Joining the Imperial Bride Selection (2)
Ivy Shen never dreamed the Imperial Bride Selection would be THIS wild. Right now, the mob outside Scholars’ Hall was packed so tight, it looked like fish in a blender—absolutely bonkers.
Sure, she’d heard this event hadn’t happened in years, and officially only girls aged sixteen to twenty-three could join. But seriously, why were there so many people here?!
Just as Ivy was having a mental meltdown over the crowd, she spotted a blinged-out merchant yanking a guy off to the side. Nosy as ever, Ivy tiptoed closer to eavesdrop. Hey, a little drama never hurt.
“Guard Qian, your aunt is one of the examiners this time, right? Could you maybe ask her to let my Lana Qiu pass the age check?” Boss Qiu pleaded, eyes full of hope.
“Boss Qiu, we’re friends, but this is the Crown Prince’s bride selection—we can’t mess around. Besides, your daughter is already twenty-five. That’s... not really appropriate!” Guard Qian hesitated, looking troubled.
“I know, I know! But this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. If my girl misses it, she’ll never get to soar like a phoenix. Please, Guard Qian, just help us out!” Boss Qiu whispered, sneaking a fat purse into his hand.
Guard Qian coughed. “Since you’re so sincere, I’ll help—but make sure your daughter keeps her mouth shut. If anyone finds out she faked her age, it’s off with her head!”
“Yes, yes, I’ve got it! Thank you, Guard Qian—if my girl really does become a phoenix consort, I’ll be sure to repay you!” Boss Qiu laughed, all smiles.
“No problem!” Guard Qian whispered a few words in his ear, and Boss Qiu bowed, grinning. He dashed off toward a nearby carriage—no doubt his daughter was waiting inside.
Watching this whole circus, Ivy finally got it—no wonder the place was packed to bursting! Everyone and their grandma wanted to leap the so-called ‘dragon gate.’ Never mind that once you got in, the ‘consort’ gig was basically a golden cage with an eject button. These people must’ve left their brains at home.
Right now, Scholars’ Hall was swarming with palace matrons. Over the next three days, they’d run the selection—first up, the visual interview.
Visual interview basically meant: how do you look?
Step one: the looks test. Crooked mouth? Wall-eyed? Pockmarks? Ears like satellite dishes? Zombie face? Brows shaped like boomerangs? Or just plain ‘what the heck happened’ ugly? OUT. Buh-bye!
Step two: measurement time. The matrons whipped out their tapes—height, bust, hips. Too short? Sorry, bad baby genes. Flat as a pancake? No milk for you! Hips too narrow? Sayonara, no sons in your future!
Third and final boss: the ultimate granny matron herself, personally checking if you were still a ‘jade seal’ original. Talk about invasive!
Only girls with ‘intact jade bodies’ could enter the palace and be picked by the Crown Prince himself.
Ivy breezed through the first gate, easy. At the second, the matrons practically dropped their measuring tapes—first at her knockout looks, then at the red tear-mole by her eye. That little beauty mark was so devilishly flirty, it could launch a thousand scandals.
Of course, this wasn’t Ivy’s real face—she was rocking a disguise courtesy of Butterfly Rogue’s face-changing magic. Who knew the flashy thief was also a master of makeup? His disguise skills were next-level. Clearly, that guy’s got more secrets than a palace treasury!
Just like that, she sailed into the third gate. Watching batch after batch get the boot, Ivy had to admit—even if these matrons were savage, their taste was... impressively consistent. Ruthless queens!
“Hey, what’s your name?” came a sudden, curious voice from behind Ivy.