The process of Madam He’s substitution marriage was handled much like Concubine Chun’s.

This was also why, aside from Concubine Chun’s exceptional skills in bed, Lord He had accepted the matter so quickly—it was simply because he had prior experience!

"Both the wife and concubine were substituted into the marriage, and now the daughter wants to pull the same trick? Does Lord He have some special constitution? Does the He Family really intend to pass down the tradition of substitution marriages through generations?" Yue Fuguang couldn’t help but tease.

She didn’t know who had removed the obstructive screen in front of their table, but the clear line of sight now allowed her to openly glance toward Lord He’s table.

Lord He Hongguang, under the scrutiny of both the emperor and his colleagues, was so embarrassed he could practically dig out a two-courtyard house with his toes.

To avoid arousing Yue Fuguang’s suspicion, he had to pretend to chat normally with his colleagues, feigning ignorance of the fact that his family’s disgrace had already been exposed—he knew nothing, absolutely nothing!

The one playing along in this awkward conversation was none other than Liu Mingqi, Lord Liu, the father of the unlucky Liu Hong. These two men, who had nearly become in-laws, now locked eyes in sheer discomfort.

"Little Pearl, is that man talking to Lord He Liu Hong’s father, Lord Liu Mingqi?"

[Master, it is indeed Lord Liu. Are they discussing the marriage arrangements between their children?]

"Lord Liu doesn’t look too pleased, nor is he giving Lord He a friendly expression. Did the marriage fall through?"

[It shouldn’t have. According to the original timeline, despite Madam He’s precautions, Concubine Chun and her daughter managed to exploit a loophole, and He Xiaodie successfully carried out the substitution.

Liu Hong, much like Lord He back in the day, was so enthralled by He Xiaodie’s bedroom techniques—learned from Concubine Chun—that even after discovering the truth the next day, he defied his parents’ objections and stubbornly accepted her.

From then on, they lived a life of unrestrained indulgence, and Liu Hong died within a few years due to overindulgence.]

Lord Liu’s face darkened as he glared at Lord He.

Lady Liu had already begun quietly wiping away tears, heartbroken for her youngest son while silently resenting him for his lack of self-control, which had led to his own demise.

The fact that her son had died atop a woman could no longer be concealed, and his future marriage prospects…

At this thought, Madam He’s tears flowed even more fiercely.

"What happened to Eldest Miss He afterward? Even though she was the victim, her reputation must have suffered somewhat from having her marriage stolen."

Perhaps in the eyes of the world, they would assume that if Eldest Miss He could have her marriage stolen, she must have had flaws of her own—at the very least, a lack of capability. Otherwise, how could a powerless illegitimate daughter snatch such a promising match?

The notion of blaming the victim was hardly rare, whether in ancient times or now.

[Eldest Miss He later married one of Lord He’s disciples. Though life wasn’t prosperous, it was manageable. After the fall of the Great Yan Dynasty, she struggled to survive, moving from place to place and supporting her family through handicrafts.]

"Handicrafts? Embroidery?"

Yue Fuguang recalled that women in ancient times were exceptionally skilled in needlework—unlike modern times, where some could barely sew a button without pricking themselves.

[Not embroidery. During the war-torn era, most people were too busy starving to spare any interest in buying decorative embroidery.

To avoid being captured by bandits or soldiers, many women deliberately made themselves look unattractive, fearing they’d be violated.

After all, the line between soldiers and bandits had blurred—today’s soldier could be tomorrow’s bandit, and today’s bandit could seize territory and proclaim themselves soldiers the next day.

Driven by bestial urges, these savages spared no one—neither women in their forties nor little girls mere years old.

Life was as cheap as grass. Those they slept with one day might end up in their cooking pots the next.]

Gagging sounds erupted.

More ladies and young misses who had overheard these thoughts trembled in horror, their knuckles whitening as they clenched their handkerchiefs.

If forced to live in such chaos, they would rather die before the fall of Great Yan—at least then, they could keep their bodies intact.

No, they must go home and urge their husbands or fathers to serve the emperor diligently. Great Yan must grow stronger—the tragedy of a fallen nation must never come to pass.

Otherwise, to preserve their chastity, they would surely take their own lives before the country’s collapse.

The officials felt a chill down their spines, as if countless tiny whips were about to lash at them, turning them into beasts of burden—donkeys grinding mills or oxen plowing fields.

Under the relentless scrutiny of their wives and daughters, they would find their political duties monitored more closely than ever.

Emperor Mingxi and his ministers, upon hearing once more of the three-century-long turmoil after Great Yan’s fall, felt their scalps prickle.

If the future truly unfolded as the divine artifact described—with endless deaths—how many people would remain after three hundred years?

They realized with stark clarity: if even a noblewoman like Eldest Miss He had to scrape by on handicrafts, how much worse would their own descendants fare?

The grim possibility that their bloodlines might not survive became painfully real.

Lord Wu, who had just welcomed a plump grandson, Wu Yuanjing, into the world two days prior, suddenly grew restless. Great Yan could not fall—his grandson’s life of luxury had barely begun! How could the country collapse?

Was being a conquered people so easy? A ten-year-old child would be nothing more than food for those butchers!

Lord Wu gazed imploringly at the solemn emperor and the equally grim-faced crown prince. These two must not die—their survival meant Great Yan’s survival, and Great Yan’s survival meant his grandson’s continued prosperity.

His thoughts were simple: protect the emperor and crown prince, protect Great Yan, protect his grandson’s future.

Many officials shared this sentiment. Among the emperor’s grown sons, aside from the crown prince, the others were mediocre at best—good for nothing but stirring trouble.

Only recently, since they began hearing the young immortal’s thoughts, had they quieted down.

They ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‍still didn’t know which successor would ascend after the crown prince’s early death and the emperor’s sudden demise, leading Great Yan to ruin.

Perhaps the new ruler wasn’t solely to blame, but incompetence was undoubtedly a factor.

The system paid no heed to their concerns and continued:

[Eldest Miss He had been fascinated by mechanical devices since childhood, though she dared not show it due to her status.

During the chaos, she relied on these skills to escape danger and support her in-laws.

Most of her clients were families with some wealth—precisely the ones most likely to be targeted by bandits or soldiers, who never gave warning before looting.

Thus, her traps and small mechanisms were in high demand, serving as both protection and early warning systems.]

Yue Fuguang praised, "This Eldest Miss He is quite the talent. With proper training, she might have become a master in this field. The lethality of mechanical devices should never be underestimated."

Emperor Mingxi nodded thoughtfully to himself. Upon returning, he would speak with Lord He—such talent was perfectly suited for the Ministry of Works.

Minister of Works Lu Qi shared the same sentiment. His ministry was in dire need of precisely this kind of expertise. In this regard, the emperor and his minister were in perfect harmony.

As for the tradition that women could not hold official positions? In the face of a nation’s annihilation, all such conventions must yield.

If their descendants’ very survival was at stake, why cling to rigid propriety? Emperor Mingxi wouldn’t even need to intervene personally—Lord Wu beneath him would leap forward to tear apart anyone who dared stir dissent.