Chapter 75: The Sickly Prime Minister Poisoned to Death by Her Beloved

The sunset rolled into the valley from one side of the mountains, and the brilliant orange-red evening glow across the sky gradually dimmed as the sun sank in the west. Beyond the Imperial City, corpses littered the ground; stepping forward caused blood to seep into one’s long boots. Severed limbs were everywhere.

This slaughter had been far more brutal than anyone had anticipated. No one knew why Gu Ciyan’s initial force of ten thousand elite cavalry had swelled several times over. If things had gone as expected, Xiao Jinse would have been hunted down and exterminated.

“Fortunately, the Prime Minister had the foresight to prepare.” Jiang Changche dragged the blood-soaked Gu Ciyan over through the bloodied ground. The woman looked dispirited, her face covered in a despair that chilled the heart.

“Prime Minister—” The burly general, all brawn and little brains, happily rushed over with his prize to claim credit. But before he could speak, Xinyi kicked him.

He didn’t dare retaliate. Even a fierce warrior like him could only grimace at the girl in pain, not daring to say another word.

Atop the mountain, where the blood hadn’t reached, sat the desolate figure of a woman. She wasn’t wearing her official robes, just a simple cyan robe, her waterfall-like long hair disheveled by the summer night breeze.

She sat there, with tens of thousands of soldiers at her feet, arrayed outside the city. The mountains and rivers for thousands of li were hers for the taking with a flip of her hand.

She gazed quietly at the tightly shut city gates for a long while before finally uttering, “Wait a little longer…”

Xiao Jinse was indeed disloyal to the extreme, just as the Little Emperor had said.

From the day she rose to power, she had begun raising private troops—a crime punishable by the extermination of her entire clan under the Emperor’s feet. Unfortunately, the Emperor no longer had the chance.

She truly deserved the description of being meticulous; her schemes over the years had been flawless. In the end, the Little Emperor was no match for her.

During those days in the Prime Minister’s Mansion, she had been waiting—for the Princess to choose between her and the Little Emperor. When the moment came, it felt like an illusion. The Princess had deceived her too many times, making her unable to trust from the bottom of her heart.

Only later did she realize that the Princess truly didn’t want to protect the Little Emperor. Her Princess had grown up; she no longer dreamed of wandering the world carefree as she had in her youth. What she wanted was this land, the fertile soil of the Nine Provinces.

People always grew greedier, wanting to be the only one, the most important.

At the beginning, she had only wanted the Princess to see her, to accompany her, not to hate her or treat her as an enemy. Ideally, to hold her.

Xiao Jinse sat in the wind, gazing distantly at the city gates. The Little Emperor’s intentions were so easy to guess: a choice between two. Would the Princess choose her?

Between the throne and her, only one could be picked—that was the final decision in this struggle.

The emaciated figure sat amid the mountain winds, the hem of her blue robe lifted by the long gusts. The sounds of slaughter gradually ceased, the sun slowly set, yet the city gates remained shut. No one emerged.

She waited here for an impossible possibility.

The general couldn’t understand the oppressive atmosphere around him. The blood had ignited his warrior’s bloodlust; his hand itched on his saber. As dusk deepened, he grew anxious.

“Prime Minister, why hesitate? The opportunity won’t come again! Just give the order, and this general will lead the troops to breach the gates. Then, what beauty couldn’t you have?”

Why insist on hanging from a crooked tree?

He thought silently. Once we take the city, the Eldest Princess will be a princess of a fallen kingdom, to be bullied at will.

After a long time, when everyone thought there would be no answer, the figure ahead slowly raised her hand. Her slender, frail hand extended from the wide sleeve like a withered branch in the cold moonlight, trembling faintly with every inch.

With a single word from her, what couldn’t she obtain? Breaching the Imperial City would give her the land and her beloved—having it all.

She wanted to say that word, but her lips trembled. Perhaps the mountain wind was too fierce; she couldn’t utter it. Her hand remained raised high overhead.

“Kill—”

“Prime Minister, look!” That faint syllable was drowned out the instant it escaped by another voice. Xinyi rushed over, her cry enveloped in immense joy, nearly breaking.

“Miss, look—it’s—it’s—”

The cold moonlight stretched for a thousand li. The tightly shut city gates swung wide open. A rider on a frost-white steed charged through, shattering the blood and moonlight on the ground, racing toward her.

It was Jade Shadow, the one she had gifted to the Princess. The woman on horseback was covered in blood and wounds, charging toward her without regard for anything.

That night, with clear winds and a bright moon hanging full in the fifteenth sky, Xiao Jinse suddenly felt her empty heart filled to bursting after so many years. She nearly sprang up to rush toward her.

And she did. Stumbling recklessly down the mountain, her long-ill legs gave out. She stood only to fall; Xinyi supported her. She fell again, crawled up—she wanted to get closer, even closer—

The next fall landed her in an embrace. The blood-soaked figure held her, arms trembling, but the hold was warm. Scorching liquid splashed her face.

Shi Qingyi’s hands shook as she touched her body over and over—from the back of her head to her spine, waist, and legs—mumbling her name incoherently.

“Jinse, Jinse… Are you alright? Hurt anywhere…?”

Something lodged in Xiao Jinse’s throat; she couldn’t speak. She just hoarsely, tremulously clung to the person in her arms. Despite her frailty, her strength nearly fused them into one, shaking her head relentlessly until she could only shakily call her name.

“Qingyi…”

Tears poured from her eyes in a rush.

That night, it was Shi Qingyi who carried her onto the horse. Her arm bore a knife wound not yet bandaged; it split open while holding Xiao Jinse, blood gushing freely. Xiao Jinse pressed the wound, her salty tears flowing nonstop.

Later, they returned to the Prime Minister’s Mansion; neither wanted to go to the Imperial Palace. They summoned a doctor. The blood had congealed and scabbed, dirt embedded inside—it needed cleaning first.

Xiao Jinse personally cleaned the wound with warm water. The knife slash on her arm was three inches long, from wrist to upper arm. Once the blood was cleared, the gruesome flesh beneath was revealed. Xiao Jinse’s hands shook uncontrollably, tears streaming.

Her hands trembled, but Shi Qingyi endured the pain without complaint, letting her bandage it. Finally, with her one good arm, she pulled her into an embrace, awkwardly kissing her swollen, red eyes, tasting the salty tears.

“Jinse, don’t be afraid.”

The proud, tsundere Eldest Princess surrendered completely to such tears.

Xiao Jinse, so resilient, seemed to pour out decades of grievances that day. Her tears wouldn’t stop, forcing the injured Shi Qingyi to endure agony while coaxing her.

“I should have come to save you sooner. Shi Ji went mad blocking me, refusing to let me leave the palace—that’s why I was delayed. I didn’t abandon you.” She leaned down, kissing her eyelids densely, her voice laced with relief from surviving the ordeal.

“I’m glad you’re safe. Don’t be sad—it’s my fault. I came late; I made you worry and fear.”

The Eldest Princess seemed to sigh softly, murmuring in her ear, “I told you I’d always be with you.”

No matter the time.

Xiao Jinse couldn’t speak; something weighed on her throat. Shi Qingyi passed water to her lips, feeding her sip by sip. Only after a long time could she open her mouth, tears falling with her words.

“Princess, does it hurt?”

She cradled Shi Qingyi’s arm, managing only that hoarse question.

Shi Qingyi was stunned for a while, then slowly relaxed in relief, her tense shoulders easing. She rested her head on Xiao Jinse’s shoulder, her voice gentle and pleasant.

Her one remaining good hand lightly stroked her back, again and again, soothing the near-collapse.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. It hasn’t for a while, Jinse. Don’t cry, or your eyes will hurt.”

But such a deep gash—how could it not hurt? She was just comforting her, afraid she’d feel worse.

A gash tore open in Xiao Jinse’s heart, countless winds howling through, all carrying Shi Qingyi’s voice.

That night, Shi Qingyi, utterly exhausted, fell asleep unusually early. Xiao Jinse, like a startled bird, lay beside her unable to sleep. She buried her face in her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Once she was asleep, she traced her brows and eyes, murmuring to herself.

“Princess, I thought if you didn’t come out, I’d go in to find you—and make you pay. Actually, when I let you leave back then, I thought the same. I let you go so you’d return on your own. But what if you never wanted to come back?”

She pressed against Shi Qingyi’s heart, as if asking her past self through time: “Then of course I’d drag you back.”

She answered herself.

Her voice was bone-chillingly cold, yet inexplicably tender and innocent.

“Then I’d build a dungeon in the Imperial Palace to lock you in—no clothes, no food. Every day, you’d wait and long for me, completely dependent on me, unable to live without me.”

Only in the darkness did she dare voice these sinister thoughts, pathological and obsessive: “I’d chain your hands and feet with Profound Iron Chains, swallow the key. You’d only escape if I died and it was cut from my belly.”

“I’d keep you from the sun forever, my personal forbidden prize. To see the sky, you’d beg me. I’d pamper you daily, nourish you. When I die, you’d be buried with me; we’d share a tomb. Then I’d have a Daoist bind your soul, never letting you go for eternity.”

Even saying such terrifying things, her tone was gentle, softly kissing Shi Qingyi’s chest and collarbone. Feeling the heartbeat muffled through clothes, she tugged them aside to kiss directly.

While kissing, she tugged a smile: “Fortunately, you came back.”

Good. I don’t have to imagine those hate-filled extremes where everything is destroyed.

The Princess was back, so these thoughts went back into the dark corners of her heart, sealed tight. She remained the devoted, sickly Jinse before the Princess—needing constant coaxing and cherishing.

The System’s electronic voice fluctuated, twitching slightly: “She’s really so twisted…”

Shi Qingyi agreed: “Mm, indeed.”

The System paused a second: “What if she knew you know everything…?”

Shi Qingyi lowered her eyes: “She will know.”

System: “???”

Shi Qingyi ignored it, pulling the quilt up. Having vented her twisted thoughts, the madwoman had tired herself to sleep.

Outside the window, sunlight was faint, dawn glow spreading. Shi Qingyi twitched her fingers, directing the System: Go close the window—don’t let the sun disturb her sleep.

System: “…”

Tool confirmed.

System: “What about the male lead?”

Shi Qingyi offered her only good arm as a pillow for the tear-exhausted woman. Hearing this, she said coldly: “Do you think Xiao Jinse really came just to toy with me?”

She had raised tens of thousands of troops, encircling the entire Imperial City. No matter where the Little Emperor tried to break out, it was just catching a turtle in a jar.

The System fell silent again: “Actually, I just wanted to ask how the male lead survives.”

No need to keep beating around the bush praising her!

With Xiao Jinse being so twisted, it genuinely worried for the male lead.

“She raised her hand like that. Even if I didn’t know, she’d feel guilty toward me forever—not to mention that I do know.”

While Shi Qingyi bathed in blood fighting for her, she had let malice erupt from her heart, harboring the vilest thoughts—to utterly destroy her in her grasp.