In the evening, rain began to fall, fine and dense droplets pattering softly against the glazed tiles. The night rain was damp and chilly, carrying a coldness in the air. Qiu Cheng brought Meng Suxin a satin robe embroidered with a hundred bats and trimmed with white fox fur at the cuffs, then lit the charcoal fire, yet it still couldn't dispel the pallor on her face. Qiu Cheng sent someone to the small kitchen to prepare a bowl of ginger soup, which she presented to her, saying, "Your Highness, please drink a little. With such a poor complexion, how will you manage? If His Majesty sees you like this later, he will worry again."
Meng Suxin lowered her head, the soup's hue casting a dim shadow over her expression. She gently massaged her temples with her fingers and murmured, "I heard the Empress died tragically, her skull shattered. Noble Lady Chang had both feet severed, Virtuous Consort Tian lost her hands, and even Princess Jinghe is dead—such a young child, yet her head was severed from her body. Those people are truly ruthless."
Qiu Cheng frowned and said, "Which heartless scoundrel told Your Highness such things? Don't they know you are with child? They ought to be severely punished!"
Meng Suxin replied, "Now that I'm the only one left in the entire palace, if they don't come to tell me, who else would they turn to? Tomorrow, when we go to Chongming Hall for the rituals, I'll have to find out anyway."
Qiu Cheng pulled the blanket up higher for Meng Suxin and said, "Your Highness should think less of these matters. Didn't the imperial physician say that excessive worry has made your pregnancy unstable? You are carrying the imperial heir; even if not for your own sake, you must think of the child in your womb. I dare to speak boldly and irreverently: now that the Empress is gone, Noble Consort Rong is missing, and the other consorts and ladies are either injured or ill—even if Noble Ladies Liang, Hui, and Xian are unharmed, having been imprisoned by the rebels for so long, their reputations are already tarnished, and they can no longer stay in the palace. You are the only legitimate mistress left in the palace. Not to mention your pregnancy, your father and two maternal uncles have rendered great service in suppressing the rebellion. And just considering the affection His Majesty has shown you over the years, there are still many good days ahead. Have you forgotten, Your Highness? When you were a maiden, the monk Huiming of Guyun Temple said you were destined for great fortune. It seems now that your blessings are yet to come."
Meng Suxin gave a faint smile and whispered, "His Majesty has indeed been good to me. If he hadn't secretly arranged for someone to keep me by his side this time, I might not have escaped disaster either."
The night rain fell densely, knocking pear blossoms from the tree in the courtyard. The room was filled with the subtle fragrance of fine incense, serene and tranquil. She lightly traced the arrow pattern on her sleeve and added, "I wonder where Noble Consort Rong has gone. She comes from a military family and has some martial skills—perhaps she truly managed to escape."
"Even if she did escape, what of it? Now that the Guan family has fallen, even if she were to return safely, with her temperament, she would never be tolerated. Besides, when the rebels entered the city, it was chaos—no matter how skilled she is, she's still a vulnerable woman. Where could she possibly flee? If I may say, Your Highness, you are too kind-hearted. Noble Consort Rong was willful and domineering; we've suffered plenty under her these past few years."
Meng Suxin shook her head and said, "She comes from a noble family, the eldest daughter of the main branch—it's natural for her to be somewhat headstrong. Moreover, she never truly bullied me. His Majesty favored her to win over the Guan family."Qiucheng smiled and said, "I don't know about other matters, but I do know that the Emperor favors her only to divert others' attention and protect you, Your Highness. No matter how triumphant she may seem, all these years she has merely been a target. The Emperor's affection for you runs deep, straight to the heart."
Meng Suxin chuckled, about to scold her for her glib tongue, when suddenly the crack of a whip echoed outside the hall. Qiucheng sprang to her feet and said, "The Emperor is here. Let me help you change, Your Highness."
The Emperor entered draped in a bright yellow cloak, its hem damp with rain, carrying a heavy scent of moisture. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes, Meng Suxin knew he had slept poorly again the previous night, and her heart ached with concern. She reached out to gently stroke his face and said softly, "No matter how busy state affairs are, you must take care of yourself. Your eyes are shadowed with exhaustion."
He grasped her slender fingers and asked, "Why are you still awake so late?"
She lifted her gaze, fixed it steadily on him, and smiled faintly. "I missed you, Your Majesty."
The Emperor smiled in return, wrapping his arms around her. "I missed you too."
After sharing a light supper and conversing for a while, they retired to the bedchamber. A young palace maid knelt by the bed curtain, holding an incense burner, preparing to withdraw. But the Emperor suddenly paused and glanced at her. Noticing his strange expression, Meng Suxin quickly asked, "What is Your Majesty looking at?"
Instead of answering her, the Emperor addressed the maid, "You weren't previously from Lotus Assault Palace."
Startled, the maid knelt on the floor and replied, "Your Majesty, I formerly served at Jade Fragrance Hall."
The Emperor watched her silently, his gaze calm, a flicker of sharpness passing through his eyes before he turned away without another word and entered the bedchamber. Meng Suxin bit her lip lightly, dismissed the attendants, and followed him inside. Just then, hurried footsteps sounded outside the door, and Chief Eunuch Changxi urgently called out, "Your Majesty, Consort Rong has returned."
With a rustle, the Emperor flung aside the bed curtain and strode out, his face pale with shock. The lamplight in the room flickered with a warm orange glow, but it cast a chilling, bone-deep coldness over his features, like the penetrating chill of spring rain. His brow furrowed deeply as he asked in a low voice, "Where is she?"
"Right outside the palace gates."
"How... is she?"
Changxi bowed his head. "Her Highness the Consort... she came bearing a blade."
The Emperor fell silent for a moment before saying firmly, "Take her to Jade Fragrance Hall first. Give the order—no one is to harm her."
Changxi stole a glance at Meng Suxin standing behind the Emperor and whispered, "Your Majesty, Consort Rong is with child. The guards dare not approach her for fear of causing injury. She insists on seeing you and refuses to enter the palace."
The Emperor's expression shifted abruptly. "Pregnant?"
Changxi, understanding his question, hurriedly replied, "Yes, her belly is quite large. By the look of it, she is about six months along."
Without another word, the Emperor strode out of the palace gates. Qiucheng rushed forward to support Meng Suxin's hand.
"Let's go and see."
"Your Highness?"
Meng Suxin picked up her cloak and draped it over her shoulders, repeating, "I want to see her."A fierce wind blew against her face, sharp as tiny blades. Hunched over the horse's back, she gripped the reins with all her strength, her flowing hair streaming behind her like seaweed. Her slender frame leaned forward as she urged the horse into a frantic gallop. The night wind was icy, and the vast square lay in dead silence, with only the crisp rhythm of hoofbeats echoing between the four enclosing walls. Ahead, guards hearing the commotion rode forward, drawing their swords and shouting, "Who goes there?"
Guan Shubai flung back her cloak and leaped from the saddle. The violent wind swept her hair aside, revealing a deathly pale face.
The palace guards recognized her instantly and froze in shock. She drew a blade—a heavy war sword that dragged in her hand like a cold, dark iron, glinting ominously under the brilliant palace lanterns. She walked swiftly, though it was unclear where she was injured; a trail of blood followed her footsteps, a horrifying sight.
"Step aside."
She spoke word by word, her voice hoarse and ragged. Her pale wrist held the blade level, its edge sharp as a beast's fang.
"Step aside!"
She repeated in a low tone. The eunuchs, seeing blood gushing from between her legs—an endless flow pooling into a dark, purplish puddle on the ground—trembled with fear. Pleading desperately, one said, "Your Highness, please return to your palace and seek treatment. His Majesty is currently in the Hall of Mental Cultivation discussing state affairs and cannot be disturbed immediately. This servant has already sent word. You must not harm yourself like this."
With a whoosh, a firework bloomed in the night sky, brilliant and colorful, instantly adorning the evening with even more splendor. From within the palace walls came a wave of exclamations, filled with sheer joy, as if the bloodshed and slaughter that had occurred here months before had never happened.
Guan Shubai’s face grew even paler. Tilting her head back, the veins on her pale neck bulged. She took a deep breath and, dragging the sword, headed straight for the Hall of Mental Cultivation. The guards at the door moved to block her, but with a furious cry, she swung the blade, striking one of them. Blood splattered as the man screamed and staggered back. The guards drew their swords in unison to intimidate her, yet she neither dodged nor flinched, charging forward as if her life depended on it. The guards panicked—for five full years, everyone knew the extent of the emperor’s favor toward this imperial consort. Who would dare harm her now, as she advanced with a sword?
Shubai kicked the palace door open and strode inside. Her lower body was drenched in blood; she swayed with every step but still staggered forward, dragging the sword.
Gradually, palace attendants noticed her and rushed over with cries of alarm. Without even looking, she swung the blade, wounding several before they backed away in terror. The quick-witted among them scurried inside to report, the announcement winding through the inner court like a long Mongolian melody. Under the dazzling palace lanterns, arranged like a coiling dragon, everyone gathered, watching this woman in blood-soaked robes dragging a sword. No one uttered another word.
"Consort Guan, by His Majesty’s decree, you are to await his presence in the Cuixin Hall."A large contingent of guards surged forward, a dark mass firmly blocking the path. Guan Shubai halted her steps as the night wind swept over her, lifting the blood-stained hem of her skirt like a white silk flower splashed with cinnabar. She glared coldly at the crowd and spat out a single icy word: "Scram!"
The guard captain stepped forward, bowing respectfully. "Your Highness, please do not make this difficult for your humble servant."
"Scram!"
Enraged, Guan Shubai raised her knife and charged forward. The guard captain frowned, blocking her strike with his sheathed blade. Shubai had only practiced some basic self-defense moves—how could she compare to these battle-hardened soldiers? The impact jarred her palm, and she staggered, nearly collapsing to the ground. Undeterred, she tried to bypass him, but other soldiers stepped in, blocking her path with clubs.
The captain said sternly, "Your Highness, if you defy the imperial decree, your humble servant will have no choice but to be discourteous."
Gritting her teeth, Guan Shubai charged forward as if deaf to his words. A cold glint flashed in the captain's eyes as he swung his sheathed blade at her leg. A sharp crack echoed, and Shubai stumbled to her knees. Her lower body was already bleeding profusely, and this blow only worsened her condition. Yet she still clutched the knife, struggling desperately to rise.
"Commander Meng, His Majesty has ordered no harm to be done!"
A eunuch cried out in alarm upon seeing Guan Shubai injured. Commander Meng frowned slightly, recalling his younger sister's years of endurance and the future honor or disgrace of the Meng family. A shadow of darkness flickered in his eyes as he said gravely, "Noble Consort Rong has defied the imperial decree, brandishing a knife to storm the palace. As the commander of the imperial guards, I have no choice but to offend."
Guan Shubai remained silent, her teeth clenched tightly, her neck stubbornly stiff as she stared fixedly at the resplendent palace ahead, as if trapped in a nightmare, utterly oblivious to the commotion around her.
"Escort Noble Consort back to her palace."
Guards stepped forward to seize Guan Shubai. She struggled fiercely, slashing wildly with her knife. Growing impatient, the soldiers pinned her down forcefully, pressing her pale cheek against the filthy ground. Her eyes bloodshot, Shubai kicked her legs wildly, the area between them stained dark purple. Commander Meng gave a meaningful glance, and the guards dragged her toward Cuixin Palace.
"Let me go!"
Dragged by her arms like a dead dog, Guan Shubai fought back with unyielding, almost maddened determination. The dazzling lights before her eyes blazed so brightly they seemed to sear her vision. What had they said? The Emperor, wise and mighty, had long anticipated the disloyalty of the three feudatories. Under the guise of a hunting expedition, he had secretly mobilized troops, eliminating Gu Jin'an and the three southwestern feudatory kings in one fell swoop. She had narrowly escaped the capital, fleeing into the mountains under Gu Jin'an's pursuit. For three months, she trekked over hills and valleys to reach Yingtai, only to find the camp deserted and the military tally in her hands a forgery.
And just as she struggled back to the capital, she learned that her maternal clan—her father, who had fought for Great Yan his entire life—had been accused of colluding with the enemy and slaughtered to the last member!
Three days later would be the coronation ceremony of the Empress!
Guan Shubai, you fool! Did you truly think he loved you? Open your eyes and see—who is it that sits by his side now?
Who is it that sits by his side now?Who? Who is it? His Empress? But the Empress is dead, isn't she? She died right before her eyes, smashing her head against a pillar, a clean and swift death. So who could it be? Who is his Empress?
Her heart felt as if it were being gnawed by millions of ants, such agony, such despair, that she wished she could carve it out and discard it—anything to escape this torment akin to being sliced to death!
Everything before her suddenly blurred, and in that haze, she recalled that day again. He stood in the square, a vast expanse of darkness behind him, holding her hand as he said to her, "Xiao Bai, in this world, you're all I have."
He said he had only her.
Yes, he had only her, and she had only him. They had promised to face everything together—danger, hardship, adversity, and despair. They vowed never to betray or abandon each other. She had fled a thousand miles, surviving countless near-death experiences, all for the chance to see him once more and stay by his side until the end. Had she done something wrong? Was there some misunderstanding between them? Where had things gone awry?
If not, if all of this was real, then who was standing by his side at this very moment within that resplendent palace?
Who was it?!
Her limbs grew numb, stiffening as if she had turned into a statue. The metallic taste of blood filled her throat, her eyes bloodshot, her voice choked and strained as if stuffed with lead. Finally, with a shattered, beast-like roar—so desperate, so piercing—she screamed, "Yan Lin! Come out here!"
That single cry stunned everyone. Blood sprayed from her mouth, as if that shout had drained every ounce of her strength. She stared fixedly at the palace gates, her dark hair whipping wildly in the wind. With every breath, blood-flecked foam escaped her lips, her face pale as a ghost's.
"Let her go."
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