Chapter 24: The Imperial Palace’s Grand Stage—If You Want to Perform, Step Right Up.

The bright moon hung high, with thin clouds scattered across the sky.

Cui Wangshu ascended the steps of the altar, her sharp ears twitching slightly. She paused, slowly turned her head, and spotted the Yuan Kingdom envoy in the crowd, his eyes filled with panic.

She stared at him fixedly for a moment, then lowered her gaze and continued upward.

“On this fifteenth day of the eighth month, Xinmao, in the sixteenth year of Kaiyuan of Great Zhao, the chief officiant Cui Wangshu dares to announce to the Night-Bright God. On this Mid-Autumn night, at the time of the full moon, we reverently offer pure wine and fine fruits, incense, candles, and mooncakes as sacrifices, presenting a fragrant feast.

“We humbly beseech the exalted god, whose vast light encompasses all, whose pure brilliance shines within and without, whose radiant essence illuminates everywhere, who moistens and nurtures the common people, who governs wind and rain, and harmonizes the seasons.

“We pray that the god’s grace spreads far and wide, blessing Great Zhao with favorable weather, harmonious populace, an eternal rivers and mountains, and prosperity for a thousand autumns!

“With clear wine and humble offerings, we present these sacrifices. We humbly pray that you deign to enjoy them!”

As Cui Wangshu’s words concluded, she bowed and stepped aside. Li Cong inserted the three sticks of incense into the censer after three prostrations.

Cui Wangshu declared, “The rite is complete!”

Specks of firelight floated above the altar—these were Great Zhao’s tradition, long-burning lamps released during the Mid-Autumn sacrifice.

Cui Wangshu watched one lamp drift farther and farther away, toward the Cold Palace.

“Your Majesty, it is time to go to the Taiye Pool.”

Cui Wangshu concealed the emotions in her eyes and suggested softly.

The Mid-Autumn night banquet featured clinking goblets and endless toasts, lasting through the night.

The sounds of silk strings and bamboo flutes filled the air, accompanied by poems and songs, with dancers moving like soaring dragons.

Cui Wangshu sat primly at her seat, her gaze fixed on a familiar figure amid the dancing crowd.

Her willow waist and soft bones were unmatched; her alluring charm captivated souls.

Cui Wangshu raised her eyes and saw Li Cong staring entranced. A cold smile tugged at her lips, well-hidden by her wine cup.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Cheng’en Palace is on fire!”

The anxious voice of a young eunuch shattered the banquet’s harmony. The messenger’s hat was askew, his appearance utterly disheveled.

Cui Wangshu turned her gaze as surprise flashed across Li Cong’s face. He rose hastily. “Where is Chenbi?”

The show had begun—

Cui Wangshu’s expression turned icy cold. The young eunuch knelt trembling on the ground, terrified. “When we discovered it, the flames were already too fierce. We tried our best to extinguish it, but… but we didn’t see anyone escape from the palace.”

Li Cong’s eyes bulged with rage. “Useless fools! Prepare my carriage at once!”

Cui Wangshu rose immediately. “Your Majesty! You absolutely cannot! How can Your Majesty’s dragon body venture into such danger?”

The seated ministers stood and urged him against it—the fire was perilous; how could the Emperor go personally?

Cui Wangshu’s gaze chilled as she glanced lightly at Prince Cheng’s Tutor, Zhang Kewi, nearby.

Her look was tangible, icy cold, damp, and slippery.

Zhang Kewi stiffened momentarily before speaking up. “Your Majesty, the fire is dangerous. It would be better to wait for the guards and eunuchs to extinguish it before going.”

Li Cong fumed. “You! All of you!”

He said coldly, “Where is the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Justice?”

The Vice Minister replied in panic, “This minister is here.”

Li Cong’s tone was frigid. “How could Cheng’en Palace catch fire out of nowhere? What have you all been doing tonight? If you don’t find the cause by tomorrow, I’ll have your heads.”

The Vice Minister paled. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Cui Wangshu watched coldly as Li Cong directed and starred in his own drama, on the verge of a grand outburst.

As one finished his act, I took the stage. Cui Wangshu wanted to see how the Emperor would twist this play onto Chen Quan.

Cheng’en Palace had caught fire, the Emperor was enraged, and the Mid-Autumn banquet ended abruptly. The atmosphere by the Taiye Pool froze to zero.

By the time the fire at Cheng’en Palace was extinguished, Li Cong saw only a charred, curled corpse lifted from the Cold Palace, its features unrecognizable.

Li Cong swayed, as if struck by a devastating blow, on the verge of collapse.

A nearby eunuch rushed to support him. “Your Majesty! Mind your dragon body!”

Li Cong gasped, looking as if he might expire from rage. His eyes rolled back, and he fainted.

The eunuchs hurriedly summoned the imperial physicians.

The ministers were terrified, kneeling outside Yangxin Hall to pray and keep vigil for the Emperor.

Chaos reigned; the Forbidden City was abuzz that night.

Cui Wangshu blended into the crowd of ministers, awaiting the physicians’ diagnosis.

The farce dragged on until the eastern sky paled with dawn.

Cui Wangshu and the other ministers had knelt all night; her knees ached and swelled, numb from thigh to calf, sensation lost.

She lowered her head, touched the hem of her official robes, and suddenly recalled Jiang Chenbi’s words: “Don’t take off your official robes when you return tonight.”

Cui Wangshu chuckled softly. She had known she couldn’t return, yet Jiang Chenbi said those words to unsettle her Dao heart.

As for how the Emperor interrogated upon waking, how the Ministry of Justice uncovered the Yuan Kingdom envoy as an assassin linked to Chen Quan—Cui Wangshu no longer cared.

She was like an detached spectator in the audience, watching them don makeup and perform passionately, then watching them slink away defeated, victors and vanquished alike.

Cui Wangshu numbly played along in scene after scene with the Emperor and the Ministry of Justice.

She watched the ignorant ministers tremble in fear, rise and fall dramatically, then shrug it off indifferently.

She watched those with the script perform with gusto, emotions high, enacting “Chen Quan’s blunder, ministers plead for mercy, exiled to Luozhou.”

Cui Wangshu, knowing the ending, observed coldly from the sidelines.

The setting sun’s glow spilled into Yangxin Hall, enveloping the kneeling Cui Wangshu in its light. She glanced sideways, the dying rays reflected in her eyes.

Cui Wangshu thought, she seemed to miss Jiang Chenbi a little.

Curtains fell.

Cui Wangshu dragged her weary body, feigning devastation alongside Li Cong, and left the Imperial Palace.

If she hadn’t known the ending, this Cui Wangshu would have been the most genuinely distraught among those defending Chen Quan—restless and anxious.

Would she have rejoiced at saving Chen Quan, or blamed the Cui Family for losing an arm?

She didn’t know.

She only knew that from the moment she realized—whether the Emperor’s people, the Empress Dowager’s, or the Cui Family’s—they might all be Jiang Chenbi’s people—she stopped caring.

Compared to that nameless unease, what surged in Cui Wangshu’s heart was more heartache.

Closing her eyes, she recalled the crisscrossing scars on Jiang Chenbi’s back, which she had once kissed tenderly.

Jiang Chenbi had trembled and tried to evade, only to be held down. In the dim moonlight, those scars looked so vicious—likely once deep to the bone.

What price must one pay to bind and control powerful ministers, to seize military power in the Northern Frontier?

Cui Wangshu dared not dwell on it, for she too had paid dearly to control Xiaoyun Pavilion.

The inch-wide scar on her inner thigh still ached faintly on rainy days.

The beauty lay drunk on the bed, her pale, somewhat sickly body wrapped in thin, wide gauze robes. She had kicked off all the covers, her face still flushed.

This was the enchanting scene Cui Wangshu encountered upon returning home.

Her hand, which had reached for her hat brim, paused at the thought of that person’s words. She lightened her steps and approached, a strange emotion welling up inside.

When her gaze fell on those fair, long legs exposed beyond the gown, Cui Wangshu narrowed her eyes.

Kneeling by the bed, Cui Wangshu inexplicably craved a taste of the honey flowing from that spring.

Jiang Chenbi shuddered violently, jolting awake from her dream.

Her eyes met her own pale thighs—and that striking splash of red.

It was Cui Wangshu’s official robe…

Her waist was elevated, thoughtfully padded with a quilt.

Jiang Chenbi squeezed her eyes shut fiercely.

The moment her nose brushed it, she felt as if she had nearly died.

She wanted to touch the woman’s soft hair but grasped only the cold winged hat.

Jiang Chenbi thought, at this moment, she would even die under a peony flower willingly.

Cui Wangshu propped her cheek with one hand, lying sideways beside Jiang Chenbi, staring intently. Her lips glistened, plump and rosy.

Cui Wangshu thought, it wasn’t sweet—it was salty.

Could one feel suffocated without drowning?

Jiang Chenbi was too embarrassed to meet her gaze. She quietly pressed her legs together, pulled the quilt over them, and covered her eyes with her hand.

Her breath was scorching. Cui Wangshu wickedly kissed her lips, pinched her cheeks to force her mouth open, making her taste herself.

Jiang Chenbi struggled fiercely all of a sudden, refusing to let Cui Wangshu’s tongue past her teeth. Yet this woman took advantage of her drunken weakness, refusing to yield.

Jiang Chenbi tasted it—salty.

She stilled, her face redder than the sunset.

Fine, let her just die like this.

She didn’t want to face it.

If she had known her greed for wine would lead to this, two hours earlier, she never would have taken that first cup.

Seeing her lie utterly still like she’d entered nirvana, laughter bubbled from Cui Wangshu’s throat.

Her voice hoarse, she said, “Shy of your own taste?”

Jiang Chenbi’s eyes snapped open, furious with embarrassment. “You!”

But when her gaze fell on Cui Wangshu’s glistening lips, she fell silent.

She turned her head away, ignoring whatever Cui Wangshu said.

Cui Wangshu chuckled, rose to clean her body, wiping away the sweat from her drunkenness as well, leaving her fresh and clean.

Only after finishing did Cui Wangshu leave for the Bath Palace.

Jiang Chenbi perked her ears to the sounds. Hearing the person truly depart, she sat up from the bed.

But before getting off, her eyes fixed on the dried bloodstain on the quilt.

Jiang Chenbi frowned, recalling Cui Wangshu’s footsteps, slower than usual.

She dressed swiftly and headed to the Bath Palace.

The Shangshu Residence posed no barriers to Jiang Chenbi; she could go anywhere. The maids outside the Bath Palace saw her coming and wanted to remind her but held back at her hurried pace.

Never mind—the lady head really likes this madam.

Cui Wangshu faced away from the curtain, pausing as she undressed. Turning, she saw it was Jiang Chenbi and continued.

Jiang Chenbi furrowed her brows, stepped in front of her, and spotted the bloodstain seeping through Cui Wangshu’s undergarments. She moved to squat and remove them, but Cui Wangshu steadily caught her arm.

Looking up, Cui Wangshu’s expression was mildly serene and cool, her eyes holding a smile—with indulgence and silent disapproval.

Cui Wangshu shook her head. “Yangxin Hall’s floor is engraved with dragon patterns. Kneeling long leaves marks; it’s nothing.”

Jiang Chenbi frowned. “He made you kneel?”

It seemed if Cui Wangshu said yes, the next moment she’d storm the palace and drag him from the dragon throne.

Cui Wangshu laughed lightly. “All the ministers knelt. He saw ‘your corpse’ and fainted from shock.”

A cold smile tugged at Jiang Chenbi’s lips. This Li Cong would faint from worry over her?

Jiang Chenbi wanted to say something but held back, saying dryly, “Don’t soak. Let me tend to it.”

Cui Wangshu smiled softly. “It’s just superficial wounds.”

Jiang Chenbi sighed. “Even so, no.”

Cui Wangshu teased, “I was nearly dead in the Imperial Mausoleum before, and Miss Jiang still scorned me. Now a little scrape has you so urgent?”

Jiang Chenbi choked, snorted coldly. “Who cares about you? I just don’t want it affecting your performance.”

Cui Wangshu smiled, not exposing her. “Whether it affects you—didn’t Miss Jiang feel it today?”

Compared to their past wounds, this was nothing. Jiang Chenbi knew she was overreacting from concern. “Fine, fine. Do as you like. Clean up first.”