Chapter 10: Blind Eyes, Blind Heart

Watching Luo Wushuang’s transparent bravado, Shangguan Liqian became increasingly certain that the woman was hiding something from her.

“Out with it. What trouble have you caused now?” Liqian shot her a look, her voice laced with teasing.

Luo Wushuang took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “I issued an imperial decree earlier… I’ve banned your family from entering the palace.”

Shangguan Liqian wasn’t the least bit surprised by Luo Wushuang’s utter loathing for the rest of the Shangguan clan. In truth, the mere thought of her family now made her feel as though she had swallowed a fly—nauseating and repulsive.

In her past life, she had exhausted herself trying to secure benefits for the Shangguan family, but that was only because she had been thoroughly brainwashed by them. Later, she had begun to realize that parental affection was something she shouldn’t crave, but by then, it was too late.

Near the end, her relationship with the Shangguan family had devolved into a cold transaction. She secured power and wealth for them, and they promised to help her regain her freedom. She never imagined they never intended for her to walk away alive. Once her utility was spent, the only end waiting for her was a dead end.

Fortunately, she was awake now. It felt late, yet perhaps not too late.

Luo Wushuang, unaware that Liqian’s mindset had undergone a cataclysmic shift, remained terrified that her sister would turn her resentment toward her once she heard the rest.

“And?” Liqian prompted. She knew that if this were the only reason, Luo Wushuang wouldn’t be this panicked.

“Shangguan Qinglan demanded to see you. When I refused, she became… overly agitated. She suffered a miscarriage.” Luo Wushuang squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to look at Liqian’s expression.

“A miscarriage?”

Liqian’s voice was flat, devoid of any discernable emotion. To Luo Wushuang’s ears, however, it sounded like the eerie calm before a devastating storm.

Her tightly shut phoenix eyes snapped open. Luo Wushuang explained with desperate urgency, “Sister, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. Please, you have to believe me.”

Liqian slowly raised her hand. In the distance, the palace servants fell to their knees in a synchronized crash, their heads pressed hard against the floor. They were terrified of witnessing the horrific sight of the Empress being struck.

Such scenes had occurred many times before. Whenever the Shangguan family was involved, or whenever one of them was harmed, Lady Shangguan would vent her indiscriminate rage upon the Empress.

The normally decisive and ruthless Empress was only ever defenseless when facing Lady Shangguan’s rebukes—or even her blows. She never struck back; she never even argued.

Even Luo Wushuang herself steeled her nerves, bracing for the impact of a palm against her cheek. Her eyes remained fixed on Liqian, filled with a stubborn, wounded light.

They had already shared the most intimate of bonds, yet her sister’s heart always remained biased toward those who treated her poorly—people linked to her by nothing more than a thin thread of blood. Luo Wushuang longed for the day when she would be the one her sister favored. Even if it only happened once, she would cherish that memory for a lifetime.

Luo Wushuang’s gaze shifted from resentment to pain, and finally, to despair. She knew with sobering clarity that this was a pipe dream—just like the hope that her sister might truly love her and never leave.

To her shock, the touch that landed on her face was incredibly gentle. It wasn’t a strike; it was a soft caress, much like the way Liqian had behaved the previous night when she was pleading for mercy.

Luo Wushuang didn’t feel happy; she felt a wave of grief. Is Sister so furious this time that even hitting me won’t satisfy her anger?

The servants kneeling on the floor were equally perplexed when the sound of a slap failed to materialize. Wait, is Lady Shangguan not going to hit her?

No! they thought. Lady Shangguan must be so triggered that she’s charging up for a massive outburst!

The loyal Leng Yu looked up just in time to see Liqian’s hand move toward her master’s neck. Her heart throbbed with terror. Is Lady Shangguan going to commit regicide? No, I have to protect her!

Just as she was about to leap into action, Lady Shangguan’s voice rang out, calm and unhurried.

“Perhaps that child simply lacked the fate to be her son. Why do you look so devastated?”

Wait… she’s not committing regicide?

Leng Yu quickly composed herself and returned to a perfect kneeling posture before her master could notice her twitching.

At that moment, Luo Wushuang’s eyes were locked onto Liqian’s expressionless face. She had no capacity to worry about Leng Yu’s internal monologue.

“It’s a bit stuffy in the hall. Wushuang, come walk with me outside.”

Without waiting for a response, Liqian turned and led the way.

Unsure of what her sister intended, Luo Wushuang followed cautiously behind. There wasn’t a trace of the Empress’s overbearing majesty left in her; she looked more like Liqian’s little shadow.

Her sister seemed calm for the moment, but Luo Wushuang feared that the second she spoke, this fragile illusion of harmony would shatter.

In reality, Liqian’s heart was far from the stillness she projected. She remembered Shangguan Qinglan’s child quite vividly. In her previous life, Qinglan’s miscarriage had also been linked to her, and the timing was exactly the same—today.

In that past life, her relationship with Wushuang had been at freezing point. Wushuang had been trying everything to please her, and though the Empress disliked the Shangguan family, she hadn’t issued the ban yet. Thus, Qinglan had successfully visited her while she was being “kept” in the palace, and she had successfully pinned the blame for the miscarriage on Liqian.

Riddled with guilt, Liqian had become a puppet for Qinglan. She had secured endless favors for Qinglan’s in-laws, even though the pressure of those demands fell entirely on her own shoulders.

Back then, every time she had “willingly” allowed Luo Wushuang to “discipline” her in bed—enduring all manner of creative “torment”—she had done it largely for Qinglan’s sake.

On the night the Shangguan family finally murdered her, Liqian had begged Qinglan for mercy. She had hoped that for the sake of everything she had done for her, Qinglan would plead for her life. Liqian had been willing to change her name, flee the capital, and live in obscurity. She just wanted to be free. She just wanted to live.

But no one was willing to grant her even that humble wish.

It was only when she looked into Qinglan’s eyes—eyes overflowing with hatred—that she realized even the miscarriage had been a calculated ploy. It was a design to weaponize Liqian’s guilt, ensuring she would work herself to the bone to squeeze benefits out of Luo Wushuang for the Shangguan family and the Marquis’s estate.

As for her life? No one had ever cared.

Suddenly, a domineering figure appeared in her mind. No, someone did care.

Her Wushuang cared.

Liqian’s eyes grew misty. Long ago, when Wushuang had been framed and left destitute on the streets, Liqian had merely given her a steamed bun and a few bits of silver. That insignificant act of kindness was something Wushuang had eventually repaid with her very life. How could Liqian ever hope to carry the weight of such a debt?

Perhaps Wushuang had seen through the Shangguan family’s greed long ago. In her past life, she had tried to warn Liqian countless times. But what had Liqian done?

In her past life, she had been “fair” to everyone except Wushuang. She had failed Wushuang’s profound devotion. This time, she would strive to repay her, to love her, and to ensure that Wushuang could finally be happy.

As for Shangguan Qinglan… Liqian felt a cold sneer forming in her heart. Qinglan already struggled with fertility; this miscarriage hadn’t just ended this child’s life, it had likely ended her chances of ever becoming a mother. Her husband was the Heir Apparent of a Marquis’s Manor; how could such a man ever be content with only one woman? Without a child to secure her position, Qinglan’s future would be a nightmare. No wonder she had hated Liqian so venomously in the past.

She deserves it, Liqian thought.

And I deserved my fate, too.

She had been unable to recognize people for who they were, giving her heart to those who didn’t deserve it. Who else was there to blame?

[Xiaobai: Because you were blind!]