Chu Zhao felt as if she had fallen into a stormy sea, with dark clouds blotting out the sky, plunging everything into pitch-black darkness as she rose and fell amidst towering waves.
At times, the seawater crushed her; at other times, it felt like countless hands tearing her apart. In those moments, her entire body ached as if her skin were splitting and flesh rending, the pain so intense her bones seemed to scream.
Occasionally, there was a sudden calm, and she drifted with the ocean's rhythm, swaying so comfortably that she longed to sink to the seabed and fall into a deep slumber.
But each time she was about to drift off, clamorous noises—clashing swords, the sounds of battle—echoed in her ears, jolting her awake and making her wonder what was happening.
Xie Yanlai!
Mother!
She struggled desperately to open her eyes, and the noises around her grew clearer.
"—The road ahead is blocked—"
"—I know another way—"
"—Follow Mouse Granny—"
"—Auntie, Auntie—Ding Dachui is failing—"
"—Auntie, Auntie—Chu Zhao is failing too—"
"—Wuuu Auntie—I’m failing too—"
Hearing this, Chu Zhao almost felt like laughing, even wanting to call out to Xiao Man, "Don’t be afraid. If the three of us fail, at least we’ll have company."
She shouted it in her heart, unable to hear her own voice, but she heard a gentle woman’s voice instead.
"Don’t be afraid. Auntie is here. None of you will die."
Chu Zhao felt her swaying body gradually stabilize, even sensing warmth, no longer the cold and emptiness.
She seemed to be pressed against someone, a body soft and warm. Flickering light seeped through her eyelids—wavering shadows, night, torches, and the wind whistling past her eyes—
Her dazed gaze fell forward, taking in disheveled hair and a smooth, slender neck.
"Mother," she said.
She didn’t know if she had spoken aloud, for she couldn’t hear herself, but the person in front of her turned around. In the dim, flickering light, she saw a gentle face.
"My dear child," the woman whispered, "Mother is here."
Mother… Chu Zhao gazed dazedly at this face—it was Mu Mianhong.
This was her mother.
"Mother," Chu Zhao murmured, "Liang Fei said you were dead, and also... I’ve been poisoned. Xiao Xun tried to kill me with poison."
An arm wrapped around her waist, giving it a firm pat.
"Zhaozhao, Mother won’t die, and neither will you," Mu Mianhong’s voice was resolute and strong. "Mother is carrying you on her back. You have nothing to fear."
My dear child, Zhaozhao—no one had ever called her that before.
Chu Zhao remembered watching Chu Tang and Jiang Shi together—how Chu Tang would nestle close to Jiang Shi, who would stroke her shoulder and call her "my child." Back then, she had wondered, if her own mother were still alive, how would she call her?
So it would be like this.
Mother called her "my dear child," called her "Zhaozhao."
The affectionate names from her mother’s lips sounded so beautiful.
Chu Zhao pressed closer to Mu Mianhong, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist.
How wonderful.
Mother wasn’t dead.
Mother had come to save her.
With Mother here, she wasn’t afraid at all.
Her body sank back into the seawater, her consciousness fading into chaos. She could no longer perceive the sounds around her, and eventually, even the sensation of swaying vanished.
She seemed to disappear, yet also to land—cold, hard ground, with chaotic noises fading in and out, as if many people were running and crying out.
These noises stirred waves in her muddled consciousness, washing over her, making her stiff body rise and fall once more.Screams surged like a tidal wave, a warm **rush assaulting her senses. Chu Zhao’s nose and mouth were instantly blocked, but the next moment, she gasped for air and abruptly opened her eyes. A sea of crimson flooded her vision.
Blood.
Then, a corpse sliced in half.
The body was clad in lavish palace robes.
Screams echoed in her ears once more.
“Your Majesty, come inside, hide—”
“Ah—”
“—Stay back—”
“—My brother—Liang Qiang is my brother—”
“Don’t kill me—”
Liang Qiang? Chu Zhao’s consciousness sharpened. She strained to look ahead, spotting the palace doors, the fallen eunuchs and palace maids, and a young woman standing by the entrance. Though she couldn’t see her face, the woman’s alluring figure and familiar robes were unmistakable.
Empress ceremonial robes.
Those were the Empress’s ceremonial robes.
The fighting at the doors seemed to have ceased. The alluring woman let out a joyful cry, “Brother—”
She dashed forward.
“Brother, I knew you’d come to save me—”
But as soon as she took a step, another scream tore from her lips.
Chu Zhao watched as an arrow pierced through her.
She collapsed, hitting the ground and twisting, half her face turning toward Chu Zhao.
Chu Zhao saw her delicate features clearly—her large, wide eyes.
“Brother—I’m your sister—why—” she murmured, her words unfinished as she fell still. Her eyes remained wide open, frozen in terror and disbelief.
Liang Fei. Chu Zhao’s lips twitched. The face was both strange and familiar—the one who had handed her a cup of poisoned wine. She had memorized that face before her death, yet it felt distant. Chu Zhao’s thoughts stalled. Distant, as if she hadn’t seen it in a long time.
Why hadn’t she seen it in so long?
Her mind felt heavy and muddled, memories slowly resurfacing. She remembered—she had died.
Xiao Xun had given her poisoned wine to elevate his new favorite, Lady Liang, to Empress. Because Uncle Zhong was dead, the Liang father and son now held military power—
The Liang father and son. Liang Qiang.
But why had Liang Qiang killed his own sister?
“General Liang—Liang Fei is dead,” a voice shouted.
“Take the body and show it to the Third Young Master,” a man’s voice commanded. “The remnants of Xiao Xun have been eliminated.”
Guards stepped forward, dragging the corpse from the doorway. Someone approached, standing over Liang Fei’s body and looking down.
Chu Zhao also lifted her gaze to him.
The man wore military attire, a crossbow in hand, a sword at his waist, his armor and robes stained with blood.
This was Liang Qiang—familiar yet unfamiliar. Familiar, as if she had just seen him; unfamiliar, with his short beard, he seemed years older.
His face was gloomier, his eyes utterly indifferent.
Liang Qiang had killed his own sister?
What had he said earlier? Remnants of Xiao Xun? Third Young Master?
Chu Zhao felt her thoughts swirling in confusion, yet nothing seemed out of place. Xiao Xun had married Liang Fei, and Liang Qiang’s backer was Xie Yanfang.
“The Third Young Master is here—”
At the call, Liang Qiang withdrew his gaze and turned, straightening his posture with a hint of fear.
Chu Zhao also looked over, but the person seemed exceptionally tall. No matter how she strained, she couldn’t see his face—only his moon-white robes.
“Young Master,” Liang Qiang greeted respectfully. “The newly appointed Empress by Xiao Xun, Empress Liang, has been eliminated.”
A man’s voice hummed softly, then asked with curiosity, “What is in here?”
“Young Master, this was the residence of the late Empress Chu,” a guard explained. “Her body was never buried; the coffin remains here.”
Chu Zhao watched as the robes swayed, the man stepping over the threshold and entering."The Chu clan, is this that Empress Chu?" he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "After all this time cursing her, I've never actually seen her in person."
The guards followed him inside, attempting to dissuade him. "Young Master, she's been dead for so long, it's unseemly. Don't let her defile your eyes."
Yes, before her death, she had been ill for a long time, and in the end, she died in agony after drinking poisoned wine. Her face must have been contorted and terrifying. Chu Zhao couldn't help but reach up to touch her own face, but the next moment, she was shocked to find she had no hand—what extended was a thin, black antenna.
Chu Zhao stared in disbelief at her antenna, then watched as a figure in moon-white robes walked past her.
"So this is Empress Chu," he said. "Utterly unremarkable."
At this, he seemed amused by his own words.
"Everyone in this world is just the same."
Yes, no one in this world could compare to you, Young Master Xie the Third. You look down on everyone, treating all as mere ants. Chu Zhao turned her head and saw a coffin placed behind her.
She also saw the young master standing before the coffin.
His hair was as dark as ink, his face as pale as jade, his profile sharp as if carved by a blade, and his eyes held a hint of laughter.
She was not at all unfamiliar with him, including the expression on his face. It seemed not long ago, she had been looking at that very face.
But if Empress Chu was lying in the coffin, then she—Chu Zhao lowered her head to look at herself and realized she had turned into a ground beetle.
A ground beetle!
She scurried frantically, weaving through the corpses on the ground, climbing up the coffin, and peering inside—
She saw herself.
Emaciated, decayed, unfamiliar—herself.
Memories flooded over her like water. She had died, killed by Xiao Xun, but she wasn't dead. Had she turned into a ground beetle?
Yes, during her secluded days, Xiao Xun no longer visited, and palace servants rarely came. The palace had become desolate, overrun with snakes, insects, mosquitoes, and flies.
Lying in bed, she had watched ground beetles crawl by. At first, she had screamed in fear, but over time, she grew accustomed to them and even used food to feed the insects.
Chu Zhao stared blankly, her thoughts drifting as she looked into the coffin, while the young master's voice echoed in her ears again.
"Chu is dead, but so be it. She was indeed useless," he said. "To Xiao Xun, and to me, she no longer served any purpose."
Useless.
Chu Zhao raised her head, clinging to the edge of the coffin. From this vantage point, she could see the young master's face more clearly, noticing the cold ruthlessness in his eyes.
Ha, ha, ha. So not long after Xiao Xun killed her, Xie Yanfang, the rebel, had breached the capital?
But while her memories said so, something still felt off.
"Young Master—" A guard rushed in from outside. "Xiao Xun has been killed by Young Master Yan Lai—"
Yan Lai?
Chu Zhao froze. That name—it sounded so familiar.
"But Xiao Xun set the palace on fire," the guard continued. "Young Master Yan Lai is still inside. Should we put out the fire?"
Xie Yanfang replied, "Xiao Xun was truly ruthless." His voice carried a hint of laughter. "Surround the palace. There's no need to extinguish the fire. Our A Jiu is even more ruthless—he definitely won't let Xiao Xun escape alive."
A Jiu? That name struck her like a thunderbolt.
A Jiu—
She lunged forward—
And tumbled into the coffin.
The next moment, someone reached out and caught her.
"Ah, what's this?" He lifted two fingers, examining the small black insect struggling between them.
"A ground beetle," the guard said. "Young Master, throw it away quickly. This palace is filled with the dead—it's filthy."
The young master didn't discard the insect. Instead, he smiled. "Young Master here has killed countless people. Why would I fear a little filth?"He sat down to the side, completely unfazed by the dust on the chair, resting his arm on the armrest and twirling the little black insect between his fingers.
"Young Master."
Outside, officers surged in, laughing heartily.
"Congratulations, Young Master! Joyful tidings, Young Master!"
"Xiao Xun has burned himself to death, the wicked empress has been eliminated, and the head of the traitor Deng Yi is hanging on the city gate."
The Young Master showed no trace of a smile, speaking indifferently, "The deaths of these villains cannot bring back the Crown Prince and my sister, nor A Yu."
"Young Master, the Crown Prince, Crown Princess, and the young prince can rest in peace knowing this in the underworld," the officers said, then exchanged glances and knelt on one knee. "Young Master—for the sake of the Crown Prince and Crown Princess, please take the Great Xia Empire—"
Outside, even more people knelt down, their shouts shaking the heavens.
"Please, Young Master, take the empire—"
The little black insect grew dizzy from the flipping between his fingers, finally stopping to see the Young Master's face, cold as jade.
"Is that all?" he muttered to himself. "Such an easy task, how boring."
Chu Zhao suddenly felt the fingers holding her tighten, on the verge of crushing her.
She struggled with all her might.
No, she couldn't die—no, wait, she was already dead, but even so, she couldn't die. Even as a little insect, she couldn't die. She had to see, to go and see—
A Jiu, that A Jiu—
As if disturbed by her struggle, the Young Master's gaze turned to her.
"This little insect seems unwilling to die," he said, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips. "But what can a little insect like you do even if you don't die?"
He flicked his hand.
The little black insect was sent flying through the air.
The world spun around her. Chu Zhao flailed her body mid-air, struggling to move outward—
A Jiu.
A Jiu.
Her clear vision blurred once more: torches, dimness, glints of blades and swords, the sounds of battle, shouts, and what seemed like laughter.
Hoofbeats thundered as a face burst into view—his head and face wrapped, his eyes shining brightly. He tossed a dagger in his hand.
"Hey, you're a spy, stealing my letter," he shouted. "Will you talk? If you don't, I'll kill you—"
The dagger gleamed coldly as it flew toward her.
But the next moment, the dagger flew back from afar, piercing his chest. He stood on the edge of a cliff, covered in blood, looking down as he softly called, "Chu Zhao—"
Chu Zhao plummeted toward the ground, stretching out her hand with all her strength. "A Jiu—"
The moment she hit the ground, she jolted upright, gasping for breath, her eyes panicked as she reached forward.
A hand grasped hers, warm and firm.
"I'm here, we're here," a woman's voice said gently. "Mother is here."
Chu Zhao's hazy vision gradually focused on the person before her.
"Mother?" she murmured.
Mu Mianhong nodded. "Yes, Mother is here."
Mother...
A flood of memories overwhelmed Chu Zhao, and she let out a long sigh. "Mother, I had such a long nightmare—"
With those words, she sank back into darkness.
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