After Losing Her Memory, She Seduces Him into Passion Every Night

Novel Info

Author:
鶴傾
Status:Ongoing

Summary

Princess Royal Rong Li was ordered by imperial decree to marry Zhan Qin, the Commander of the Jinwu Guard. Unexpectedly, the two felt nothing but mutual distaste. In their two years of marriage, there wasn’t a hint of marital affection; rumors even claimed the Princess Royal wouldn’t let the Imperial Son-in-law near her, and the marriage remained unconsummated to this day.

Everyone in the capital was betting on when this resentful couple would finally divorce. However, during a grand hunt, Rong Li fell off a cliff, hit her head, and fell into a deep, unresponsive sleep.

The day Zhan Qin returned to court coincided with the Princess Royal’s awakening.

He didn’t even bother to change out of his armor before heading to the Princess’s Manor, intending to merely go through the motions of showing concern. After all, in the past, he couldn’t even get through her door; he’d usually just check in at the courtyard and leave. Why waste time shedding his gear?

To his surprise, Rong Li poked her head out of the small latticed window. Those phoenix eyes, usually cold as ice, suddenly brimmed with tears the moment they landed on him.

Having not seen him for months, the little Highness ran out barefoot and crashed into his arms: “A-Li’s head hurts so much.”

After saying that, she reached out to unbuckle his armor, her lips pouting with immense grievance: “It’s so hard, it hurts when I bump into it. Take it off.”

Zhan Qin: “…?”

Since that fall, Zhan Qin felt that the gaze the Princess Royal once reserved for disgust had undergone a quiet transformation.

–

The Princess Royal had hit her head. While the rest of her memories were perfectly intact, she had misremembered one thing—she believed she and her Consort were a pair of “mandarin ducks,” deeply in love and perfectly harmonious. No matter how the servants insisted they were originally planning to divorce and had even drafted the papers, she wouldn’t hear it.

Nonsense! Utter slander!

She suffered from a serious “ailment”—a fire in her heart that required “yin-yang harmony” to soothe.

Since she needed a cure, and given her Consort’s looks and physique, how could the Princess Royal—who had been pampered since childhood—possibly let him go?

The Consort was meant to be used by the Princess!

To treat her illness… no, to prove she and her Consort were the best couple in the world:

When the Consort was on duty, she sent ice to cool him down; when she ground ink for him, her eyes were full of hearts.

When the Consort went to the palace, she followed close behind; when she was drunk, she grabbed his sleeve and refused to let go.

When the Consort was injured, she sobbed piteously, insisting on stripping his clothes to apply his medicine.

When the Consort tried to leave the manor, she acted spoiled and coquettish, finally succeeding in dragging him onto the Princess’s bed.

The bets in the capital changed again. Everyone speculated whether the wilful Princess Royal was intentionally using this method to disgust the Consort, forcing him to ask the Emperor for a divorce first. Yet, someone noticed that the Consort’s Manor had quietly lost its master, while the parrot in the Princess’s bedchamber was moved out overnight.

–

Hearing that the Princess and her Consort were deeply in love, the Empress Dowager gratifiedly bestowed the Manual of Male Virtue. Commander Zhan studied it for a long time before finally stepping into the Princess’s bedchamber under the moonlight.

Unexpectedly, before he could demonstrate the results of his studies, he was swept out the door by the cold-faced Princess Royal.

Gazing at the familiar arrogance and indifference on the Princess Royal’s face, the Consort’s eyes darkened.

On the twelfth time he was about to be driven out of the bedchamber, he leaned over her. Rong Li’s elegant brows knitted, but the Consort’s hands—hands meant for wielding a sword and killing—guided her own hands to untie his raven-blue brocade cloak.

His face remained as cold as frost and snow, yet the Flying Fish Robe he usually wore with meticulous order was now being pulled open by his own hand, revealing a glimpse of his pale, lean chest.

Gold and silver chains wound around the muscles of his neck, shimmering against her porcelain skin under the candlelight of the hall, before he finally pressed them into Rong Li’s palm.

His calloused fingertips brushed against her pinky finger, and his breath coiled around her ear like a damp, snowy night:

“Does Your Highness no longer have a use for me? That ‘ailment’… are we curing it or not?”

–

Well, having a Consort who is too useful isn’t great either.

Reading Guide:

1.
Small Li is young, but she has reached the age of hair-pinning (legal adulthood) when the story starts.

2.
Her condition is essentially a higher level of Skin Thirst Syndrome.

3.
The male lead is incredibly “strong” with a huge personality contrast. He loves being a cold-faced “male virtue” servant for her.

4.
All-fictional setting with many private headcanons.

Novel Items

Lion Steed

Item

A white horse gifted by the Emperor himself. Zhan Qin rode it upon returning to the capital. Its pace faltered when a rider whispered something to Zhan Qin.

Flying Fish Robes

Item

Robes worn by the light cavalry beneath their chainmail. The gilded patterns flickered and reflected brilliant, shimmering light with every movement of their horses.

Hidden Pouch

Item

A pouch belonging to Rong Li. She was angrily kneading it when Xieyue and Fuyun came to serve medicine, then squeezed it flat and threw it aside in frustration.

Silver-threaded Plums

Item

A type of preserved plum stored in the curio cabinet. Fuyun skillfully took out a stack to feed to Rong Li after she drank her medicine.

Rong Li's Fall and Amnesia

Event

During last month's hunt, Rong Li was startled by her horse and fell off a cliff, hitting her head. She fell into a deep sleep and only woke up at dawn of the current day. The imperial physician diagnosed lingering blood stasis causing muddled memories. She does not remember her past hostile relationship with Zhan Qin and instead believes they are deeply in love. The physician advised keeping her happy and satisfied, and not provoking or opposing her.

Spirit-Concentrating Pill

Pills

A pill developed by the female physician to treat Rong Li's condition. It helps reduce her fever and internal heat, but its efficacy is limited and diminishes with repeated use. Emperor Shuntian ordered the physician to keep it readily available at Chang Gongzhu Fu.

Latest Release

Date	Group	Release
2026-08-11	shanghai fantasy	c10
2026-08-11	shanghai fantasy	c9
2026-08-11	shanghai fantasy	c8
2026-08-11	shanghai fantasy	c7
2026-08-11	shanghai fantasy	c6
2026-08-11	shanghai fantasy	c5
2026-08-11	shanghai fantasy	c4
2026-08-11	shanghai fantasy	c3
2026-08-11	shanghai fantasy	c2
2026-08-11	shanghai fantasy	c1

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Popular reviews

AliCeyhunn7O Review ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ April 24,2025

I started reading Chapter 1 at 11 PM. It is now 2:47 AM. I have no regrets. The pacing here is absolutely masterful. Let me break down why this works so well. The chapter opens with external action—the cavalry parade, the gossiping nobles—giving us context and worldbuilding in one smooth motion. Then we pivot sharply to Zhan Qin arriving at the manor, and the tension builds through small, almost imperceptible details: Xieyue's unusual tension, her mouth drooping slightly, the way she steps aside instead of blocking him. Every beat is calibrated. The author doesn't rush to the big reveal; instead we get this slow, almost painful buildup where Zhan Qin's suspicion grows and the reader grows with it. Then—BAM—the window flies open and there she is, unmade, tearful, vulnerable. The transition from his cold, armored exterior to her soft, disheveled appearance is a masterclass in contrast. Chapter 2 continues this rhythm perfectly. The physical embrace, the flashback to their last meeting, the Hidden Pouch tantrum—it all flows naturally. What I particularly appreciate is that the author never lets the scene breathe too long. Just when you're settling into the tenderness, Rong Li gets angry about something trivial and throws a pouch. The emotional whiplash keeps you engaged. And that ending with 'a new stack of p'—cutting off mid-word is either a glitch or the most ruthless cliffhanger I've ever encountered. Either way, I need Chapter 3 immediately.

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MartinDenKatte Review ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ April 5,2026

I need to talk about the stakes in this chapter because they are NOT subtle and I am obsessed. On the surface, the conflict is simple: Rong Li wants reconciliation, Zhan Qin is resisting. But the author keeps layering on additional threats that make every intimate moment feel dangerous. First, there's the physical danger of the fever. Rong Li is literally burning up, and she's in a government office with hidden eyes watching. If someone discovers her condition — or worse, discovers WHY she's in such a condition — the political consequences could be catastrophic. The emperor already gave Zhan Qin a "meaningful admonition" and a jade box of rewards. Whatever those contain, they're clearly connected to this situation, and neither of them knows what to do with them. The "hidden eyes" detail is mentioned explicitly when Zhan Qin seals the windows and doors. This isn't just paranoia — it's a recognized threat. Someone is watching them, and their private moment is constantly under surveillance. Every touch, every whispered word, every moment of vulnerability could be recorded and used against them. The author makes us feel this tension in every scene transition. Then there's the class conflict. Zhan Qin's past is referenced — the "filthy, unspeakable work" he did to survive, the vulgar words he heard. He comes from the lowest rungs of society and rose through military merit. Rong Li is imperial royalty, raised in gold and jade. Their worlds are supposed to be separate, and the author keeps reminding us that society won't accept what they have. When she guides his hand toward her and he lifts her into his arms instead, he's choosing her despite knowing the cost. The external conflict with the emperor is the biggest stake of all. The unopened jade box represents imperial favor — and imperial control. Whatever the emperor has given Zhan Qin, it comes with expectations. Rong Li is essentially asking him to choose between his duty to the throne and his duty to her. And she's doing it while half-conscious and feverish, which makes it even more tragic — she's making life-altering demands without fully understanding the consequences. But here's what makes the conflict so compelling: the author never lets us forget that BOTH of them want this. Zhan Qin isn't rejecting her because he doesn't care — he's rejecting her because he cares too much and knows the dangers. Every time he says no, he's really saying "I want to protect you from myself." And Rong Li knows this, which is why she keeps pushing. She's not just chasing affection; she's chasing proof that he chooses her despite the risks. The carriage scene raises the stakes to a new level. They're now in public space, moving through the city, with servants and subordinates everywhere. He's carrying her in his arms — an act that would be scandalous if witnessed. And yet, he does it anyway. The conflict isn't resolved; it's intensified. Every step toward intimacy is also a step toward danger. The author ends the chapter with Rong Li asleep and Zhan Qin handing her off to her servants with that detached tone. But we know the real conflict is just beginning. The fever will break. The jade box will be opened. The hidden eyes will report back. And then what? The stakes have been established, and I am NOT ready for what comes next.

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MuzeRion Review ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ December 20,2025

I need to talk about how the author builds tension here because it's genuinely impressive. Let me trace the structure for a second. We open with Rong Li still recovering from the poison incident, dealing with the awkward booklets, the Emperor checking on her, the whole palace routine. It's a slow, almost domestic opening. Then—BAM—she asks about the Imperial Consort and the pacing immediately sharpens. She's not just pining, she's making a PLAN. Six portions of Sushan, red and green bean soup, ice chest, changing clothes, the whole operation. The author doesn't rush this at all. We watch her prepare like we're watching someone defuse a bomb. Then the carriage ride, the guards saluting, walking through the headquarters—each beat slows down, stretches out. By the time she pushes open that study door, the tension is so thick you could cut it. And then Zhan Qin is standing by the window with armed guards and bound prisoners and she's holding a bowl of dessert. The absurdity of that image is perfect. He shuts her down, she doesn't back down, she just... relocates. And then the pavilion scene—she's reading a storybook, eating, completely casual, and he appears at the doorway like a ghost. The author controls the pacing so well here. Every scene transition feels deliberate. The chapter ends on this note of her pacing around his sparse quarters, discovering nothing, and the reader is left hanging on what she'll do next. No cliffhanger per se, but that lingering question of 'what happens now?' is doing a lot of heavy lifting. I stayed up way too late reading this.

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That_Cultivator Review ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ July 3,2025

Okay so this entire sequence is basically one long, deliciously tense scene and I am HERE for it. Let me break down why this works so well from a plot structure standpoint. We open with Rong Li alone in Zhan Qin's office — and the author immediately establishes the contrast between her gilded life and his ascetic one. The teapot, the strategy book, the fresh ink... all these details do double duty as both worldbuilding AND character exposition. She's looking for him, but also literally looking into his private space. That's a plot move. Then Zhan Qin appears. Not dramatically, just... there. And the whole dynamic shifts. What I love is how the author structures the escalation: she tries reasoning → he deflects → she gets physical (clinging to him) → he tries to send her away → she escalates to the kiss request → he finally gives in but on his own terms (carrying her out). The structure is basically a series of push-and-pull moments, each one raising the stakes slightly. And the best part? The author never lets us forget the external pressure — the "hidden eyes" watching, the emperor's jade box, the fact that this office isn't private. Every intimate moment is shadowed by the threat of discovery, which keeps the tension razor-sharp. The carriage scene is where the plot really pays off. He could've just dropped her off and left. Instead, he applies the ointment himself, and she calls him "stingy." That's a full circle moment — she came in demanding affection, he gives her practical care instead, and somehow that's even more intimate. The author understands that reconciliation in these kinds of stories isn't about grand gestures, it's about small cracks in the armor. I also want to talk about the pacing. The author could've rushed this — she's feverish, he's cold, let's just get to the kissing already. But no. The author makes us WAIT. Every request she makes gets deflected or redirected. And that delay is what makes the payoff so satisfying. When he finally carries her, it feels earned. The ink-stain moment? Chef's kiss. She deliberately ruins his work to force him to engage with her. That's not just character — that's plot mechanics. She's using every tool at her disposal because she knows logic won't work on him. And the ending — she falls asleep in his arms, he hands her off to her servants with that detached tone, but we ALL know something shifted. The plot has moved forward even if neither character will admit it yet. I'm already anticipating the next chapter.

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HopelessRomantic32 Review ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ April 3,2025

Let me be real with you—the stakes in this chapter are deceptively high. On the surface, it's a wife trying to reconcile with her cold husband. Cute, right? But remember: Rong Li is poisoned. She NEEDS Zhan Qin's help to detoxify. Every day she spends alienating him is a day she's risking her life. That's not just emotional stakes, that's survival stakes. And the author never lets us forget it. When she's making her plan—six portions, ice chest, the whole thing—she's not just being romantic, she's being strategic. She's buying time. But then there's the external conflict too. The Jinwu Guard is handling some serious case—bound prisoners, armed generals, the Commander personally interrogating. This is happening in the background, and it raises the question: what is Zhan Qin dealing with? Is he distracted? Vulnerable? Or is this exactly why he can't afford any 'distractions'? The scene where she walks into the study and finds him in full authority mode, surrounded by soldiers and prisoners, is one of the most tense moments in this entire batch. She's holding a bowl of Sushan like it's a peace offering, and he looks at her like she's a liability. And yet—she doesn't retreat. 'Winning her husband back was a long-term endeavor.' She's playing the long game while literally running out of time. The internal conflict is just as sharp: she wants to be genuine with him, but she doesn't know how. She's performing affection because that's what the storybooks taught her, and she's terrified he'll see through it. But here's what keeps me hooked—the fact that he might already see through it and is choosing to let her have this moment anyway. What does that mean? I need to know.

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lifesketchervQk Review ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ March 15,2025

The opening scene with the wild geese flying south and the light cavalry in soft armor—immediately I'm transported. This isn't just some generic ancient Chinese backdrop, the author gives us specific visual details that make Yanjing feel like a real place. The Flying Fish Robes flickering beneath chainmail, the gilded patterns reflecting light, that flash of white from the Emperor's gift—the Lion Steed. These aren't throwaway descriptions; they're worldbuilding through visual storytelling. Then we get the balcony scene with the noble youths, their laughter, the gossip about Zhuque Street and the Princess Royal's manor. It's like a camera panning across a painting. And Rong Li's Qiwu Courtyard—the bead curtain, the lattice window, the chaise longue with scattered portraits, the silver-threaded plums in the curio cabinet. Every detail serves dual purpose: it builds atmosphere AND reveals character. Those portraits of handsome young men scattered around the princess's feet? That's not just set dressing, that's the author telling us about her loneliness and rebellion without a single line of exposition. The contrast between the cold, armored exterior of Zhan Qin's world (horses, chainmail, armor buckles) and the soft, fragrant interior of the manor (sweet medicine, peach blossom cheeks, pearl-adorned shoes) creates this beautiful visual tension that mirrors their entire relationship. The scene where she kneads that Hidden Pouch in anger is such a small detail but it makes the whole world feel lived-in.

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