Chapter 12: The State Preceptor Scheming to Overthrow the Court

Xu Zhaosu’s hand at the edge of the couch tightened imperceptibly. After a long moment, she opened her eyes nonchalantly. “Is that so?”

It was impossible to discern joy from sorrow.

The lamp wick burned to its end and fell with a soft pop. The candle flame flickered as Shi Qingyi set down the book. Her voice remained calm and serene. “Of course. There shouldn’t be anyone in the world who doesn’t like Your Majesty.”

Shi Qingyi picked up the scissors to trim the lamp wick. The constant flickering wasn’t good for Xu Zhaosu’s eyes; it might cause her pain again in the night.

“The State Preceptor doesn’t like me,” came a voice from behind after a long silence, sounding almost self-mocking.

Shi Qingyi paused. The flame trembled slightly—no one knew whose hand shook. Her voice was soft, as if forcing a smile. “That’s because she has no eye for quality and doesn’t know what’s good for her.”

Her hand trembled too violently, and with one snip, she cut off the wick entirely. With a snip, the hall plunged into silent darkness. Someone spoke in a muffled voice. “Your Majesty, rest first. This servant will fetch a lamp from outside.”

Without waiting for Xu Zhaosu to respond, the person hurried out, her steps so quick they seemed like a panicked retreat. She hadn’t even closed the hall door.

Xu Zhaosu opened her eyes in the darkness, her gaze heavy as she stared outside. The person had left in such haste, assuming her blindness prevented her from seeing, unaware that her vision was slowly recovering.

The moon shone sparsely amid stars, its frosty light falling into the desolate hall. The girl in white staggered outward. No one knew what was wrong with her—she nearly tripped at the threshold, bumped her knee, but forced herself upright. She clung to the withered tree in the hall and finally bent deeply at the waist.

With Xu Zhaosu’s current vision, she couldn’t see more, only that the usually aloof and proud person seemed in extreme pain, clutching her chest and bending lower, gasping deeply.

Shi Qingyi stood there for how long, and Xu Zhaosu watched from behind for just as long.

It wasn’t until late into the night that Shi Qingyi finally seemed to recover. She pushed herself up from the tree with difficulty. Instead of fetching a lamp, she lightened her footsteps and reentered the hall.

The Female Sovereign had closed her eyes just before Shi Qingyi rose. Only faint footsteps sounded. After a long while, someone sat at the edge of her couch. A hand of cool warmth brushed her temple, silently tracing her features—from her tightly shut brows and eyes to her straight nose, finally resting at her lip corner, brushing away a stray lock of hair from her cheek.

The person drew closer, carrying the sharp, cold fragrance of winter plums. Her voice was bitter yet gentle. “Your Majesty naturally deserves someone better.”

Xu Zhaosu’s hand hidden under the brocade quilt spasmed before slowly clenching. The person leaned down again, resting against her arm, falling silent.

Just before Xu Zhaosu truly drifted to sleep, she vaguely heard a sigh, as if it might scatter into the wind. “It’s I who doesn’t deserve Your Majesty.”

She abruptly opened her eyes. The person curled at her arm had already fallen asleep. Such an aloof and arrogant woman now humbled herself like this, her forehead merely touching the back of Xu Zhaosu’s hand, as if any closer would be overstepping.

A dark glint flickered in Xu Zhaosu’s eyes, like a snake lurking in the shadows. Her sharp fingertip trailed across Shi Qingyi’s cheek like a serpent’s tongue. Her tone was mocking. “So you know you don’t deserve it?”

Xu Zhaosu had also studied the art of rulership, raised by countless pillars of the state. She was proficient in schemes, governance, and politics. How could she fall into the same trap twice?

Such a honey-tongued, venom-hearted viper— no matter how sweetly she spoke, it was all lies. Xu Zhaosu would never believe her again.

She truly couldn’t bear to let Shi Qingyi die so easily. Death would be too merciful. She wanted her to live well and repay every suffering Xu Zhaosu had endured a hundredfold, a thousandfold!

She would cage her, make her suffer everything Xu Zhaosu had. Then she would see how this silver-tongued temptress begged on her knees.

As the hand raking harshly across the woman’s cheek passed her lips, Shi Qingyi seemed to dream of something. She murmured incoherently, her rosy, moist lips parting and closing, her hot breath spilling onto Xu Zhaosu’s fingertip.

—like a faint, ambiguous kiss.

Something stirred in Xu Zhaosu’s heart. In her haze, she caught a word leaking from the woman’s lips. It seemed to be… Zhao.

She strained to hear more, but the woman bit her lip hard, paling it bloodless. Even in sleep, she refused to utter that name.

It made one want to pry her mouth open.

“Heh, is calling my name so filthy for your mouth?”

Xu Zhaosu knew it was foolish to vent anger at a sleeping person, but she couldn’t suppress the malice flooding her heart. She had once hated to yield the empire to her, yet even a dog would grow loyal if fed—but Shi Qingyi never did, biting back instead.

Countless threads wove together, filling her with a chill of sorrow. Perhaps Shi Qingyi simply didn’t like women.

She rubbed the woman’s tightly bitten lip, suppressing her violent urges. She comforted herself it didn’t matter. Now, to survive, Shi Qingyi had to cling to her. Once Xu Zhaosu reclaimed the throne, she could make her mouth freeze with ice, chant her name ten thousand times. Miss one, and into the snake pit she went—after all, she feared snakes most.

Xu Zhaosu sneered, quelling her chaotic heart, and slowly closed her eyes. She told herself Shi Qingyi merely sought a chance to survive.

What a cowardly, grasping sort. But good—fear made her controllable.

The next day, Shi Qingyi awoke to punishment: kneeling on the steps. Xu Zhaosu seemed determined to make her atone, growing ever harsher. After breakfast, she even had the Medicine Apprentice bring a full cup of scalding hot tea.

The System sighed gratefully. “The Female Sovereign truly still cares for you. You haven’t had a drop of water since last night.”

Shi Qingyi retorted expressionlessly, “You’re dreaming.”

The Medicine Apprentice approached, awkward and helpless. The woman kneeling on the steps had her pristine white skirt hem stained with mud. Driven out in only thin inner robes, even the resilient State Preceptor shivered in the biting spring wind.

“Her Majesty’s order is for you to hold this cup of tea…”

Shi Qingyi’s expression was distant and cold as she reached for it. The Medicine Apprentice hesitated more. “Her Majesty’s order is for you to hold it… with your hand.”

Not on a tray.

Shi Qingyi paused but took it anyway. The cup held freshly scalded tea, boiling hot. Her still-healing hand flinched on contact but held steady. Soon, blood seeped through the bandages, and her face paled like gold paper.

—The unhealed wound on her palm had split open.

The System: “…I was wrong.”

How naively had it thought the Female Sovereign would be moved so quickly?

Xu Zhaosu’s eyes were half-closed. After a moment, she glanced up. Through the thin gauze over her eyes, she saw only a jade-like arm holding a steaming cup, trembling violently yet neither set down nor begging mercy.

The cup nearly crushed in her grip, chill deepening in Xu Zhaosu’s eyes. She said coldly, “Fetch her another hot one.”

The Medicine Apprentice: “…”

I’d always thought it was His Majesty fallen on hard times, with that wretch Shi Qingyi kicking her while down, plotting indecencies. But now… something felt off.

Watching Shi Qingyi’s hand nearly cook, the System spoke quietly. “Host, how about I lower your pain threshold?”

“Doesn’t the pain threshold only adjust once a month?”

The System checked its records. “Seems so.”

Shi Qingyi closed her eyes in anguish. “Then forget it.”

She needed to save it for a more important moment.

The System hesitated, then burst out. “Actually, if you’d called the Female Sovereign’s name yesterday, she’d have let you go.”

Her demands were so low. Knowing you might not like women, in her heart, enduring disgust to call her once would have sufficed. But you wouldn’t.

Shi Qingyi fell silent, finding the trash System truly piercing at times. Once the mission ended, she’d toss it into the main god space for repairs.

She knelt half the day until afternoon, when Xu Zhaosu practiced walking and allowed her up. After kneeling so long, even supporting Xu Zhaosu left her legs shaking like a sieve, barely standing. Kneeling to massage Xu Zhaosu’s leg bones became a rare moment of respite.

Yuming Hall and Mingze Hall were separated by just a wall. Footsteps hurried outside, palace maids whispering urgently. “Hurry over. The matron’s already urging. Tomorrow’s the State Preceptor’s birthday—any slower and we’ll delay!”

Xu Zhaosu’s lip curled in a faint sneer.

How she clung to this glory and wealth. Her birthday would be celebrated as grandly as past emperors’ Longevity Festivals, without the slightest restraint.

Shi Qingyi carefully massaged the Female Sovereign’s stiff calf when a hand suddenly seized her chin. Ice-cold, with crushing force, it forced her jaw up inch by inch.

The gauze still covered the Female Sovereign’s eyes—she shouldn’t see, yet her gaze seemed to hold swords, cold and mocking. She leaned slightly, enunciating by her ear. “You suit my tastes perfectly. If I wanted to take you with me, would you be willing?”

The grip numbed half Shi Qingyi’s face. She endured silently, whispering, “This servant is willing.”

As expected.

Hearing this, Xu Zhaosu felt neither surprise nor disgust—just chilling disappointment. This person was so cowardly, willing to do anything to live.

Her hand felt soiled holding the jaw. Xu Zhaosu flung her away harshly. Once a proud celestial fairy, now groveling in the dirt for survival—it disgusted her utterly.

She laughed coldly again, her voice icing over. “Remember your words.”

Willing to follow, yet never again the one on the tip of her heart—even if feigning ignorance now, later—

Her hand in her sleeve clenched tighter. Later, she wouldn’t be so lenient.

At her leg, someone cautiously rested her head on her knee, breathing labored and soft. Pear blossoms scattered in the wind. In that instant, the Female Sovereign considered keeping her by her side forever—not impossible. She hated her, of course, but letting go? Never.

Such hatred, wishing to devour her flesh raw—yet unable to kill, only gnashing teeth.

An icy palm fell on the woman’s nape, as if to snap the fragile neck next instant.

No one knew the Female Sovereign’s inner madness and sharpness—not even herself. As she plotted wild vengeance, her eyes held a sickly, obsessive tenderness.

The State Preceptor rested on the Female Sovereign’s knee. The Female Sovereign stroked the stray hairs on her nape—a rare gentleness from the lately volatile, aloof ruler. Pear blossoms drifted on spring winds, catching in the Female Sovereign’s hair before sliding onto the white robes as she lowered her gaze.

Hidden behind the tree, the Medicine Apprentice felt chilled to the bone, gripped by extreme dread.

The State Preceptor had plotted usurpation, imprisoning the Female Sovereign in hellish suffering for a year. Yet a mere month’s devoted care turned her heart? It bred terror.

Give the State Preceptor more time, and His Majesty would fall completely. A calamity to the realm, nothing less.

Bearing the Eldest Princess’s charge, he couldn’t watch His Majesty repeat her mistakes.