Chapter 1: The Grand Tutor is a Fraud
In his first life, Lin Zhaoming was a "scholar" only in the sense that he owned books. He spent his days in a cramped apartment, surviving on spicy gluten and cheap noodles, "studying" Chinese history through C-dramas and grand strategy games.
His greatest achievement? Conquering all of Asia in Total War while his real-life diploma gathered dust.
His death was... less than legendary.
While shouting at a TV screen because a fictional Emperor was making "tactical blunders," Zhaoming reached for his charging cable with greasy fingers. He slipped on a discarded noodle cup, his head hit the desk, and his hand yanked the live wire.
His last thought: Wait, I haven't saved my game—!
The Awakening
"Grand Tutor! Grand Tutor, praise the Heavens, you're awake!"
Zhaoming's eyes snapped open. He wasn't in his room. He was under a silk canopy so expensive it probably cost more than his previous life's rent.
[Memory Transmission Initiated]
A flood of information hit him like a freight train. He wasn't a king. He wasn't a legendary general. He was Lin Zhaoming, the Grand Imperial Tutor of the Heavenly Dominion Realm.
* Status: Senior Civil Rank.
* Asset: One Empress (Older Sister, Lin Yuehua).
* Job: Teaching arrogant princes how to read and not be tyrants.
* Current Situation: He had fallen into the lotus pond two days ago while trying to "heroically" save a falling court lady (he actually just tripped).
"Grand Tutor! Speak to us!" a panicked voice cried.
Zhaoming looked up. A young eunuch, Sun Dexiu, was vibrating with anxiety next to the bed.
Instinct took over. The "Grand Tutor" muscle memory was stronger than his otaku soul. His face didn't twitch. His voice came out like frozen silk—cold, stoic, and terrifyingly calm.
"Why are you shouting?" Zhaoming asked, his tone flat. "What is happening that requires such... noise?"
Sun Dexiu fell to his knees, trembling. "My Lord! You've been unconscious for two days! The palace is in an uproar! Her Majesty the Empress is beside herself!"
"Calm yourself," Zhaoming said, sitting up slowly. Inside, he was screaming: I'M REBORN? IN A PALACE? AM I THE EMPEROR? TELL ME I'M THE EMPEROR!
"How much time is left?" Zhaoming asked, testing the waters.
"One hour, My Lord! Only one hour until the Selection Ceremony!"
Zhaoming paused. Selection Ceremony? The memory snapped into place: The Crown Prince, Yun Jianyu, was selecting a fiancée today. As the Grand Tutor and the Empress's brother, his presence wasn't just requested—it was a legal requirement for "Moral Guidance."
"One hour," Zhaoming repeated. "Leave me. I shall prepare."
"Yes, My Lord! Right away, My Lord!"
The Reality Check
The moment the doors closed, the "Grand Tutor" collapsed.
Zhaoming slid off the bed and slumped into a corner, his forehead hitting the cold wall. He looked like a man who had just lost the lottery.
Why me?! he wailed internally. I'm an otaku! I play games! I don't actually know how to run a country! I'm not a king! I'm not even a wealthy merchant! I'm a glorified teacher! I have no command authority! I'm legally 'neutral'! That's just a fancy way of saying I have no friends!
He looked at his hands. Long, elegant fingers. No calluses.
He crawled to a bronze mirror and stopped.
The man in the mirror was... breathtaking. Long, ink-black hair spilled over his shoulders. His skin was like pale jade, and his eyes carried a natural, cold arrogance that made him look like an immortal who had just stepped off a mountain.
Wait... Zhaoming leaned closer. I'm actually... handsome? Like, 'villainous top-tier male lead' handsome?
He stood up, adjusting his silk robes. A slow, shameless smile spread across his face.
Forget being a Grand Tutor. With this face, I should just find a wealthy Duchess and become a trophy son-in-law. Politics is for idiots. I just want to eat grapes and be pampered.
The Hook: The Palace Hall
One hour later.
The Great Phoenix Hall was heavy with the scent of expensive incense. Empress Lin Yuehua sat behind a beaded curtain, her presence radiating authority.
Standing in the center of the hall was the Second Prince, Yun Haoran. He was the "patient" one, the one Zhaoming's memories warned him to watch out for.
As Zhaoming walked in—acting every bit the cold, stoic legend—he heard the Second Prince's voice ring out through the hall, addressing the gathered noble ladies, including a silent, white-haired beauty named Ji Wanqing.
"My brother, the Crown Prince, seeks a wife of intellect," Yun Haoran said smoothly. "Therefore, I shall set the test. I will recite the first half of a poetic verse. The woman who completes it correctly... shall be the one to step forward."
Zhaoming took his seat, his face a mask of indifference, while his mind was racing: Please don't ask me to grade the poems. Please don't ask me to grade the poems...