Chapter 19: The State Preceptor Scheming to Overthrow the Court Part 2

“Mm, I must have been mistaken.”

Shi Qingyi: “…”

Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Xu Zhaosu smile like this in ages. It felt like since their first meeting years ago, they had never shared such a warm, serene atmosphere.

She carefully fed Xu Zhaosu her medicine and some porridge before speaking softly at last. “If Your Majesty is unhappy, I won’t ask again.”

Xu Zhaosu’s freshly washed hand paused mid-air.

“I’ll stay by Your Majesty’s side properly.”

The mountains hid the passage of time—it was good that way. Serene, undemanding on the mind, enmities dissolved. Perfect for passing her final days.

Xu Zhaosu slipped her hand into her embrace, her lashes trembling as she nestled into the warmest spot. “Cold.”

They were both avoiding those questions—ones that, peeled back, revealed wounds deep enough to shatter bones.

Xu Zhaosu’s governance wasn’t going smoothly. The female lead was trapped in the deep palace, everyone racking their brains to rescue her. The borders cried out in urgency on all sides, and countless vermin gnawed at the empire’s foundations from within.

She doted on Shi Qingyi to the extreme. Even amid such divided attentions, she visited her daily. An inexplicable possessiveness made her desire to monopolize Shi Qingyi terrifyingly intense.

Occasionally, when Shi Qingyi worried for her fatigue and reduced their intimacies out of pity, Xu Zhaosu would secretly note it and later, in the heat of passion, bite her ear.

“Are you disgusted by my scars, so you won’t…”

She was actually born beautifully—skin like ice and jade, naturally flawless features blending bright arrogance with the noble elegance of a ruler. But her status usually suppressed her looks; few dared gaze directly at the sovereign’s face, so her beauty was often overlooked.

As the late emperor’s only child, she had been pampered from youth, never scarred until that year in the dungeon. The marks on her waist and legs were especially vivid, turning bruised and purple in winter, painful even to stand or walk.

There was one more place—her chest. An arrow had pierced through her lung, leaving a wound that made her cough from time to time. The arrow had been poisoned, and to save her life, a large chunk of flesh had been cut away. A massive scar marred her pale skin, destroying all sense of beauty.

She draped her arm over her eyes and rasped, “If you truly mind it, I’ll go to the imperial physicians tomorrow for skin-changing medicine. How about I replace all this skin and flesh?”

The skin-changing technique was utterly cruel and painful, equivalent to peeling off a layer of flesh alive. Shi Qingyi’s forehead twitched as she firmly pulled down her arm. She found her eye sockets damp. She leaned down to kiss the corner of her eye, then trailed along to the bridge of her nose and her moist red lips, finally pressing a kiss to the scar on her chest.

It was pious, like a pilgrimage.

Xu Zhaosu didn’t dare look down. She could only silently tighten her arms, trapping her in that small space.

“Does it hurt?”

She wasn’t sure if Shi Qingyi meant then or now. It had hurt back then, of course it had. She had promised to leave with her, yet she had broken that promise and fattened herself on deceit, setting up a trap in advance. One misstep would lead to eternal damnation. The pain had driven her mad, filling her with a desire for revenge—to make her feel a thousand, a million times the agony she had suffered, to make her wish for death but deny it to her, to torment her endlessly.

That was why she had stormed the Imperial City without regard for anything, savage enough to set Yuming Hall ablaze.

Yet she had never once wanted her dead.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” those were just fleeting clouds, past events scattered by the wind. She rasped back, “It hurt at first, but not anymore…”

She spoke of the long-unhealed wound on her chest, and also of the heart that had once shattered into pieces. Shi Qingyi vaguely guessed at her background and past—taboos that could not be spoken aloud. It was she who had first harbored wicked thoughts, forcibly dragging a person unstained by worldly dust into the mire.

Dense kisses fell continuously. She whispered quietly by her ear, “It looks good, and also…”

The rest of the words were bitten into her ear. Even Xu Zhaosu, who prided herself on her thick skin, couldn’t help but flush.

A sovereign lavishing such favor on a lone woman naturally couldn’t be hidden for long. The entire Imperial City buzzed with rumors, versions multiplying endlessly.

Some said the woman had a face strikingly similar to the former State Preceptor. Others claimed she was innately seductive, skilled at bewitching hearts, a nine-tailed fox incarnate. The boldest insisted she resembled the famously ugly Lady of Qi—hideous and rugged— and that the Female Sovereign had been blinded by an illusion spell, mistaking her for a peerless beauty.

These bits of gossip spread like wildfire, especially since the Female Sovereign had history. With a State Preceptor of nation-toppling beauty before her, comparisons were inevitable.

Countless people sighed in regret: so this was the extent of a ruler’s love. Back then, she had doted on the State Preceptor, granting every whim, utterly indulgent. Now a new favorite had arrived, revealing the ruler’s true face.

These rumors reached the Eldest Princess’s ears eventually. She had finally outlasted Her Majesty’s damned sweetheart and was in the midst of selecting an imperial consort for Her Majesty: “…”

Unwittingly, someone had slipped through again. Furious, her hands trembled as she directed her subordinates to submit several memorials in succession, arguing that the Suburban Palace was unsuitable for handling state affairs and earnestly requesting Her Majesty to prioritize the greater good and return to the palace temporarily.

The pressure was too intense. Xu Zhaosu couldn’t even sleep through the night. Ministers would suddenly appear in the snow to request audiences. After several such nights, and another midnight wake-up amid ghostly wails and wolfish howls, Shi Qingyi couldn’t take it anymore. She pressed her brow and slumped into Xu Zhaosu’s arms. “Your Majesty, perhaps we should go back.”

Soft and fragrant as warm jade, but so sleepy.

They’d be hounded to death at this rate.

“If you don’t want to bring me back, you can go alone—” This kind of life wasn’t fit for humans anyway.

Xu Zhaosu rubbed the corner of her eye, smiling ambiguously as her voice gradually darkened. “What? You’d rather stay here alone than return with me?”

I didn’t. That’s not it.

Shi Qingyi struggled to open her eyes, not letting her suspicions fester. She leaned in to kiss the corner of her vermilion lips and sighed. “I’ll listen to whatever Your Majesty says, alright?”

—It was too cruel. This life truly couldn’t go on.

“If you’re sleepy, just sleep…” Someone murmured softly by her ear, but she could no longer make out the words. Lately, she had grown increasingly lethargic, spending most of the day in deep slumber, her body devoid of strength.

Her body lacked strength, but her soul remained clear. Though her face sank into sleep, her mind stayed alert under the System’s enhancement. She clearly heard slow footsteps approaching, followed by someone kneeling to pay respects.

“Is this medicine truly as you said, without side effects, Ding Lin?” The Female Sovereign held the girl in her arms, her gaunt jaw casting a sharp shadow in the lamplight.

“Generally, there are none.” His voice was low, aware that the sleeping one was currently the object of utmost imperial favor. He feared disturbing her rest—though he knew full well she wouldn’t wake.

“What do you mean ‘generally’?”

“It means, at the previous dosage, the person would at most feel weak and fatigued, prone to drowsiness and loss of appetite. But if the dose is increased…”

The Female Sovereign’s eyes narrowed slightly. She said coldly, “Continue.”

“If the dose is further increased, beyond what the body can bear, it will likely cause harm.”

“What kind of harm?”

The physician broke out in cold sweat. “It might… damage the mind. Excessive use leads to extreme lethargy, which inevitably affects cognition and impairs memory. In severe cases, it could even… turn a person into a fool…”

He had only seen such a vicious method used in inner courtyard feuds against irreconcilable enemies. Never had he witnessed someone like Her Majesty, dosing even more heavily the more she doted.

Perhaps this was the saying: accompanying a ruler is like accompanying a tiger. The sovereign’s heart was unpredictable indeed. The outside world buzzed with tales of this poor girl’s blissful days—what a pity.

As a physician, he couldn’t bear it and ventured one more question. “Your Majesty, have you truly decided?”

No room for turning back?

After a long pause, he seemed to glimpse in his peripheral vision the Female Sovereign kissing the person’s forehead, cherishing her deeply. Yet her voice was one of utter isolation. “Use it.”

Cruel and merciless.

So what if she became a mindless fool? As long as she stayed by her side, it was fine.

A fool couldn’t run or betray, and could stay by her side every moment, without fear of someone scheming to steal her away.

Who would want a lunatic? Not even the remnants of the previous dynasty would take a fool. Only herself—only she would never abandon her, no matter her state.

The physician closed his eyes in despair, knowing persuasion was futile. He kowtowed twice and withdrew hoarsely. “This subject will go prepare the medicine.”

The vast palace fell silent once more, leaving only two people. Xu Zhaosu kissed the corners of the sleeping one’s eyes and brows along the mask’s edge, murmuring to herself. “You’ll never leave me, right?”

A moment later, she laughed at herself. “Even if you wanted to leave, I wouldn’t let you.”

“You can’t leave.”

She sighed, half in lament, half in self-mockery.

“Are you still lucid now? If you are, hate me early—hate me so much that in your next life, you come find me again, and I’ll atone to you lifetime after lifetime. This life, let me wrong you…”

It was the ruthless, resolute side Shi Qingyi had never shown her while awake.

But she had forgotten—the person in her arms was already sunk in deep slumber.

—

System: “I told you long ago, she’s blackened to 100%. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have directly killed off the female and male leads.”

Shi Qingyi’s heart was a tangle, her mood ruined by it. “If you could say anything useful, I wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

“Host, you have to trust my loyalty.” It sounded so sincere, yet it immediately dumped a pile: On How to Pretend to Be a Fool, 100 Questions on Foolish Personalities, Differences Between Fools and Normal People…

Shi Qingyi just wanted to smash its dog head.

—

When she woke again, they were already on the road down the mountain. Xu Zhaosu’s state affairs had piled up to a breaking point. Even in the carriage, she couldn’t rest, still reviewing memorials. Seeing her awake, she took her hand and spoke softly. “We’ll enter the palace soon. Don’t be afraid. It won’t be long before we return, and we’ll never come back after.”

It wasn’t Shi Qingyi who was afraid—it was clearly Xu Zhaosu herself, wanting to hide her away in the deep mountains, yet compelled by her burdens to return.

Shi Qingyi sipped some tea to ease the throbbing pain in her forehead and hummed in acknowledgment.

No point in saying more anyway.

After entering the palace, little changed, save that their residence shifted from the Temporary Palace to Mingze Hall. Those Daoists and monks finally lost their fool’s errand of swindling the Female Sovereign and were all expelled. In their place stood layer upon layer of forbidden guards, surrounding Mingze Hall like an iron barrel.