Her bright yellow phoenix robe exuded an aura of absolute majesty.
Yet, as Luo Wushuang hurried toward Shangguan Liqian, her frantic movements betrayed a depth of heartache that words could not express.
I couldn’t even bear to let my Sister kneel; how dare this old woman?
Carefully helping her up from the floor, Luo Wushuang finally looked up at the woman seated on the main throne. The middle-aged beauty shared a striking resemblance to her, though her features possessed a more mature, seasoned charm.
“I offer my greetings to the Empress Dowager. I trust the Empress Dowager is well today.”
Though her words were respectful, her expression lacked even a shred of genuine deference. Her brows didn’t so much as twitch. It was as if she were hoping the Empress Dowager was anything but well—perhaps even hoping she would soon depart for the afterlife.
To Luo Wushuang, the Empress Dowager was no different from anyone else. She was just another bystander who had stood idly by while Wushuang suffered through a lonely, helpless childhood.
While the two had shared a brief period of cooperation after Wushuang seized power, the woman remained nothing more than a somewhat familiar stranger. Wushuang was willing to maintain a facade of harmony for appearances’ sake, but if the Empress Dowager failed to recognize her place, Wushuang wouldn’t hesitate to be ruthless.
The Palace of Benevolent Peace already served as a cage for one “Late Emperor.” It wouldn’t be much trouble to imprison an Empress Dowager alongside him. When the time came, she would simply release word to the public that the Empress Dowager had retired to pray for the nation’s blessings, choosing to stay within the palace walls until her death.
It wouldn’t be a difficult task at all.
Though Feng Qingcheng had never raised Luo Wushuang personally, she understood her only daughter’s temperament well. In many ways, Wushuang was exactly like her. Paranoiac, overbearing, and stubbornly single-minded.
The Empress Dowager’s eyes dimmed as some memory flickered in her mind. Looking at the two women standing hand-in-hand before her, she suddenly lost the desire to continue her interrogation.
Luo Wushuang couldn’t care less what she was thinking. She carefully looked over Shangguan Liqian, and only after confirming she was unharmed did she let out a silent sigh of relief. However, when she turned her gaze back to the Empress Dowager, her eyes were anything but warm.
“If the Empress Dowager only wishes to ask such nonsense, then I shall be taking her with me.”
Without waiting for a reply, Luo Wushuang grabbed Liqian’s hand and turned to leave. As she reached the hall’s entrance, the irritation simmering in her chest wouldn’t quite subside. She paused, her voice cold and laced with an underlying threat.
“In the future, if there is no urgent matter, the Empress Dowager need not disturb the Empress and me.”
Otherwise, I won’t mind finding ways to keep you busy so you have no time for such interference…
Feng Qingcheng watched their retreating figures, shaking her head with a bitter smile. The little girl who once stumbled after her, crying out for “Imperial Mother,” had finally grown up. She was peerless and magnificent, and the arrogance in her eyes was identical to her own youth.
Wushuang was the person most like her in this world. By rights, they should have been the closest of kin.
But in her younger years, Feng Qingcheng had been blinded by hatred. Because she loathed the Late Emperor, Luo Fengting, she couldn’t bring herself to love Luo Wushuang, the child who carried his blood. It wasn’t that she was unaware of the girl’s plight in the palace; she had simply chosen to never lift a finger to help. She had ignored her intentionally.
Because of her indifference, the young Luo Wushuang had lived a life worse than that of a palace servant. She often went hungry, enduring cold and deprivation while being mocked and bullied by the staff.
Feng Qingcheng had known all of it. Yet, every time she considered punishing those servants, she would remember how Luo Fengting had gone out to philander the moment she became pregnant. Luo Wushuang’s very existence had shattered the illusion of the loving harmony she once thought she shared with the Late Emperor.
Back then, her feelings for Luo Fengting were a tangled mess of love and hate, but for the child, there was only blame.
It wasn’t until someone had the audacity to kidnap the Emperor’s only legitimate daughter from the palace that Feng Qingcheng finally realized—this was her child. Her only child, bound to her by blood.
Only then did she snap out of her delusional emotional entanglements and mobilize all her power to find the girl. But when Luo Wushuang returned to the palace, she no longer held a spark of affection for her mother.
It was a self-inflicted wound; she could blame no one else.
She had considered repairing their relationship, but at the time, the palace was a viper’s nest where enemies lurked in every shadow. If she had shown affection for Wushuang then, she would have turned the girl into a target. Those who couldn’t bring her down would have certainly struck at her daughter instead.
Helpless, Feng Qingcheng could only continue her cold treatment of the child. But in Wushuang’s eyes, this only deepened the resentment.
The girl had finally managed to escape that man-eating palace, only to be dragged back by her biological mother’s orders. The continued neglect that followed caused Wushuang to lose all hope in her mother entirely.
Yet, the child was remarkable. In just a few short years, she had grown to a point that even Feng Qingcheng found astonishing. Wushuang used years of careful planning to consolidate most of the palace’s factions.
By the time Feng Qingcheng was ready to close her own net, she realized the court’s power dynamics were incredibly complex, and every prince had their own backers. To ensure her plan to imprison the Emperor went smoothly—and perhaps as a form of compensation for the child she had ignored—she had approached Luo Wushuang. She proposed a partnership to seize the throne.
She promised that once the goal was achieved, she would retreat to the Palace of Benevolent Peace and stay out of politics. As expected, the child agreed, but the look in her eyes was devoid of any warmth.
Feng Qingcheng felt helpless, but she could only swallow the bitter fruit she had grown herself.
Years had passed, and now the child had someone she loved. Hearing the rumors circulating in the palace about their upcoming nuptials, she couldn’t resist summoning the girl to her palace. She wanted to see the person her daughter loved, fearing Wushuang might end up with a fate like her own.
But before she could even ask a few questions, Wushuang had come rushing over in a panic. She was still observing how the girl felt about Wushuang, but it was clear that Wushuang loved the girl with her entire soul.
Her heart and eyes were filled with nothing but that woman…
Such a feeling is truly wonderful.
She had once possessed it too, but in the end, it was nothing more than a flower in a mirror, a moon reflected in water.
But so what? Whatever she wanted, she would get, no matter the cost. Unfortunately, the joy she once felt was gone forever.
Feng Qingcheng narrowed her phoenix eyes. When she opened them again, they held a trace of sinister amusement.
“Someone, come,” she called out, her voice faint and chilling.
Liang Wu, the Head Maid waiting outside, pushed the door open cautiously and bowed respectfully. “My Lady.”
Feng Qingcheng lowered her gaze, admiring her new finger-armor. She asked nonchalantly, “Is His Majesty enjoying himself today?”
Liang Wu knew that the “His Majesty” the Empress Dowager referred to was only the one kept in the Palace of Benevolent Peace—a caged Emperor.
She lowered her head and replied respectfully, “In response to My Lady, the singing and dancing in the side hall are at their peak. The Imperial Kitchen also just delivered fresh deer blood.”
Hearing this, Feng Qingcheng nodded with satisfaction. Her voice carried a hint of mockery and playfulness. “In that case, let us go pay His Majesty a visit.”
