Chapter 17: The State Preceptor Scheming to Overthrow the Court

Slender arms climbed from her waist to her back, wrapping around her like vines, embedding her almost into flesh and blood. Hot breaths sprayed against her ear, urgent and fierce, while the body still trembled faintly.

Shi Qingyi shook the lantern in her hand, and with a clang, it smashed to the ground. The last trace of light extinguished, plunging the vast palace into pitch darkness.

After a long moment, in the endless darkness, someone seemed to sigh softly. The hand that had dropped the lantern hesitated before landing on the Female Sovereign’s gaunt shoulder. “Your Majesty, you’ve mistaken me…” she said gently.

“I’m not the State Preceptor.”

Hearing the noise, palace maids entered tremblingly from outside, their palace lanterns barely illuminating this small space. The girl in coarse hemp clothes crouched down. The Female Sovereign reacted like a startled bird, instinctively gripping her shoulders, fingers digging in deeply as she trembled faintly—as if this person might vanish at any moment with just that motion.

But she simply bent down. The maid carrying the lantern approached gracefully, and finally, they saw that the woman held a pair of shoes and socks in her other hand.

—Upon waking to find the person gone, she had panicked and searched everywhere, terrified it was all a dream, fearing she might flee again. She hadn’t even had time to put on her shoes and socks.

The Female Sovereign’s calves were slender, though overly thin. Held in hand, they were cold as ice, yet their lines were flawlessly smooth—from calf to ankle to toes, without blemish. Faint blue veins hid beneath the pale skin, and her bare arches gleamed like jade.

Stepping on the deep autumn’s icy bricks, they trembled slightly, perhaps from the cold.

The girl half-knelt on the ground, placing the Female Sovereign’s foot on her knee. She carefully fitted the shoes and socks, then straightened the hem of her skirt. As she moved to rise, she found the Female Sovereign’s hand still firmly pressing her shoulder, preventing her from standing.

With no choice, she looked up.

Lantern light flickered. The Female Sovereign’s long hair cascaded like a waterfall over her shoulders, trailing down her smooth neck and past her waist. Her face was deathly pale, emaciated to the point of distortion. Now, gazing down at her, her eyes were deep like an abyssal lake.

The sight was almost frightening.

The hand on her shoulder tightened. Xu Zhaosu’s gaze burned like fire, making one’s heart race.

“How do you know my legs and feet are weak and can’t stand the cold?”

Her voice was icy cold. Shi Qingyi was about to explain when the hand on her shoulder suddenly withdrew and clawed toward her face. In a flash, Shi Qingyi dodged, tilting her head just in time, leaving Xu Zhaosu to grasp at empty air.

“You’re afraid of me?” Xu Zhaosu’s hand slowly clenched, her face darkening inch by inch.

It was an evasive posture, even instinctively retreating a few steps.

“No…” Shi Qingyi lowered her eyes. “This commoner’s face is ugly and might offend Your Majesty’s eyes…”

A cold laugh came from above, echoing mockingly in the vast hall.

Then, she fainted.

…

Her heart throbbed painfully, as if tearing her organs apart. She passed out from the pain only to wake from it again—the torment beyond imagination.

Icy fingers trailed along one side of her cheek, tracing the edge of the wooden mask inch by inch, as if they might rip it off at any moment. Shi Qingyi endured immense psychological pressure, gritting her teeth inwardly at the System: “Has it arrived?”

“It’s still en route,” the System silently applied a pain-block buff, worried sick. “Once a month—this time you’ll endure, but next time might not be so certain.”

With pain temporarily blocked, Shi Qingyi finally caught her breath. The icy fingers on her face finally ended their torment, withdrawing—but not before lingering greedily, outlining her features.

—

The imperial physicians had withdrawn, unable to diagnose the sudden faint. Useless fools—how could a perfectly healthy person collapse without reason?

Xu Zhaosu closed her eyes, calming herself for a long while before suppressing the surging malice in her heart. She leaned toward the silently sleeping figure with reluctance.

She had lost so much weight. In these six months, she must have suffered greatly. Intelligence reports said her days had been frugally simple.

She had appeared half a year ago in a remote, sparsely populated village, claiming to be a famine refugee. Her face ruined, her voice destroyed, she occasionally gathered herbs from the mountains to sell, knew some medicine, and often treated the village’s elders and children to scrape by.

Her life was bitter yet peaceful and uneventful. Half a month ago, she had suddenly taken the imperial edict and headed north to the Imperial City…

Perhaps she had heard of my grave illness.

Xu Zhaosu’s throat itched. Afraid to wake her, she stifled it, covering her mouth and suppressing coughs as low as possible. Darkness flickered in her eyes—thinking of something—and with trembling hands, she took two medicinal pills, gradually stopping the cough.

That great fire half a year ago had been set by the imperial guards on my own orders. She was so naive, always thinking I wanted to burn her alive. Yet even so, she had returned, hadn’t she?

It was I who had forced her into this. If the scars on her face couldn’t be unveiled, then naturally, I couldn’t harm her further—not even if I longed for her day and night, just to see her once more.

Xu Zhaosu fiercely suppressed the urge to rip off her mask, withdrawing her hand with immense willpower. She only greedily touched her lip corner in her sleep.

Warm and alive in this world—not a vague illusion.

As long as she lived, that was enough.

—

When Shi Qingyi opened her eyes, she found herself in a carriage. Xu Zhaosu’s body was frail and intolerant of cold; the carriage was spacious as a room, furnished with a fine soft couch and a sandalwood table. Tea and snacks sat on the table, with thick blankets sealing the corners against any draft.

Xu Zhaosu was reviewing memorials, reclining on the couch beside her. Catching sight of her awake, her brush paused. Half a day’s anxiety settled the instant she saw her, and unconsciously, her lips curved.

“Your Majesty,” that gaze was too intense; Shi Qingyi instinctively averted her eyes. The carriage window was half-open, revealing snow-covered mountains outside, a serene silver landscape. The carriage moved slowly toward the mountain depths. “Where are we headed?”

This year’s first snow had quietly fallen while she slept.

Winter again, snowflakes drifting down. Still groggy, she stifled a yawn—only then noticing Xu Zhaosu watching her quietly.

“If you’re tired, sleep more. It’s an hour away; I’ll wake you when we arrive. Everything’s prepared inside. If you’re still sleepy, you can rest there.”

“We’re on the road to the Suburban Palace. It has natural hot springs. My dear subject knows I fear the cold—it’s perfect for wintering there. As the physician attending me, it’s only right you come along, isn’t it?”

Her voice was gentle and soft, a far cry from the shadowy paranoia in Mingze Hall moments ago. Yet Shi Qingyi instantly felt a chill down her spine.

The Eldest Princess oversaw the Suburban Palace inadequately; ministers couldn’t reach it easily. Unimportant memorials could be decided by the Eldest Princess; serious ones sent by fast horse. But all that required horses.

From another angle: the Suburban Palace was isolated from the world, especially in heavy snow. Trapped in deep mountains, no paths but the official road. Leaving required horses and the Female Sovereign’s personal order.

Like an isolated island at sea, the only exit firmly controlled. Perfect for—

Shi Qingyi’s expression grew complicated. Xu Zhaosu watched her, eyes reluctant to leave. Seeing her speechless look, she personally poured hot tea and fed it to her, concern evident. “Feeling unwell after waking? Drink some tea to refresh.”

“This commoner can manage.” Shi Qingyi half-rose, unwilling to be fed. She took the tea and sipped. Xu Zhaosu’s face chilled briefly before she masked it perfectly.

The tea was clear and cool, not spilling a drop despite the carriage’s motion. Shi Qingyi drank twice, roughly calculating the distance from the Imperial City. Her heart faintly ached. Soon after closing her eyes to rest, the carriage stopped.

The palace sat midway up the mountain, used for autumn hunts before. Winter activation was hasty, unprepared. Snow blanketed everything in pristine white; only white plums extended from the courtyard walls, their sharp fragrance piercing the air.

Shi Qingyi stared, slightly stunned.

Someone approached. Xu Zhaosu wore a white fox-fur cloak with cloud patterns over her shoulders. Her deep, cold-pool eyes shone unusually bright in the silent snowstorm. Though her body and complexion looked poor, her spirits were unprecedentedly high.

“You like white plums too?” Xu Zhaosu smiled faintly, extending a hand and coughing lowly. “My beloved loves white plums. I scoured the world for rare varieties, planting them here for three years. They finally bloomed this year—do you like them?”

Her demeanor was so casual; if not for the arm gripped tightly, Shi Qingyi might have believed it.

“Your Majesty’s beloved is truly fortunate.” Shi Qingyi’s lips twitched; she offered polite praise.

“As long as you like them.” Xu Zhaosu continued on her own, eyes bright with laughter as she gazed at her—mild enough to make the attending maids tear up.

This was probably the best mood Her Majesty had been in for half a year. Her sudden personality shift today, so gentle and attentive—clearly, this physician’s skills were remarkable.

Xu Zhaosu pulled her hand onward, voice warm: “This is deep in the mountains outside the Imperial City, dozens of li from the Imperial Palace. This year’s snow is exceptionally heavy; the passes are sealed, roads treacherous. Leaving is difficult. If you need any herbs, just tell me.”

Shi Qingyi choked. In other words, blindly fleeing without knowing the way might mean freezing to death—and even if she did, she’d surely be caught.

Xu Zhaosu turned back, voice even softer, though cold glints emerged in her eyes: “Does my dear subject have anything else to say to me?”

—A naked threat.

Her gaze burned. This was as obvious as could be; she wanted to see if this person had more to say—anger, resignation, hatred, or desperate flight?

Shi Qingyi thought seriously, meeting the Female Sovereign’s eyes for the first time: “Your Majesty, remember shoes and socks next time you go out.”

Her legs and feet truly couldn’t stand the cold.

Xu Zhaosu froze, breath hitching. After a moment, she hooked her lips in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, the chill indeed dissipating somewhat: “Good. I understand.”

But her grip tightened quietly. She pressed: “Besides that, is there nothing else you want to say to me?”

Shi Qingyi narrowed her eyes slightly. The wind and snow whipped fiercely, stinging her eyes to soreness. She pondered earnestly for a while.

“—The plum blossoms smell wonderful.”

The System dinged: “Target hatred value decreased by 5%—You’re the master; one sentence drops it by 5%.”