Chapter 69: The Sickly Prime Minister, Poisoned to Death by Her Beloved

The summer rains in Jiangnan that year were exceptionally heavy and frequent. Xiao Jinse had vanished from public view after the assassination attempt left her injured, but behind the scenes, she hadn’t slacked off in the slightest. On one hand, she decisively manipulated the Jiangnan officialdom with thunderous efficiency; on the other, she found time to laze around Shi Qingyi’s place under the pretext of her injury.

The relentless downpours concealed so much. In the small towns of Jiangnan, there were no schemes or machinations, no one forced against their will. Casting aside their statuses and stubbornness, the Eldest Princess and the Prime Minister indulged in their frightening antics—often not retiring until dawn and rising only in the evening.

Xinyi had gone from worrying in the afternoons when she didn’t see her own Prime Minister, fearing the Eldest Princess might have killed her in a fit of pique, to impassively accepting that they had simply overslept again.

The calico cat from the neighbor auntie’s house occasionally hopped over the wall. Xiao Jinse, clad in white robes that made her appear exceptionally frail, sat in the courtyard flipping through a scroll of documents. When she spotted the cat, her gaze deepened slightly, and the hidden guards on the eaves understood. They swiftly scooped up the cat, returned it home, and tossed in a pile of dried fish as a bonus.

—A polite request for it not to come back.

By the time the Eldest Princess emerged at the sound of the meowing, she caught only the sight of Prime Minister Xiao’s eyes curved in a faint smile. “Your Highness, why did you come out? Didn’t you say you were sleepy and wanted to rest a bit longer?”

She spoke with such practiced ease, her face unflushed and her heart steady. Shi Qingyi pinched the bridge of her nose. “I said, don’t call me that randomly.”

In a small place like this, if someone overheard, she’d have to move early.

The Prime Minister blinked in mild surprise, then smiled warmly and complied. “Mm, Qingyi.”

She couldn’t call her “Your Highness,” so calling her by name worked, right?

The days passed leisurely enough. When the final heavy rain of Jiangnan finally tapered off, this protracted struggle drew to a close as well. The sword wound on Xiao Jinse’s shoulder blade had mostly healed after a month of recovery.

In the beginning, when she was badly hurt, she couldn’t even undress herself. She’d lean there, coughing one after another, then gaze pleadingly at Shi Qingyi. “Your Highness, my arms have no strength. Help me change my clothes?”

Shi Qingyi: “…”

She always suspected Xiao Jinse was doing it on purpose.

Yet she still indulged her every time.

The Jiangnan aristocratic clans offered up everything they’d hoarded for nearly a century, pledging loyalty to Xiao Jinse in exchange for a path to survival. After leaving them to stew for two days, the Prime Minister had no choice but to return and take charge of the situation. It rained heavily the day she left. Shi Qingyi sat at the small table, sipping a bowl of sweet congee, a bite mark visible on her neck.

She had asked the Eldest Princess if she would come with her. The woman across from her merely lifted her eyes slightly, her gaze as still as an ancient well. “What nonsense is the Prime Minister spouting? Shouldn’t the Eldest Princess still be in Zhao Prison at this moment?”

Some things didn’t need to be spelled out—she knew full well. Her Highness cherished freedom, had always yearned for a life of idle clouds and wild cranes. Yet Xiao Jinse still believed she could make her stay.

But some people were simply not destined to linger in one place for long. She had to see every mountain, river, and sea—just as they had dreamed in their youth.

Back then, the Prime Minister, who had lived under others’ roofs like a mere ant, craved the pinnacle of worldly power. The Eldest Princess, born into utmost nobility, only wished to roam free and unfettered.

She had said the world was so vast; it would be a pity to be trapped in a gilded cage.

What had Xiao Jinse been thinking at the time?

She could scarcely remember anymore. They had been young then, and their vows of eternal love hadn’t even had a chance to form.

To fulfill her wishes or to cling tightly—she had agonized over it for two lifetimes and still hadn’t found an answer.

In the end, she left alone. She didn’t dare look back on departure, so she never saw how long the Eldest Princess watched her from behind.

When Xiao Jinse’s carriage arrived at the Jiangnan official residence, someone delivered a bundle containing deer hooves. Xinyi, terrified of poisoning attempts, consulted countless physicians, who found nothing amiss. In fact, one kindly explained that deer hooves cured chills, rheumatism, and soreness in the limbs and back—greatly beneficial for the Prime Minister’s health.

And so, they were properly delivered into Xiao Jinse’s hands.

It turned out the Eldest Princess’s purposeless hunting trip to Qing Province the previous year hadn’t been without reason.

Xinyi sincerely praised the Eldest Princess’s thoughtfulness to her own Prime Minister, whispering that she was just thin-skinned.

She wouldn’t give them while Xiao Jinse was there, but sent them after she left.

Thus, the Prime Minister’s mood remained excellent for days, and even her executions were carried out with crisp efficiency.

This southern inspection tour could be deemed a resounding success. In just a few short months, half of Jiangnan’s officialdom had been replaced—a river of blood. Xiao Jinse’s methods against corrupt officials grew ever more ruthless. Occasionally, Xinyi would furrow her brow at the sight, harboring some doubts.

The Prime Minister had always been cold-hearted and ruthless before, but compared to now, it was nothing.

Xiao Jinse offered no explanations, merely standing with hands clasped behind her back, gazing at the bright moon outside the window, her expression inscrutable.

After all, having lived those extra years, her mindset had changed upon returning. She often dreamed of the day Shi Qingyi died—blood splattering everywhere, warm droplets hitting her body, her face, even her eyes—

She had wanted everything to go as her Highness wished, but in the end, it hadn’t worked. She had been willing to die by her hand, yet the outcome was still so unsatisfying. Every path she took was wrong. Perhaps, as she had wished in her youth, she needed to stand at the pinnacle of power to protect the one she loved.

So, what she had now wasn’t enough. Far from it.

Under the moonlight, the woman’s eyes darkened with gloom, laced with a chilling edge sharp as a blade. It sent a shiver down Xinyi’s spine.

The Prime Minister wore two faces: one before others, another before the Eldest Princess. Xinyi felt this deeply.

When the first autumn winds blew, Xiao Jinse—this plague of a Prime Minister—finally returned to the Capital City amid the tearful pleas of Jiangnan officials begging grandfather and grandmother alike. Meanwhile, a black-awninged boat drifted far away on the river.

The Ba River could be exhausted, but the blue sky knew no end.

In a thousand li of Jiangling, ape cries echoed from both shores.

A woman in a pale green skirt sat at the bow, gazing at the scenery along the banks. She had long heard of the perilous Ba Mountains and wanted to see them since childhood, but had always been confined to one corner. Now that the opportunity arose, of course she had to go.

The System accompanied her on the journey through mountains and rivers, sighing. “You’re quite leisurely.”

“Otherwise?” The woman lifted her eyes slightly. The green bamboos and verdant reflections in the river paled beside her strikingly radiant beauty.

The hidden guards on the shore trailed the black-awninged boat stealthily, scratching their heads in frustration. So far away—they had no idea what the Eldest Princess was saying. How to report to the Prime Minister?

After deliberating for a quarter-hour, the boat entered a treacherous river stretch. When it emerged, there was no one aboard.

The free-spirited Eldest Princess vanished into thin air, leaving only an empty boat adrift in the river’s heart.

When the Prime Minister heard the news, she snapped the wolf-hair brush in her hand. She remained silent for a long while.

She had anticipated this when letting her go—it was an expected mishap. Yet hatred still surged. She truly wanted to leave, without a thought of staying.

The ever-calculating Chancellor Xiao suddenly felt a twinge of panic. She feared this time she might truly err, ending up with nothing. But she couldn’t falter. She absolutely could not let her efforts go to waste.

Another spring passed into autumn in the blink of an eye, and New Year’s came around again. The fish in the Ba River were delicious—steamed or spiced both worked. Perhaps it was the local waters that shaped the people; they were warm-hearted. As the New Year approached, they bustled about preparing goods in droves. With the wars ceased, the common folk’s lives had improved greatly these past years.

Shi Qingyi wasn’t familiar with such things. Her acquaintance, an elder sister, took her shopping. Others prepared ample shares, but she alone seemed pathetically sparse and lonely. The elder sister’s husband was the village schoolteacher. When idle, Shi Qingyi would use sticks to teach the children.

In such remote backwaters, literate folk were rare. The scholar brother greeted her like kin, eagerly discussing learning. Though the Eldest Princess had been a poor student in youth—fishing three days, drying nets two—she had been taught by renowned masters. Her insights were unique and profound, earning the scholar’s great admiration.

Over shared woes, he inevitably praised the current Prime Minister, Xiao Jinse, to the skies: a paragon of literati, a once-in-a-millennium genius. “What do they mean by heroines outshining men? That’s it. And she’s diligent, caring for the people—reduced taxes in Yizhou this year too.”

The brother had placed in the imperial exams as a youth but was squeezed out by great clans, returning disheartened to open a private school. Now, with Chancellor Xiao purging corruption, he regained hope of reentering officialdom.

In the end, drunk and sighing, he said, “Sister, don’t be so lovesick. If your husband is gone, find another! Alas, with your looks, which man here is worthy? I think—I think only someone like Chancellor Xiao, a dragon among men, could match you!”

Shi Qingyi’s lips twitched; she nearly broke character.

She was beautiful; matchmakers had worn down her door when she first arrived. Helplessly, she fabricated a widow’s identity—husband freshly deceased, no intent to remarry—breaking many hearts.

As the New Year arrived, Shi Qingyi packed her bundle to leave. The elder sister and brother had been kind, but this wasn’t her home.

Approaching New Year’s Eve, the roads to the Capital City bustled with people rushing home: merchants, laborers, families dragging kin along.

Perhaps because she had no airs, she blended with anyone. A rouge seller, delayed by a cold, traveled with her for a stretch.

Jade Shadow was swift; they reached the Capital Region in two days. Snow began falling as the Capital City neared.

The rouge seller dismounted with endless thanks. In her little village, her parents and blind brother awaited early. Life was hard; her mother bundled patched thick clothes around her.

The girl asked if she wanted to stay and rest. Shi Qingyi glanced at the harmonious family, shook her head, and spurred her horse into the wind and snow.

—Everyone had someone waiting at home. She did not.

The world was vast, and she wandered alone.

She recalled her departure: the brother and sister fretting over a frail woman like her without support, eager to find her a upright man. She had refused.

If word reached Xiao Jinse’s ears, it would spell tragedy. She might charge over sword in hand—no one could stop her in a frenzy. Thinking this, Shi Qingyi couldn’t help but chuckle.

She arrived at the Imperial City on the twenty-ninth of the twelfth month, one day before New Year’s Eve. Most inns had shuttered; she knocked on four or five before one answered.

Covered in snow and travel dust, she returned—yet had nowhere to go. The Eldest Princess Shi Qingyi had long vanished somewhere; it was a secret. All that remained was a pitiful soul without kin.

Her only “family” was the emperor high on his throne, but he had no care to save her—only to use her. Once valueless, he would kill the chicken to scare the monkeys.

How fortunes turned. All a joke.

She tossed and turned, sleepless. The inn bed was damp and cold, the brazier useless. But it was New Year’s Eve; she couldn’t disturb others. And there was more keeping her eyes open.

Late at night, fireworks lit the city moat, illuminating half the Imperial City. Children clustered to play, their noise banishing sleep. Curfew loosened; nothing wrong with backyard fun.

Unable to sleep, Shi Qingyi pushed open the window amid the flurry. Outside, snow blanketed everything; the persimmon tree by the inn snapped under the weight. In the vast white expanse, someone stood silently.

In the whirling snow, white flakes blanketed her hair, as she gazed distantly toward Shi Qingyi.

That empty heart suddenly found its place, settling deeply.

So, someone was waiting for her.

Xiao Jinse, in a snow-white cloak nearly blending with the flakes, had been waiting for an impossible possibility.

The window opened. She tugged at her frozen-stiff lips, smiling at Shi Qingyi.