In the Capital City.
Jiang Ci looked up at the three characters “Shangshu Residence” on the plaque, sighed, and stepped inside. She made her way familiarly to a courtyard, where she spotted Cui Wangshu lounging on a chaise longue at a glance.
Over the past five years, Cui Wangshu had lost a considerable amount of weight. Her features had grown more mature, the lines on her face more pronounced. Her already aloof countenance appeared even sharper. Holding a high position, she exuded an aura of authority without even trying, like an uncarved block of cold ice.
Hearing the footsteps, Cui Wangshu slowly opened her eyes and swept a glance over. Those pitch-black eyes were calm and emotionless, sending chills down one’s spine.
Jiang Ci pursed her lips and said carefully, “Greetings, Your Majesty.”
Cui Wangshu sat up, her face expressionless as she said flatly, “Is everything arranged?”
“I’ve handled the matters related to the Thousand Autumn Festival in Luozhou. When does Your Majesty plan to set out?” Jiang Ci watched her expression cautiously, fearing an outburst.
In recent years, Cui Wangshu’s temperament had grown increasingly unpredictable. She seemed fine when handling state affairs, but whenever anything related to Jiang Chenbi came up, everyone held their breath, terrified of saying the wrong thing.
“We’ll set out tomorrow,” Cui Wangshu said. Then, her gaze dropped to a tiny notch on the armrest of the noble consort chair, and her face darkened.
Jiang Ci had just been about to ask if they would take the usual route from the Capital City to Tongzhou before heading to Luozhou, when she noticed Cui Wangshu’s icy stare fixed on the armrest.
Jiang Ci swallowed her words.
“Someone come,” Cui Wangshu said, staring at the notch, her tone devoid of inflection.
“Your Majesty.” A guard hurried in.
“Replace all the servants responsible for cleaning this courtyard.”
The guard paled. His gaze flicked to the notch she was staring at, and he understood. He replied steadily, “Yes.”
Cui Wangshu turned to Jiang Ci. Those pitch-black eyes were bottomlessly deep as she said, “Still no news at all?”
Jiang Ci lowered her gaze, her expression impeccable. “Not yet. Perhaps the time hasn’t come.”
Cui Wangshu hummed faintly and said indifferently, “Then build a few more divine temples in the Capital City.”
Jiang Ci’s throat bobbed. “Yes.”
Back then, Liu Wuyong had told Cui Wangshu that Jiang Chenbi’s body hadn’t been found—perhaps she had encountered some opportunity, or her soul lingered in the world. With incense offerings and worship over time, her soul might reconvene, allowing her to return from death.
It was such a far-fetched excuse that Jiang Ci hadn’t dared believe it, yet Cui Wangshu had taken it to heart. She had truly built many divine temples in Luozhou and Tongzhou, urging the people to worship there.
Jiang Ci had quietly asked Liu Wuyong if incense worship could really bring the dead back to life. Liu Wuyong had told her that the Life Gu Jiang Chenbi had given Cui Wangshu had shattered, meaning her soul had left her body. Jiang Chenbi wasn’t a cultivator—where would she even get a soul from?
Every day, Jiang Ci had to uphold the lies Liu Wuyong had spun to keep Cui Wangshu alive, all while facing her directly. Jiang Ci didn’t dare imagine what would happen if Cui Wangshu one day learned the truth—that it was all a deception to keep her going…
This woman seemed normal these past few years, but she had gone mad long ago. Ignoring the objections of her ministers, she—as the Empress—had insisted on holding a ghost marriage. Never mind how scandalous it was for an Empress to conduct one; back then, at Yangxin Hall, plenty of people had overheard that Jiang Chenbi was her twin sister.
She stubbornly clung to anything Jiang Chenbi had ever touched, even taking over the management of Yellow Path Palace.
Yet she forbade anyone from mentioning Jiang Chenbi’s name. Jiang Ci couldn’t tell if she loved Jiang Chenbi or hated her.
Cui Wangshu raised her eyes to the tree in the courtyard and said, “You may go.”
Jiang Ci noticed her gazing at the tree again—it was a habit by now. Over these years, aside from occasionally handling memorials or discussing urgent matters, Cui Wangshu always returned to the Shangshu Residence no matter how late, regardless of how busy she was.
The vast Imperial Palace went largely unused; she never set foot in the rear palace and rarely stayed in Yangxin Hall. Most of the ministers were holdovers from before, aware of what had happened, and none dared to advise her.
Five years ago, one minister—a remnant of Li Cong’s faction who already despised Cui Wangshu—had pressured her over the matter of heirs, calling the ghost marriage absurd and marrying one’s own sister unethical. Everyone thought her throne was still unstable and she wouldn’t retaliate.
Instead, she had stepped down from the throne and beheaded him with a sword.
After that, no one dared mention it again. The woman before them was no Li Cong. She held the military power of all Great Zhao in her hands; the throne beneath her had been seized through rebellion.
Once the story spread, even the common folk avoided the words “ghost marriage,” aligning with Cui Wangshu’s intent by claiming it had been an utterly normal wedding.
As if a woman had truly sat in that flower sedan.
Over time, as Cui Wangshu’s rule stabilized and her policies genuinely benefited the people, everyone felt she was still the same Cui Shangshu who had served the public wholeheartedly.
She hadn’t changed the country name—it was still Great Zhao. Under her governance these five years, Great Zhao grew ever stronger, and the people’s lives improved. Who would dwell on the Empress’s private affairs?
Even if the ghost marriage and Twin-Born Daughters were true, what of it? It didn’t affect them. They only knew the Empress had made their lives better, nearly achieving a realm where one could leave doors unlocked at night and not worry about lost items on the road.
Thus, fewer and fewer people mentioned the ghost marriage. Even the worship and Thousand Autumn Festival they had once resisted became a Great Zhao tradition under Cui Wangshu’s lavish rewards.
These days, mention of the Thousand Autumn Festival brought to mind only the Empress’s divine statues and the generous prizes. Worshippers’ faces all beamed with smiles.
But if one wanted to speak of where the divine temples were densest, it was Luozhou.
Every year, countless people flocked there. This year, it was Luo Xiaoxiao’s first time going with her mother. She was endlessly curious about the temples along the way, but her mother only said they were the Empress’s temples and not to speak idly of them.
Luo Xiaoxiao pouted and glanced at a woman at the next table, veiled and exquisitely beautiful.
She had always adored pretty big sisters and was naturally outgoing. She scooted over and asked, “Sister, do you know the story of the Luozhou temples?”
Jiang Chenbi paused mid-sip of tea, her gaze falling on the child. She lowered her eyes and said, “I’m not sure.”
Undeterred by the cool response, Luo Xiaoxiao pressed on enthusiastically, “I know a bit. They’re the Empress’s temples. Back then…”
“Xiaoxiao!” A stern female voice cut off Luo Xiaoxiao’s words.
Her mother grabbed her ear and yanked her back, apologizing to Jiang Chenbi with an embarrassed look, “Sorry about that, miss. My daughter was rude.”
Jiang Chenbi continued sipping her tea and gently shook her head. “It’s fine.”
Along this journey, she had heard countless tales of the Luozhou temples, but everyone seemed to stop short, saying at most that the Empress was very beautiful—and nothing more.
Very beautiful…
Jiang Chenbi lowered her gaze. She remembered Cui Wangshu’s fondness for beautiful things. Much of the rumors about Xiaoyun Pavilion spread by the Cui Family stemmed from Cui Wangshu’s love of beauties.
Now that the Love Gu on her was fully resolved, it was normal for her to take a liking to others.
Jiang Chenbi’s expression remained neutral as she stared into her tea. Suddenly, she felt an urge to drink alcohol.
She was very close to Tongzhou now. Even if she got drunk and delayed a night, it wouldn’t matter. Besides, she’d left in such haste that Ji Yunwei probably hadn’t noticed.
She settled the bill and headed outside in search of a tavern.
After searching for a long time without finding one, Jiang Chenbi frowned. Was alcohol banned here?
“Miss, what are you looking for?” A female voice called out.
Jiang Chenbi turned, and her pupils contracted sharply.
Jiang Ci held a small pot in her hand. The moment she saw those familiar features, her smile froze, her expression turning bizarre. She pointed at Jiang Chenbi in horror. “You—you!”
Jiang Chenbi’s lashes trembled. She forced herself to stay calm, lowering her voice. “Miss, have you mistaken me for someone else?”
Jiang Ci’s throat worked as she stared at the brows and eyes not covered by the veil, her eyes widening.
Too similar. How could there be someone so alike in this world?
Jiang Chenbi gave a slight nod, seemingly confirming that Jiang Ci had mistaken her for someone else. Without pressing the issue, she turned and left.
Only after the figure vanished did Jiang Ci snap out of it. She frantically searched the crowd for Jiang Chenbi, but with people everywhere, where could she find her?
Despair flickered through Jiang Ci’s heart. Was she doomed?
Almost immediately, she turned and left.
Meanwhile, Jiang Chenbi leaned against a wall in an alley, her heart still racing.
Why was Jiang Ci here?
Did that mean Cui Wangshu might be here too?
But she was the Empress—how could she leave the Capital City so easily?
Jiang Chenbi’s mind raced in panic. She didn’t have time to ponder Cui Wangshu’s possible presence. She hurried back to the inn, didn’t even check out, saddled her horse, and galloped toward the city gate.
Fortunately, she was quick. It was late, and the gates were about to close. She made it out just before they shut.
“Bang—”
“What did you say?” The teacup shattered on the floor, splintering into pieces.
Cui Wangshu’s face was ominously dark as she stared deathly at Jiang Ci. Her hands clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms until they bled, but she felt nothing.
Jiang Ci pleaded hurriedly, “I really saw her! But she ran too fast. I swear I didn’t let her go on purpose.”
Cui Wangshu’s chest heaved. She grabbed her sword to rush out, but Jiang Ci blocked her. “Your Majesty, you can’t go out!”
“Out of my way!” Cui Wangshu glared at Jiang Ci, the chill in those black eyes almost tangible. Jiang Ci shuddered.
But she steeled herself. “Even if you go now, how will you find her? If it really was her, she might have already left the city.”
The room’s atmosphere froze solid, cold enough to form ice.
Jiang Ci cautiously lifted her eyes to Cui Wangshu.
The woman’s face was shrouded in the shadows of the candlelight, her gaze fixed on some empty point in space. Those ink-black pupils contracted tightly as she muttered neurotically to herself, “Tongzhou—no, she won’t go to Tongzhou. Southern Frontier—too far…”
Suddenly, she looked up at Jiang Ci, her lips twisting into a sickly smile. “Luozhou. It’s Luozhou. Have your people watch her closely. Don’t let her notice, don’t alarm her—just follow.”
Jiang Ci saw the near-mad glint in her eyes and felt cold sweat trickle down her back. She swallowed and said, “Yes.”
Suddenly, a faint laugh escaped Cui Wangshu’s throat. Jiang Ci’s scalp prickled; she didn’t dare look into the emotions swirling in those eyes.
But what she couldn’t fathom was that Jiang Chenbi was still alive!
Though she hadn’t reacted in time earlier, she would never mistake that face, that aura. She could recognize Jiang Chenbi even turned to ash.
But how had she survived? If she was alive, why hadn’t she come back to Cui Wangshu?
Jiang Ci’s mind filled with questions without answers. The priority now was finding her—if she slipped away again, Cui Wangshu might very well execute her.
