Chapter 26: Withered Wood Meets Spring

Jiang Chenbi stared fixedly at Cui Wangshu, deliberately teasing, “Lord Cui… are you coming back tonight?”

Cui Wangshu’s lips curved up high, as if she was in a great mood. She rose and walked over to Jiang Chenbi, leaning down.

Jiang Chenbi closed her eyes, expecting a soft kiss, but when nothing came, she opened them again. Cui Wangshu was gazing at her with a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Cui Wangshu raised her hand, brushing the back of it across Jiang Chenbi’s cheek before pausing at her chin. Her thumb rubbed forcefully against Jiang Chenbi’s red lips, her voice husky. “Didn’t you say I was too indulgent?”

A laugh bubbled from her throat. Cui Wangshu stared at Jiang Chenbi while licking her thumb—the one that had just rubbed against Jiang Chenbi’s lips.

A faint red mark from Jiang Chenbi’s lip stain lingered on it.

Yet this woman wore an utterly aloof and cold expression while making such an erotic move.

Boom—

Thunder crashed through Jiang Chenbi’s mind. Her breath hitched, and she murmured in a daze, “You—”

“Smack—”

They were very close, and Cui Wangshu had been watching her expression closely. The moment Jiang Chenbi opened her mouth to speak, Cui Wangshu’s kiss landed, cutting her off.

It was a mere touch before she pulled away, as if just to toy with her.

Somehow, this felt even more indecent than a deep kiss.

Seeing Jiang Chenbi frozen in shock, Cui Wangshu watched her with interest for a moment longer before straightening up with a smile. “I’m off, little lady.”

Jiang Chenbi remained stunned in place for a long time, unable to recover.

It wasn’t until Cui Wangshu’s figure had long vanished from the main hall that Jiang Chenbi finally exhaled.

Who had taught Cui Wangshu those moves?

Not only had she kissed her mid-sentence to interrupt her, but she’d also deliberately called her “little lady.” It was too much…

Jiang Chenbi stared blankly at the floor, feeling as if something in her mind had shattered.

What was it?

Cui Wangshu’s image, apparently.

Before, like everyone else, Jiang Chenbi had seen the Cui family’s legitimate daughter, the Minister of Rites Cui Wangshu, as a paragon of grace—aloof and pure.

But in reality, this woman wasn’t some celestial fairy descended to earth. She was a mortal, and a very worldly one at that.

Cui Wangshu had her own desires; she simply disdained the messy people who threw themselves at her. Later, forced to confront Jiang Chenbi because of the Love Gu, those pent-up urges erupted, driving one to ecstasy and agony.

She wasn’t some chaste saint. She appreciated beautiful things, whether scenery or people.

That was why she maliciously teased Jiang Chenbi when she broke down and begged for mercy—just to savor the sight of the beauty pleading.

She had never been some Liu Xiahui. On the contrary, she knew full well that she was just the “insatiable lust beast” the Cui family gossiped about.

Cui Wangshu frowned. “Father, after the Corpse-Eating Rats incident, you purged most of the Emperor’s officials above fifth rank. His demotion of Chen Quan is likely related. In my view, we shouldn’t push our people forward now. Besiege a city without fully surrounding it.“

The court was already dominated by the Empress Dowager’s faction, but the dragon throne still held the Emperor. Push him too far, and who knew what might happen—especially with Prince Cheng’s return to the capital delayed indefinitely and military authority undecided.

Cui Daoyuan said, “But the Vice Minister of Personnel controls promotions…”

Cui Wangshu cut him off. “Father, let them taste victory first, and they’ll expose their weaknesses. I’ve divined it with the chips—this move won’t fail. The Cui family’s pain is only temporary.”

Cui Daoyuan fell silent for a moment, then murmured, “Very well, then.”

He examined his daughter closely. In the past two years, she’d grown swiftly; even he hesitated on matters she handled decisively.

And Cui Daoyuan had always trusted Cui Wangshu’s divination chip skills—he’d specially sought out the world’s top master, Liu Wuyong, to teach her.

Over the years, they’d advanced step by step without a single mistake.

For once, Cui Daoyuan asked if her health had recovered since her return.

Cui Wangshu replied, “Father, rest assured—I’m fully healed.”

Only then did Cui Daoyuan say, “Go keep your mother company. She worries about you often.”

A flicker of softness appeared in Cui Wangshu’s eyes. She went to Liu Yuzhi’s room.

Liu Yuzhi was the legitimate daughter of Rongguo Duke. Back then, Cui Daoyuan must have knelt to beg for her hand, and she had married down.

This was another reason for Cui Wangshu’s noble status—the apple of the Rongguo Duke’s Mansion’s eye, born into privilege.

That year, Liu had a difficult birth. The child died right after coming out, and she lay comatose for days, unaware that Cui Wangshu wasn’t her biological daughter.

Only Cui Daoyuan knew Cui Wangshu’s true origins in the Cui family.

Even Cui Wangshu had learned of the suspicions later, when a midwife who escaped disposal gave her half a jade pe.

At first, she couldn’t accept it. She could tolerate the Cui family’s perverse training, telling herself her father simply had high expectations.

But later, she never saw the same tenderness in her father’s eyes as he showed her mother—only perpetual dissatisfaction.

Gradually, Cui Wangshu went from longing to numbness to bone-deep hatred for Cui Daoyuan.

But Liu Yuzhi’s love was genuine. Cui Wangshu always reserved a soft corner in her heart for her mother.

“Mother!”

Liu Yuzhi turned, her face blooming with a smile. “Shushu’s back.”

Cui Wangshu’s face lit up with a rare, youthful grin. “What are you doing, Mother?”

Liu Yuzhi picked up the embroidery she’d been working on. “Last time you came back, didn’t you say you lost your handkerchief? You never liked ones others embroidered when you were little, so Mother made you a new one. Just two stitches left—see?”

Cui Wangshu’s gaze grew complicated. She tugged at her lips. “Mother, you don’t need to tire yourself like this… I’m not a child anymore.”

Liu Yuzhi’s face stiffened for an instant, then she forced a light tone. “It’s just a handkerchief—no trouble. Let Mother see if you’ve lost weight.”

“Sigh… I told you to add more guards in the residence, but you wouldn’t listen. You suffered this time and got so thin. When I heard you were coming back, I specially stewed your favorite black chicken soup. You loved it as a child—no one else’s tasted right, only mine. Drink plenty later.”

Endless pity, boundless affection.

Cui Wangshu lowered her eyes. “Alright.”

In the entire Cui family, only Liu Yuzhi truly cherished her. As a child, unable to bear watching her endure the family’s training, Liu Yuzhi had even demanded a divorce from Cui Daoyuan.

She’d taken Cui Wangshu back to Rongguo Duke’s Mansion, refusing to let her return no matter how Cui Daoyuan pleaded.

When Rongguo Duke saw his precious granddaughter subjected to such cruelty, leaving his daughter in tears, he naturally held a grudge against Cui Daoyuan.

Somehow, Cui Daoyuan convinced them to return. From then on, Cui Wangshu at least got a full night’s sleep each day—but she rarely saw Liu Yuzhi anymore.

She couldn’t recall how long it lasted, only that it was forever.

Long enough for the courtyard trees to shed leaves season after season, her wounds to heal time and again.

Only then did she see her mother again under that great banyan tree, carrying her favorite black chicken soup, smiling gently.

But Cui Wangshu no longer rushed joyfully into her arms or acted spoiled.

She resented Liu Yuzhi for leaving her alone in this cage-like mansion. She hated Cui Daoyuan for locking her in that room with the Corpse Fragrance Devil Taro year after year.

But in time, she understood—and grew weary.

She no longer had the strength to feel joy or sorrow. All her emotions and energy had been drained in that room planted with the Corpse Fragrance Devil Taro.

She couldn’t muster more strength, nor learn to regenerate it.

Later, she saw Liu Yuzhi’s suddenly aged face and premature white hair.

Cui Wangshu let out a long sigh, her years of resentment and longing dissolving together.

Yet a shattered mirror could not be mended; the rift would always remain.

What sustained her these years was hatred for Cui Daoyuan and the unextinguished sense of justice in her heart.

The justice from books and the suffering of the people she witnessed were the only seeds left in her barren soul.

And on the day Cui Daoyuan made her kneel at the Cui Residence gates for a day and night, she received the world’s most precious sincerity.

The water A Po fed her by hand, the candy from the child—they brought gentle rain to her parched, cracked heart.

Withered wood met spring.

That seed took root and sprouted, becoming a sheltering tree on countless nights when she nearly faltered.

Thus, she craved higher positions, greater power—to truly do something for them.

But she realized all the suffering stemmed from the man on the dragon throne.

Her lifelong education told her: at any cost, no matter how impossible, seize it.

So Cui Wangshu wanted that throne, that dragon chair, the rivers and mountains of Great Zhao.