Chapter 37: Qingdai: Out of the Wolfs Den, Into the Tigers Lair?

Shortly after the Empress’s tragic wail echoed through the palace, Qingdai—having just entered Mochen Pavilion—let out a hysterical scream of her own.

“No! I won’t go in! There are heads all over the ground!”

Leng Yu, who had anticipated Qingdai’s terror, quickly offered a word of comfort. “As long as you complete the task the Empress assigned you, your head won’t end up on the ground.”

She leaned in closer, her voice eerily calm. “Besides, they’re all alive. Don’t believe me? Look, their eyes can still move.”

Hearing such “warm” reassurance from the stoic Leng Yu, Qingdai felt her heart sink even deeper into a pit of dread.

What did she mean? If she failed her duties, would she also be buried in the dirt to become a “tree person”?

The timid Qingdai trembled like a leaf in a gale.

The prisoners, half-buried in the earth across the pavilion grounds, rarely saw such a delicate young girl. Low, guttural sounds rumbled from deep within their throats, almost as if they were mocking her cowardice.

Qingdai covered her eyes, but she couldn’t block out her ears. “I… I’m scared…” she whimpered.

Leng Yu glanced at the various pits where the “people” seemed to be struggling to grow. She let out a helpless sigh. “I’ll stay with you for a while. But let’s get one thing straight—I don’t have time to linger here forever. You’ll have to adapt eventually.”

“O-okay…” Qingdai stuttered, trying her best to control her shaking body.

Knowing that retreating was not an option, Qingdai forced herself to adjust. However, seeing such a scene for the first time made it impossible to hold back her tears. She wept openly, her vision blurring as she cast a cautious, trembling gaze over the prisoners “planted” in the soil.

These prisoners were buried up to their waists. Above the waist, they sat within semi-circular pits. Their arms were bound by chains as thick as two fingers, and the Pipa bones in their shoulder blades were pinned directly to the iron links.

Whenever their upper bodies moved, the chains would clatter, followed by the uncontrollable, agonized whimpers of men whose bones had been pierced.

Qingdai noticed the soil in the pits seemed damp. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

Sensing her question, Leng Yu took the initiative to explain. “Your daily job is to water them. Just keep the soil at about this level of humidity.”

Water them? People need watering?

Qingdai froze, the confusion in her eyes deepening.

Leng Yu wasn’t quite sure how to explain the mechanics of it. She simply said, “Just treat them like mushrooms, and you’re the gardener growing them.”

Qingdai remained dazed. “Do… don’t they need to eat?” she asked timidly.

Leng Yu waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t need to worry about that. Someone else handles their food. Your only responsibility is the daily watering.”

Seeing Qingdai nod obediently, Leng Yu hesitated for a moment before adding a stern warning. “Don’t even think about hiding. If Her Majesty finds out, you might find yourself in one of these pits next.”

Qingdai’s face turned deathly pale. “Can I… can I ever go back to the Shangguan Manor?” she asked, her voice cracking.

Leng Yu looked at her with an incomprehensible expression. “Why would you go back there? From what I saw, there isn’t a single decent person in that manor besides you and your lady. Think about how those people bullied you when you first entered the palace.”

At the memory of the scars covering Qingdai’s body when she first arrived, Leng Yu couldn’t suppress a surge of anger.

Leng Yu had grown up in the Hidden Camp; she had endured countless wounds and punishments, and she was not easily moved by a few scars. But the marks on Qingdai were different—they were clearly the result of malicious, petty abuse.

Watching Leng Yu’s indignant expression, Qingdai bit her lower lip, tears welling in her eyes again.

She felt that being beaten and toyed with at the Shangguan Manor was still better than “growing human mushrooms” in the Imperial Palace. At least at the manor, she didn’t have to worry about one day being turned into a mushroom head herself if she made a mistake.

Seeing Qingdai cry for what felt like the hundredth time, Leng Yu sighed and compromised. “Fine, I was just scaring you. The people buried here are either those who betrayed the Empress or vicious criminals. You don’t need to worry so much.”

There was one sentence Leng Yu didn’t say aloud: With your status, you aren’t even worthy of being buried here yet.

Qingdai, currently “unworthy” of burial, was still consumed by terror. She felt her luck was truly abysmal. She had finally escaped the wolf’s den of the Shangguan Manor, only to fall into the tiger’s lair of the Imperial Palace.

However, to ensure she didn’t become a mushroom, she would have to work hard at growing them.

With Leng Yu’s encouragement, Qingdai plucked up her courage and walked toward a prisoner. Her hand shook as she picked up a wooden ladle, scooped some water, and slowly poured it over the prisoner’s head.

The cold water hit the man, causing him to let out a low, muffled groan. Qingdai nearly dropped the ladle in fright, scrambling back several steps.

Leng Yu watched from the side, shaking her head helplessly. “Don’t be afraid. They can’t hurt you right now.”

Qingdai nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped forward once more…

***

On the other side of the palace, Luo Wushuang had just finished enduring Shangguan Liqian’s interrogation.

Seeing Liqian’s displeasure, Luo Wushuang felt a hint of dissatisfaction, though it was mostly overshadowed by a guilty conscience.

Fine, she admitted it—she had done it on purpose.

Her sister’s little maid clearly had no courage. Throwing her into Mochen Pavilion to be frightened would see if she ever dared to spout nonsense in front of Liqian again.

Luo Wushuang, who was capable of maneuvering around the “old foxes” of the imperial court, naturally knew that Qingdai didn’t actually have the guts to speak ill of her. The maid had only spoken up because she was worried about her lady and was fiercely loyal.

But knowing that didn’t stop the jealousy. Luo Wushuang wanted to throw the girl as far away as possible—preferably somewhere she would never appear before Liqian again.

However, she feared that if she went too far, Liqian would only worry more. Thus, she had settled for “stationing” the girl within the palace grounds.

Luo Wushuang estimated that this small punishment wouldn’t cause any real issues. But looking at the expression on her sister’s face, it was clear that Liqian was deeply concerned for her little maid.

Though she was unhappy and begrudging, Luo Wushuang explained patiently to put Liqian at ease. “Sister, I have merely issued a small punishment as a warning to ensure she learns her lesson. Besides, Leng Yu is with her. Nothing will go wrong.”

Seeing that Luo Wushuang’s mind was made up, Shangguan Liqian let out a weary sigh. “Wushuang, Qingdai has always been timid. Don’t scare her to death.”

“I know, Sister. I know my limits,” Luo Wushuang replied smoothly.

On the surface, she was agreeable, but internally, she was wondering if she should send someone to see just how terrified the girl was. She couldn’t actually let the girl be scared into madness; that would be impossible to explain to her sister.

Shangguan Liqian realized that further words were useless for now. It seemed she would have to wait for Wushuang’s petty anger to fade before finding an opportunity to get the girl out.