Chapter 23: The State Preceptor Scheming to Overthrow the Court Part 2

She seemed angered, her tone sharp with fury, face flushing. She had meant to mock, but it fell flat.

The Female Sovereign gazed lovingly: “She would want me to live happily.”

What kind of widower literature was this…

Jealous of myself— was that really okay? Why suddenly so angry? Why so furious?!

The System typed quietly: “Host, detecting elevated emotional fluctuations here. Want to take a break?”

Shi Qingyi: “…”

—Trash system, always popping up at the wrong times.

Shi Qingyi had always wondered how Xu Zhaosu recognized her every time so accurately—even blind, even with changed names.

Xu Zhaosu rested her head on her shoulder. “Ayi sounds just like Yi, and Job’s tears is a folk name for millet—that’s not hard.”

“But I didn’t recognize you from the name. From the first moment you appeared, I knew it was you.”

Without any reason, absolutely unmistakable—that was you, the person engraved in her heart for a lifetime. How could she possibly mistake her?

—

4. Imperial Heir

Xu Zhaosu’s rear palace held only Shi Qingyi, her sole favored one known to all. With no others taken, and no hope of anyone else toppling the Female Sovereign’s tyranny, the courtiers grew deeply concerned about the succession.

They figured if they outlasted the Female Sovereign, they could groom the next ruler properly. But Her Majesty refused imperial consorts and bore no children, filling the courtiers with worry.

Every few days, they stirred trouble, urging Her Majesty to expand the rear palace with more fanfare than calls for open remonstrance—though the Female Sovereign ignored them entirely.

Undeterred, they sent handsome men into the palace every few days. One day, after court, Xu Zhaosu returned to find Shi Qingyi admiring a group of handsome men in the Imperial Garden with great interest.

Shi Qingyi merely smiled without speaking. Xu Zhaosu’s face darkened instantly, murderous intent rising. She feared Shi Qingyi felt upset, or worse, took a liking to one.

Mutual jealousy.

The next day, Xu Zhaosu punished all the courtiers who had urged her to take consorts. After the scolding, seeing force failed, they turned to tears, begging Her Majesty to bear a child and leave a bloodline.

The curtain suddenly parted. A cool-faced woman ignored their stunned gazes and said indifferently, “Her Majesty’s health is poor; she is unfit for childbearing.”

The courtiers gaped. How dare a female favorite interfere in court politics? They pointed at her nose, accusing her of deluding them with bewitching words and seducing the ruler.

Shi Qingyi merely gave them a cold look, her voice clear and noble like snow on Snow Mountain: “As both physician and Her Majesty’s bedmate, I naturally know more than you lot.”

That “bedmate” made Xu Zhaosu’s heart stir suddenly; she unconsciously licked her lips.

The matter was never raised again. Afterward, the Female Sovereign doted on her even more, to the point of being impervious.

One afternoon, Xu Zhaosu suddenly told Shi Qingyi she felt nauseous and wanted to vomit—perhaps carrying your imperial child. She secretly watched her expression, testing if Shi Qingyi wanted children.

Accompanying her in the deep palace’s loneliness, naturally no thoughts of heirs.

Shi Qingyi, a doctor herself, knew her body well but played along impassively. She touched her belly: “Eat more; our imperial child is hungry.” Then she fed her cloud cake.

Xu Zhaosu knew she did not care. Later, they adopted a young girl from the imperial clan as heir, entrusting her to the Eldest Princess. Neither Xu Zhaosu nor Shi Qingyi had robust health; they could not expect longevity or a century of life. She hoped only for more time together in their years.

Xu Zhaosu still suffered bouts of anxiety, often sleepless at night. Upon waking, she checked if Shi Qingyi was by her side.

Even sleeping in her arms nightly did not cure it. Xu Zhaosu feared it was all a dream.

Shi Qingyi often kissed her brows after she startled awake: “Even the longest dream ends. Your Majesty, just see what the future brings.”

Time always proved many things.

Shi Qingyi had an inexplicable filter for Xu Zhaosu: She was clearly so approachable—why did everyone say she was vicious?

Everyone: Because she only speaks nicely to you.

After brushes with death, Xu Zhaosu’s hatred had dropped nearly to zero. The System calculated it was just 5% short.

“The remaining bit shouldn’t be enough for her to destroy the world. Mission accomplished. We can actually leave now.”

Shi Qingyi was just about to agree to leave when Xu Zhaosu suddenly appeared behind her. She came over and said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“You can’t go anywhere. I know I was wrong. Don’t leave. If you leave, I’ll kill everyone. You know I can do it!”

She really could. After all, that’s exactly what she had done last time.

That was the second year after the incident. Xu Zhaosu had been trying hard to act like a normal person, but when she sensed in some vague way that Shi Qingyi was about to leave, she completely broke down, like a cornered beast at the end of its road.

Afterward, she imprisoned Shi Qingyi in a separate world, binding her hands and feet with iron chains and stationing heavy guards so she couldn’t move an inch.

She herself went up the mountain, kowtowing nine times in three prostrations to pray to the deity not to take her away.

She had always harbored a vague premonition that Shi Qingyi would definitely leave, that she might not even be a person of this world. But when the premonition came true, she realized how impossibly hard it was to let go.

She climbed ninety-nine steps on her knees, her kneecaps a bloody mess as she knelt before the divine seat. Just as she was about to collapse, Shi Qingyi appeared and pulled the staggering woman into her arms.

Her brows were cool and distant, tinged with anger, her voice icy: “Instead of begging it, you might as well treat me better. At least don’t lock me up in the palace.”

Even with heavy guards and profound iron chains, what should be locked still couldn’t be held—like the human heart. It was only then that Xu Zhaosu truly understood that she hadn’t actually bound Shi Qingyi at all. Shi Qingyi had simply chosen to stay by her side of her own accord.

Xu Zhaosu trembled as she hugged her tightly, asking cautiously and incoherently, “If I treat you better, you won’t leave?”

Those who wanted to leave couldn’t be kept. She finally understood that now.

She couldn’t hold onto Shi Qingyi, no matter how ruthless, hateful, or unwilling she was. If she wanted to go, there was no way she could make her stay.

The Three Pure Ones Statues gazed upon the world with compassion and indifference, seeing through all human hearts.

Shi Qingyi’s hand trembled slightly as she held her. Xu Zhaosu’s knees had no strength left, propped up only by blood, tears shimmering in her eyes. She tilted her head up, gazing quietly at her in a self-tormenting way, as if afraid that closing her eyes would mean never seeing her again.

The ruler who held power over the heavens was only this humble when by her side.

Shi Qingyi fell silent for a long moment. Her heart churned in her chest, waves of wordless ache surging through her. After a while, she patted the woman’s gaunt back. A kiss landed softly on her temple as she said, “I will stay by your side.”

She made the vow before the gods and Buddhas of heaven and earth.

Finally receiving the promise she wanted, Xu Zhaosu collapsed into her arms like a deflated balloon. Her arms bore fresh red marks from her own grip. After a long while, warm tears soaked into her clothes. Bit by bit, she tightened her arms around her waist.

System: “Host, you don’t seem quite right.”

“There’s still five percent blackening value left. I’m just pursuing perfection.”

The System wanted to say more, but Shi Qingyi cut it off: “I can’t stay with her for too long.”

Her body was far too weak; she didn’t have many years left anyway. Whether she stayed or not, it was just a few years of lifespan. Her life was a long one—these worlds were merely places she had passed through, never meant for long stays.

But this world’s Xu Zhaosu made her heart ache.

That was the reason she couldn’t let go.

That night, under a sky of sparse stars and a bright moon, she carried Xu Zhaosu down the mountain. The woman’s arms were tightly looped around her neck, and it felt as if she could see the end of her life stretching out forever. In her half-dreaming, half-awake state, Xu Zhaosu still murmured her name: “A-Qing, don’t go, don’t go…”

“Don’t abandon me…”

That was the first time Shi Qingyi, after being a tool for scum missions for so long, felt a dull ache in her heart.

Later, Xu Zhaosu truly didn’t live much longer. They were together for three years, but her health deteriorated further. Before her death, she still clung to Shi Qingyi’s hand, refusing to let go. Shi Qingyi understood her wish and voluntarily took poison to die by her side.

Only then did the sovereign finally close her eyes.

Born together in the same quilt, dead together in the same tomb—as she wished.

The System dinged: “Blackening value cleared. Teleporting to the next world.”