legitimate son, but his mother, Lady Chen, had died young. The current mistress, Lady Liu, had served Luo Renshou for years and was raised to wife a year after Chen’s death. She bore him two sons, a daughter, and a ger, and was well-favored. Even the matriarch deferred to her.

Luo Shuyu, though never doted upon by his father, was still the legitimate heir. His life was modest, but bearable.

At the center of the hall sat Marquis Wenchang, beside him an elderly eunuch holding the decree.

Luo Renshou was exchanging pleasantries with the marquis.

Wenchang Hou, sharp-eyed despite his age, stood the moment someone announced, “The Third Young Master has arrived.” He turned to Luo Renshou and said, “Lord Luo, let us begin the reading of the decree.”

Luo Renshou gestured politely. “Marquis, if you please.”

With the family kneeling in unison, the marquis accepted the decree and read aloud:

“By Heaven’s Mandate, the Emperor proclaims: We have heard of Luo Shuyu, son of Minister of Rites Luo Renshou, upright and gracious, gentle and learned, of fine appearance. The Empress Dowager and We are most pleased. Now, as Our Third Son has come of age, it is time he takes a worthy consort. Luo Shuyu, still awaiting betrothal, is Heaven’s match for Our Third Son. To fulfill this union, We hereby decree Luo Shuyu be married to the Third Prince as Prince Consort. All arrangements will be overseen by the Ministry of Rites and the Imperial Astronomers. Thus decreed.”

“Receive the decree!”

Luo Shuyu knelt with composure, neither servile nor arrogant. The marquis cast him a glance, thinking to himself: a good child, dignified and poised. What a pity, to be matched with the Third Prince.

As the words echoed in his ears, Luo Shuyu’s heart whispered far away:

Li Mingjin, in this life, I will never leave you. Not again.

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