Chapter 22: The State Preceptor Scheming to Overthrow the Court

Xu Zhaosu had always considered herself a decisive and ruthless person. She never regretted any of her actions in this lifetime—except for Shi Qingyi. All her regrets were poured into that one person.

Shi Qingyi’s body had weakened to an extreme degree. When she lay in Xu Zhaosu’s arms deep into the night, her breathing was faint. Xu Zhaosu dared not close her eyes all night, fearing that if she dozed off even slightly, she would wake to find this person gone.

She hooked her fingers with hers and kissed her temple, murmuring into her ear, “Qingyi, do you regret meeting me? If back then, I hadn’t brought you down the mountain, maybe everything would have been different…”

The past surged forward, as if a lifetime had flashed by in the blink of an eye.

Shi Qingyi had no strength left. She merely closed her eyes slightly and breathed out two faint words. Xu Zhaosu couldn’t make them out, so Shi Qingyi grasped her hand and slowly wrote on her palm.

Her hand was slender and beautiful, but terrifyingly thin. The pale blue veins were visible through her skin, and it trembled as she wrote crookedly.

She wrote: “Never…”

Xu Zhaosu rested her chin on Shi Qingyi’s forehead, tears flowing slowly. “I know, I know…”

That night dragged on endlessly, as if it had no end. Xu Zhaosu held the girl at the tip of her heart, waiting for dawn and begging her to hold on just a little longer.

In the pitch-black night, countless slaughters and pursuits continued. The rain mixed with the clash of swords. The Eldest Princess personally oversaw it all, all to save that one life.

As the sky began to lighten, blood stained the blue bricks of the Imperial City. Wounded forbidden troops presented a carefully sealed lacquered box to the Eldest Princess’s desk.

Inside was a small Gu worm, emitting a piercing rustling sound.

A minister waiting at her side hesitated for a moment and blocked her path. “Your Highness, are you really going to give this to Her Majesty?”

These true confidants knew a bit about the palace affairs. Shi Qingyi could be called a true scourge. Her Majesty had already been bewitched twice. Now that she was finally facing her doom, were they really going to let her live?

The Eldest Princess’s long fingers stroked the heavy lacquered box. She lowered her eyes, her sharp expression tinged with exhaustion. “Do you think that if she doesn’t survive, any of you will have a way out?”

As Her Majesty’s blood relative and aunt, she understood the current Her Majesty better than anyone. She had already gone mad once. If Shi Qingyi truly couldn’t be saved this time, rivers of blood would flow in an instant—at least for those blocking her path now, there would be no mercy.

Xu Zhaosu was no longer the gentle and benevolent ruler of old. Madness coursed through her bones, and only Shi Qingyi was the medicine that suppressed it.

The minister’s heart jolted, as if enlightenment struck in that instant. Cold sweat drenched his back. The Eldest Princess brushed past him and hurried toward the palace through the wind and rain.

The Mother Gu had been found, but the one who refined it had already taken their own life amid the chaos in fear of punishment. Whether she could be saved remained unknown.

The Heavenly Prison was no better than the outside. Every captive endured brutal torture. To extract confessions in one night, countless cruel methods were employed, nearly washing away all the remnants of the previous dynasty’s forces in the Imperial City with blood.

Later, this became a significant stain in Xu Zhaosu’s life. Historians described her as tyrannical and bloodthirsty starting from this event. Legends even said the blood in the Heavenly Prison overflowed with the morning rain.

The entire Imperial Palace, even the vast Imperial City, accompanied the Female Sovereign through this agonizing night.

Later, they dragged Jing E out of the Heavenly Prison.

She controlled the Gu worm, and with the refiner dead, she was the only one left in the world who could manipulate it.

The once arrogant woman had her eyes tightly shut. Even after enduring the tortures, she refused to yield. Her pride was terrifying; even now, her spine remained ramrod straight.

Shi Qingyi had been raised by this woman, inheriting the same cold pride.

Xu Zhaosu leaned back against the desk. Having gone too long without sleep, her eyes were threaded with frightening bloodshot veins. Her hand pressed on the bloodstained lacquered box. Thunder boomed outside the window amid torrential rain. Her voice was chilling, like a beast driven to the end of its road.

“You know what I want—”

From beginning to end, she only wanted that one person.

Jing E lifted her head. Whip marks scarred her face, blood streaming freely, yet her inherent stubbornness remained. “Then you should also know I won’t let you have your way. Even if she dies, it will be as a martyr for the nation!”

To die as a martyr, fulfilling her unwavering loyalty—that was her destined end.

“She was the child you raised, the one who respected you as her master and only elder for a lifetime, obeying your every command—” Xu Zhaosu’s tone seemed mocking, or perhaps pitying for her girl. Her gaze burned with wordless fury.

“Are you really going to watch her die with your own eyes?”

Jing E’s straight spine trembled for an instant before straightening again, as if no storm in the world could bend her even slightly.

Her tone was cold and hard, carrying a difficult sorrow. Word by word, her voice started low but grew louder, as if convincing herself or others.

“That’s what she deserves!”

The child she had raised ended up falling in love with her mortal enemy. Humans were not heartless, but some things could never be reconciled.

Xu Zhaosu silently adjusted her robes, hiding her trembling hands.

“But if she dies, I’ll make everyone accompany her in death.” Xu Zhaosu clutched her robes, her voice flat, yet everyone could feel her deadly seriousness—no hint of jest.

“Not just you—all those involved in the capital. None will escape!”

Thunder crashed outside the window, mingled with other sounds. The guards pushed open the hall doors, and the howling wind and cold rain poured in instantly. They dragged in two people: a man and a woman. The woman resembled Shi Qingyi; the man was handsome and upright, clearly of high status.

“Did you think your plot was flawless? Without my permission, no one can leave my Imperial City—”

“How could this—” Even someone as composed as Jing E cried out in shock.

General Zhong was the Princess’s lover and one of the top ministers in the court. He had sworn to the heavens to protect Her Highness at all costs and promised that if the operation failed, he would die to ensure her escape. So she had clung to that hope, but she never imagined—

No, wait—there was still—

Jing E turned her head in shock. Outside the hall was like purgatory. Piercing wails cut through the rain, echoing between heaven and earth.

In the darkness and storm, countless forbidden guards herded hundreds of prisoners through the downpour. Heavy shackles clamped their necks—from elderly elders to children as young as a few years old, all chained and forced to kneel in the pouring rain.

Among them were her former comrades, disciples she had taken, righteous followers, and children she had taught. Now they all knelt outside the hall, with blades hovering inches above their heads, ready to fall at any moment.

Xu Zhaosu’s fingers dug deeply into the lacquered box, her voice like a demon awakening in hell.

“Now, all their lives are in your hands.”

“You’d better think carefully—”

If the girl she cherished died, no one would live contentedly!

Jing E did have unyielding pride and feared not death, but that didn’t mean she could bear to let everyone die with her. Xu Zhaosu gave her no time to hesitate—she feared her Qingyi couldn’t wait.

Every quarter-hour without a decision meant killing one person, carving flesh from those in the hall, until all her accomplices outside were slaughtered, and the two inside were executed by lingchi, scraped down to skeletons—neither living nor dying in peace.

Jing E’s surrender came swiftly, like bamboo finally bending under pressure. Her spine curved, and in moments, she hunched over like an old woman. The lacquered box was placed before her, and she finally reached out with trembling hands to take it.

“I’ll save her, but you must let Her Highness go…”

Even at this moment, she was still thinking of her cherished princess.

Xu Zhaosu lowered her head, a thin, cold smile tugging at her lips. She leaned close to the imprisoned woman—Shi Qingyi’s mentor—waiting for her demand to achieve the final goal, right up to now.

“I can let her go, but from this day on, you and Shi Qingyi are done. No ties left.”

The grace of raising her was as heavy as a mountain; Shi Qingyi couldn’t sever it herself, but Xu Zhaosu could force Jing E to do it. From then on, vast distances would separate them, with no chance of reunion.

Jing E seemed to finally understand. Her hands suddenly clenched the ground, lips parting and closing, but ultimately she closed her eyes in defeat. The Female Sovereign, having gotten her wish, carefully cradled the lacquered box and shuffled unsteadily inward. Jing E stared deathly at that retreating back, blood tears falling silently from her eyes. “Xu Zhaosu, with actions like these, aren’t you afraid of retribution?”

As if hearing the greatest joke, Xu Zhaosu paused slightly but did not turn back.

“My retribution came long ago.”

She had already endured enough retribution in this lifetime.

Pushing aside the four screens, the dragon saliva incense had burned to its end. The girl in white leaned against soft fox fur, eyes closed, warm liquid trailing slowly from the corner of her eye.

Xu Zhaosu’s heart twisted in pain. She went over, embraced her, and kissed away the warm tears from her eyes repeatedly. She pulled her into her arms and stroked her trembling back again and again. “Qingyi, I’m here, I’m here…”

Shi Qingyi had been behind the screens the whole time. Jing E didn’t know, but even if she had, she probably would have chosen this outcome anyway.

Xu Zhaosu wanted Shi Qingyi to watch with her own eyes as Jing E abandoned her—even if it cut her heart like a knife, she had to see it. Even if it hurt, the pain would only last this moment, leaving no room for future entanglements. She wanted Shi Qingyi’s eyes and heart to hold only her.

“I’ll always be by your side…”

Everyone else abandons you, gives up on you, uses you—I won’t. I’m the only one who will give you my heart and soul, no matter the cost!

She knew Jing E had raised Qingyi, but from this day on, Qingyi owed her nothing. It was Jing E who severed their bond, using her as a bargaining chip for the princess’s safety.

“Qingyi, take the medicine…” The lacquered box held a mixture of the Mother Gu and Jing E’s blood. Consuming it would dispel the Child Gu in her body. But Shi Qingyi refused to open her mouth.

Shi Qingyi turned her face away. Before Xu Zhaosu could lose her temper and force it down her throat, she whispered, “I… treated Your Majesty that way before. Does Your Majesty truly not hate me anymore?”

Her eyes were clear, enduring great pain, yet her brows and eyes held inconceivable gentleness. She leaned close to Xu Zhaosu, like someone freezing to death drawing near a heat source. “At first, cough cough, I came to atone to Your Majesty. If Your Majesty still hates me, I won’t take it, alright?”

If you still hate me, I’ll atone with my death.

Her mind seemed unclear, yet her stubbornness was terrifying. “I failed you, Zhaosu…”

It was the first time she called Xu Zhaosu by name, not “Your Majesty.” She murmured the same question repeatedly. “Do you still hate me…”

Those hurts couldn’t be erased. At this point, the one who couldn’t move past it was herself.

Xu Zhaosu’s eyes burned hot for an instant. She swallowed the blood herself, leaned down to pass it into her mouth mouth-to-mouth, forcing her to drink. Their lips and tongues tangled, breaths filled with the metallic tang of blood. Xu Zhaosu held her tightly.

“Of course I hate you—”

Shi Qingyi froze, the faint light in her eyes dimming to ash.

Xu Zhaosu bit her lip, almost tearing into her flesh. “So you have to live well and atone. Stay by my side for life—no escaping, no leaving, don’t even think of going anywhere—”

It took a long time before Xu Zhaosu felt the hand that had drooped despondently return to her waist, light as a fallen dead leaf.

She rasped, “As you command.”

Xu Zhaosu’s heart finally settled firmly. She knew Shi Qingyi would live.

She had the saving medicine—and now, the will to live.

—

Shi Qingyi was a woman of her word. After taking the antidote, her body slowly improved, though it took half a year to stabilize fully. The Female Sovereign kept her well-cared for by her side, where ordinary people could not see her.

One afternoon at the end of autumn, after Shi Qingyi had “atoned,” she couldn’t help but fall into a deep sleep. Her body was still not fully recovered, and Xu Zhaosu doted on her—even in bed, she always accommodated her.

Once she confirmed Shi Qingyi was fast asleep, the Female Sovereign pulled on a robe to cover the mottled marks on her body, drew the gauze curtains, and summoned the imperial physician.

The imperial physician who had returned this time was specially summoned from the Miao Frontier and was well-versed in the habits of Gu Worms. Although Shi Qingyi had survived, the Child Gu within her body had not died—it was merely suppressed for the time being.

This Gu had lodged itself in her body for too long, making it exceedingly difficult to expel in a short period. They could only proceed gradually. Yet after half a year had passed, they finally found a suitable opportunity.

“I have tried this multiple times already. As long as we mix the Mother Gu’s blood with medicine and use a silver needle to pierce and lure the Child Gu out, the Gu poison will be fully resolved. From then on, no one will ever be able to use it to threaten her.”

The imperial physician from the Miao Frontier was actually a young woman. She cradled the highly toxic Gu Worm in her hands and stood unflinchingly before the ruler whose infamous reputation had spread across the realm. She simply tilted her head up and asked, “But why doesn’t Your Majesty keep the Gu?”

Xu Zhaosu lowered her gaze to regard her, her eyes giving nothing away.

The woman continued, “This Gu isn’t used to harm people in our village. The girls there—if they fell for someone from outside and got deceived, or when marrying outsiders—sometimes used this one.”

“This Gu has another name: Tongxin Gu. If the beloved turns away, it snaps their liver and intestines in agony until death, so outsiders call it Duanchang Gu.”

“Actually, if you don’t use the Mother Gu, it’s not a big deal for the Child Gu to remain in her body. Does Your Majesty still wish to remove it?”

The light and shadows in the hall flickered and danced, reflecting in people’s eyes but failing to illuminate the abyss-deep human heart.