Chapter 75

A smile lingered on Chu Shao’s face, the detached expression of an outsider observing everything playing out on stage.

She watched as Rong Lian drew her sword and fought a bloody battle against the experts of the Empress’s palace.

Heavy, dull blades hacked into her body.

Logically, this was merely a play. The actress playing the part naturally felt no pain. But the bronze rings embedded in the blade’s edge clashed coldly against the blue robes splattered with red.

In a trance, Xiao Jin could no longer distinguish whether it was real blood or stage props.

No one called for a halt.

So the play continued.

The Empress sat in her high seat, watching Rong Lian pinned down by a multitude of weapons, and sighed. “That day when Shen Lang came seeking you, and you remembered who you were, you probably recovered about thirty percent of your martial strength.”

“Such a pity. Most of the meridians throughout your body are severed. With only that thirty percent, you cannot escape my grasp.”

Rong Lian was pressed down, her spine bending under the heavy weapons. A trickle of blood seeped from her lips.

Perhaps Xiao Jin was seeing things, but within the Empress’s eyes, there seemed to be a hidden trace of… pity.

“Shen Ronglian, you should actually hate Shen Lang. If he hadn’t insisted on coming for you, how would you have remembered your former identity? How would you have learned that between you and the Imperial Preceptor lay such a deep history of hatred?”

The silver-blue petals on Rong Lian’s shoulder were splattered with blood.

At this moment, no one knew what the dan actress was thinking. Nor would anyone ever know what the real Rong Lian had been thinking back then.

On stage, Rong Lian’s face was covered in bloody filth, like jade rolled in mud.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, her voice was slow yet steady. “I hate no one.”

“Is that so?”

“Although you hate no one, the vengeful spirits of Shen Manor hate you to the bone.”

Rong Lian’s body trembled slightly. More and more blood welled up at the corner of her lips.

The Empress smiled brightly. “And haven’t you considered another point? The Imperial Preceptor you could never bring yourself to kill… she is the most venomous treacherous minister of Yao. The entire Reed Pavilion is her claw and fang.”

“Do you think she didn’t know who you were?”

“So, she knew all along. She knew exactly who you were.”

The Empress leaned close to Rong Lian’s ear and whispered softly, “Yet in the end, she still personally delivered you into the Glazed Palace.”

A long, prolonged silence.

Rong Lian said, “In the past, I stabbed her with my sword. Towards me, she should be so.”

The Empress couldn’t help but smile. “Indeed, who in Great Yao doesn’t know? The Imperial Preceptor Nan Jin has always sought vengeance for the slightest grievance. She is certainly no kind soul.”

“Rong Lian, you say she should be so. Then what of you? After recovering your memory and thirty percent of your martial arts, shouldn’t you, by all reason and emotion, have killed her?”

Rong Lian didn’t answer.

At this point, it seemed the spoken lines for the two were exhausted.

On stage, the Empress reached out and grasped Rong Lian’s bloodstained chin.

She opened the brocade box, picked up the fragrance pill containing the Gu worm. With an extremely slow, gentle motion, she softly pressed it between Rong Lian’s teeth.

If one stood close enough, they might even notice the Empress’s hand was trembling.

Behind the screen hid Su Tan, her face deathly pale.

The young Imperial Physician Su stared fixedly at Rong Lian.

She watched helplessly as that woman of peerless beauty ingested the Gu poison, collapsed on the ground retching, vomiting mouthful after mouthful of blood.

Imperial Physician Su spread her hands. Her own palms were still pristine white.

Yet they seemed stained with blood too.

…

Xiao Jin knew she should probably stop this play right here.

But she still wanted to clarify some old matters. So she didn’t call for a halt.

On a clear day, the spring blossoms were especially beautiful.

The figure in blood-red staggered through clusters of vibrant flowers, returning to the Glazed Palace.

The distance from one end of the stage to the other was actually not far. The candlelight dimmed. Everything was about to be revealed.

At this point in the play, Xiao Jin actually already knew the ending.

She had previously flipped through that book, which recorded the toxicity of the Endless Sorrow Gu.

The so-called Endless Sorrow: the Gu worm often hid within the throat.

Its poison had three stages.

The first stage aimed to control the mind, turning the victim into the user’s puppet.

In the second stage, the Gu worm devoured flesh and blood, causing the victim to suffer the agony of ten thousand worms gnawing at the heart every night.

The third stage could turn a beautiful face into white bones, and dark hair into silver-white.

There, eternal sorrow would be severed forever.

Thus it was named Endless Sorrow.

Thinking of the Endless Sorrow Gu, the scene of Su Tan examining a corpse in the dark chamber surfaced in Xiao Jin’s mind.

When she had spoken of the Endless Sorrow Gu, Su Tan’s reaction had been very strange.

Su Tan’s skin was naturally pale. Upon hearing those words, even illuminated by the candle shadows in the dark chamber, her face had become even whiter.

At this very moment, a possibility surfaced in Xiao Jin’s mind.

Although the Endless Sorrow Gu was a poison jointly developed by Su Tan and Baili Dan, Su Tan was only responsible for creating the poison. She probably hadn’t created an antidote, and thus couldn’t use medicine to save Rong Lian.

In any case, Rong Lian would die in torment. This was a fact already foreseeable.

The scene presented by the sung lyrics showed Rong Lian dragging her blood-soaked robes, stepping into the Glazed Palace. Leaning against a vermillion pillar, she collapsed to the ground.

Her leg pressed against the translucent floor. Who knew if it would smear a bright trail of crimson.

Rong Lian knew her daughter was in the courtyard, practicing the flute.

Playing Everlasting Longing.

Rong Lian raised her sleeve and wiped the blood from her face.

But the Princess Shao in the courtyard set down her flute and came to her side.

Princess Shao’s eyes were clear and darkly bright, sparkling with a hint of curiosity. She stretched out her small hand and stroked the bloodstains blooming on Rong Lian’s shoulder.

Looking at the blood covering the silver-blue pattern, she asked, “Imperial Mother, why are these petals broken?”

Rong Lian knew her daughter was a somewhat strange child.

But at this moment, she was somewhat tired.

She didn’t answer Chu Shao’s question, but instead brought up another matter.

Rong Lian said softly, “Actually, I despise this tune very much.”

Princess Shao’s eyes remained clear as she stared at Rong Lian, but she didn’t speak, as if waiting for the other to continue.

The peach blossoms in the courtyard had all withered.

In the play, Rong Lian raised her head and looked at the barren tree in the play.

She said, “Once, when the peach blossoms were in full bloom, I bore the trust of the people and went to assassinate Great Yao’s most venomous treacherous minister, the Imperial Preceptor Nan Jin.”

“That year, I had just descended the mountain. It was an age of fearless youth. Holding my sword, I entered the great treacherous minister’s mansion alone.”

“I originally intended to kill the treacherous minister immediately, but in the wind, I heard a beautiful flute melody.”

“Who was playing the flute?” Princess Shao asked.

Rong Lian said, “It was the Imperial Preceptor Nan Jin, the great treacherous minister everyone wishes to kill.”

Princess Shao understood.

“Nan Jin was the person Imperial Mother wanted to kill. She was playing the flute in the courtyard. So, what happened then? Did Imperial Mother kill her?”

Rong Lian shook her head. “I could not kill her.”

“Why?”

“Because I made a mistake.”

Princess Shao looked at Rong Lian. “Imperial Mother, what mistake did you make?”

Rong Lian said, “My sword… deviated by an inch.”

Princess Shao seemed not to understand. She just said “Oh” and continued playing with the jade flute in her hands.

Rong Lian leaned against the pillar, recalling events of the distant past.

Her brows curved slightly, like peach blossoms falling into rain.

“My sword was very steady. If I had not seen that treacherous minister’s face, perhaps it would not have deviated by that inch.”

Xiao Jin could understand why Rong Lian’s sword had struck off-target.

Because the Imperial Preceptor was indeed very beautiful.

Moreover, Rong Lian had spent years in Horizon Sect, unversed in the ways of the world. It was inevitable she’d feel surprise: how could the most treacherous minister of Yao be a woman?

And how could such a cruel, ruthless person play the deeply affectionate melody of Everlasting Longing?

A moment later, something dropped onto the stage.

Plink.

Princess Shao looked at the water droplet fallen on the ground, mixed with red, making it impossible to see its original clarity within.

Princess Shao suddenly realized that perhaps she should comfort Rong Lian.

So she said, “It’s alright, Imperial Mother.”

“It was just an inch.”

The night breeze was cool. The remnants of peach blossoms on the stone steps were swept away by the wind.

Rong Lian curled up in the corner of the Glazed Palace and let out a silent laugh. “Yes, just an inch.”

Who could have known?

A moment of distraction could lead to a lifetime of utter ruin, beyond redemption.

…

Everyone in the Yao Palace knew.

Consort Rong had gone mad.

The maidservant said, “Consort Rong has truly gone mad. Now she rambles around the courtyard all day, and even makes the Ninth Princess practice swordsmanship with her.”

“Yes, those sword shadows look terrifying, yet the Ninth Princess isn’t afraid. Even when cut and injured, she doesn’t cry. She just smiles at Consort Rong.”

The old nanny’s words were extremely caustic. “If you ask me, that Ninth Princess is also a freak. Consort Rong makes her drink some strange medicine, and she doesn’t even ask. She just swallows it without a word.”

The maidservant whispered, “Nanny, do you think this could be the Empress’s doing? After all, the medicines the Ninth Princess takes seem to be all developed by Imperial Physician Su.”

“You silly little wench! Don’t speak such nonsense, do you want to lose your head?!”

After these idle words of gossip, the few irrelevant maidservants exited the stage.

Only Rong Lian and Princess Shao remained on stage.

Princess Shao wore pure white robes, her sleeves fluttering in the wind. She crouched down and reached out to pick up the petals that had fallen from the branches.

Her sleeve slipped down from her wrist, revealing a patch of skin crisscrossed with bloodstains.

For some unknown reason, Princess Shao touched the petals, a smile in her eyes.

But when Princess Shao released the flower in her hand and rolled up her sleeve, staring at the faint blue veins on her wrist, feeling the clear pulse of life within her blood, her smile faded.

That pale white arm was covered in many wounds.

The shallower ones were vivid crimson gouged by a dagger stabbed in and twisted in a circle.

Several deeper ones were probably sword wounds slashed horizontally. The tender skin was split open along the wound, revealing nearly bone.

At first, Princess Shao could still feel pain.

Over time, it numbed. She even gradually learned to enjoy the entire process, even anticipating novel kinds of pain.

A gust of wind blew by, sweeping away the peach blossoms in the courtyard.

Rong Lian came to Princess Shao’s side, her features still aloof and cold.

But the voice that escaped her lips carried a trace of tenderness that didn’t belong to her.

“Shao’er, come to Imperial Mother.”

Princess Shao walked over. Rong Lian looked at her with a smile. “You know what to do.”

In the play, Princess Shao’s eyes were pitch-black, reflecting the surrounding lights of Jade Splendor Tower.

She stretched out her hand, rolled her sleeve up to the highest point of her arm, and placed the wrist where the blood had yet to dry into Rong Lian’s cool, pale palm.

Rong Lian could just grip Princess Shao’s slender wrist securely.

Holding Princess Shao’s delicate wrist, a smile curved her lips. “Good child.”

Then she picked up the dagger etched with exquisite patterns, aimed its tip at that patch of already wounded skin, and gently stabbed it in.

Blood seeped out along the blade’s edge.

The hand holding the knife, however, moved gracefully and casually through flesh and blood. Like embroidery stitches landing, large swaths of crimson plum blossoms bloomed on a snowy white canvas.

Princess Shao’s wrist trembled violently in Rong Lian’s palm.

Princess Shao felt it. The cold blade was slicing open the wound freshly added just yesterday.

Before she could savor the sensation in detail, another wash of warmth spread across her wrist.

Blood rolled down the trembling arc and dripped onto the floor.

Princess Shao’s body swayed. She used her hand to brace against the peach tree, supporting her stance.

The Glazed Palace in late spring was windy.

A cool breeze blew. Very soon, the blood on her wrist lost its warmth.

Princess Shao’s face was white as transparency, like raw paper soaked in water, just fished out of a pool. Beads of fine cold sweat had surfaced on her forehead.

Lifting her dripping bloodied hand, her young features showed no trace of pain, only a hint of mild regret.

As if she very much cherished the warmth brought by blood flowing over her arm.

Clang—

The dagger fell to the ground.

Rong Lian released her hand. Blood splashed out in large patches, spattering Princess Shao’s pure white skirt.

Princess Shao lost her balance and nearly collapsed.

Fortunately, the peach tree behind her was there, allowing her to fall against the old trunk. With slender, cold little hands, she reached to touch the lingering warmth deep within the wound.

The blood seeped through the gaps in her fingers. Unable to feel that intoxicating warmth, Princess Shao felt it was simply dull. She simultaneously lifted her head to look at Rong Lian.

A smile seemed to linger on Rong Lian’s face, yet along her chin, transparent droplets fell one by one.

Princess Shao had a sudden realization. So, seeing her bleed made Imperial Mother feel joy, genuine tears of happiness.

“But… why?”

“Why should you clearly be feeling happy, yet look so utterly despairing?”

Rong Lian did not answer Princess Shao’s question.

She was merely like a marionette. The corners of her lips pulled into a soul-stirring smile as she lifted her hand to caress the cyan veins on Princess Shao’s wrist.

She said, “Shao’er, you are so good. So much better than Shen Ronglian.”

The words sounded like something the Empress might say.

Princess Shao did not realize this. Nor did she know exactly what was so good about herself.

Having spoken these words, Rong Lian took a small porcelain bottle from her sleeve.

Pulling out the stopper, a clustered mass of Gu worms crawled out of the bottle’s mouth. Smelling the blood, they began to writhe their twisted bodies.

The worms were already crawling onto Rong Lian’s fingertips, yet she held the glazed bottle and said softly to Princess Shao, “Shao’er, Imperial Mother knows you are the best.”

“Give your hand to Imperial Mother. Put these bugs into the cut we just made. Then Imperial Mother will play a tune for you, that same ‘Everlasting Longing.’ Alright?”

Princess Shao very much enjoyed listening to her Imperial Mother play the flute.

Looking at that clump of worms, stuck together, scrambling to burrow into Rong Lian’s sleeve, she felt some disgust in her heart, but a smile still rose on her face.

She nodded and answered, “Alright.”

Rong Lian’s lips held a smile. Step by step, she approached the girl, holding the small bottle, reaching out her hand.

Then, she halted mid-air, grabbing Princess Shao’s wrist.

Crash!

A teacup suddenly shattered.

Tea splashed onto the stage, faint wisps of steam still rising from it.

Staring at the teacup shattered into countless shards on the ground, the two actresses on stage were jolted awake.

They stared at each other in stunned terror, then turned to look at the person who had thrown the cup.

Xiao Jin sat in her wheelchair. No expression could be seen on her face, but the blood in her veins seemed to have frozen into ice, becoming impossibly cold.

Her eyes stared fixedly at the two actresses on stage.

Yet she found that, at this very moment, even uttering a single word felt excruciatingly difficult.

Only after a long while did Xiao Jin’s lips move, managing to force out two simple words.

“Enough.”