Chapter 3: The State Preceptor Scheming to Overthrow the Court

Xu Zhaosu had imagined many possibilities. Her actions might alert Shi Qingyi, who would strike first or send her to an even more heavily guarded prison, severing her ties to the outside world.

—The one thing she had never considered was that Shi Qingyi would bring her back to Yuming Hall.

Yuming Hall had been built by her father emperor for her mother empress, separated from the Mingze Hall, where state affairs were handled, by only a single wall.

Later, after her father and mother passed away, she had never appointed an inner consort.

When Shi Qingyi returned from the mountains, she had extensively renovated Yuming Hall and gifted it to her as a residence.

The young Female Sovereign had once harbored aspirations, offering everything she could lay her hands on to the woman who seemed like an exiled immortal descended into the mortal world.

Of course, she had her selfish motives back then. It wasn’t just about using Yuming Hall to express her feelings, comparing her own affections to those her father had held for her mother. It was also because Yuming Hall neighbored the Mingze Hall where she resided, allowing them to meet at any time.

—Meet at any time.

Xu Zhaosu nearly let out a mocking laugh. She had been dreaming back then.

Daily encounters filled with affection were impossible. Instead, the Female Sovereign faced closed doors and bruised egos as her daily reality.

But how foolish she had been. Even when so thoroughly ignored, she treasured every visit. Ten attempts might yield one meeting, and ten meetings might earn a single cup of tea brewed by that person’s own hands—and she savored it.

She had savored it then. Now, every recollection tasted like poison seeping into her lungs.

Back when she was of noble status, Yuming Hall had been nearly impossible to enter. Now, fallen to this state, she could waltz right in—and not just into the outer hall, but straight into the inner chambers, lying on her bed.

Xu Zhaosu had once fantasized about Shi Qingyi’s bed.

—Of course, she had only dared to fantasize. Back then, even getting her two legs through the hall doors had been a stroke of luck.

Xu Zhaosu couldn’t help drawing in a sharp breath. Pain stabbed somewhere deep, nearly suffocating her. The more it hurt, the more she hated—hated to the point where she wanted to flay the person beside her, dismember her, and scatter her remains to the winds—

Then, a pair of ice-cold hands covered her eyes. A woman’s voice sounded close by, gentle and cold from the depths of her memories.

Soon after came the imperial physician, approaching on trembling knees.

Shi Qingyi stood expressionlessly outside Yuming Hall, contemplating life. Just one wall away lay the person who would kill her a month from now.

Back then, she had only needed to play the role of a death-seeking scumbag, never considering the consequences. Now, retribution had come suddenly and without mercy.

—Xu Zhaosu’s eyes had developed severe issues from spending a full year in the dark underground prison. She likely couldn’t adapt to normal light levels for the time being.

In short, she would be blind for a while, and for the rest of her life, she probably couldn’t be exposed to strong light.

—But the most severe problem wasn’t her eyes; it was her legs.

The prison deep in the secret passages was bone-chillingly cold. She had stayed there too long, and the cramped space combined with the chains had forced her to crawl on her knees like livestock.

Shi Qingyi inevitably recalled the scene she had witnessed earlier while personally applying medicine to Xu Zhaosu.

Emaciated to the point of skin clinging to bones—like a skeleton draped in a thin layer of flesh and blood—her body bore not a single intact patch of skin. Her legs and arms, the most severely abraded, no longer resembled their former fair smoothness.

Mixed with dirt and gravel, the mangled flesh had to be cut away inch by inch. The Female Sovereign, accustomed to fine silks and delicacies, clenched her teeth without a single groan escaping, though cold sweat drenched her forehead.

Fortunately, it was winter. In summer, the wounds might have festered, and her life would have hung in the balance. Even in winter, it was no easy ordeal—frostbite and bruises covered her from head to toe, leaving scarcely an inch of intact skin. She was almost unrecognizable as human.

Shi Qingyi: “…”

For the first time, she acutely realized that she had truly been courting death.

Then, she couldn’t help recalling the original plot trajectory of this world.

A month after her escape, Xu Zhaosu broke through the Imperial City, leading two hundred thousand border troops to storm the Forbidden Palace. The once merciful Female Sovereign turned utterly tyrannical, slaughtering every resistor along the way, leaving mountains of corpses and seas of blood in her wake—nearly massacring the entire city.

As the chief culprit who had plotted to usurp the throne and reduced Xu Zhaosu to this state, Shi Qingyi’s fate was to be burned alive.

Surrounded by chaotic soldiers and driven into Yuming Hall, the outer walls doused in oil, ignited by Xu Zhaosu’s own hand.

She had stood before the very Yuming Hall she once gifted, snow behind her stained red with blood, her pitch-black eyes utterly frigid as she watched the inferno rage, flames devouring everything into ashes.

Shi Qingyi didn’t want to recall that memory at all. The moment the blaze erupted, she had scrambled back to the main god’s space.

—Yet the terror of those flames rushing toward her face was etched indelibly into her mind.

Vaguely, she seemed to hear Xu Zhaosu’s voice—but it was probably just an illusion.

Shi Qingyi shuddered involuntarily. If she failed this time, she would truly be burned to ashes.

Suppressing her inner collapse, Shi Qingyi returned to the inner hall. The snow that had stopped in the afternoon began falling again in scattered flakes, dusting her brows and eyes with bone-piercing chill.

The person on the plain bedding had been changed into soft nightclothes, visibly much thinner than a year ago. Shi Qingyi approached step by step, her mind racing through a thousand thoughts. Then, with near-terror, she noticed that the white gauze over the woman’s eyes on the bed had silently soaked through.

—She was crying?

Shi Qingyi’s eyelid twitched. She froze for a moment, and before her chilled hand from the cold outdoors could react, it gently touched her eye corner. Her voice carried a bewilderment she herself hadn’t noticed.

“Why are you crying?”

—Perhaps she really ought to cry. Deceived in both heart and throne by a scumbag like her, rendered psychologically and physically blind. Just as she was about to escape her misery, she was dragged back—and promptly hit with the devastating news that her legs would bear lifelong ailments, possibly even disabilities, with her eyes temporarily sightless.

—It was truly miserable.

Even Shi Qingyi, scripted as a heartless scumbag, found it tragic. A strange emotion akin to pity and guilt welled up inexplicably in her heart.

Though she was just following the script, it was undeniably her who had ground the woman down to this point…

Her icy fingers trailed from brow to hair, gently removing the white gauze over her eyes—revealing a face utterly devoid of expression.

Shi Qingyi: “…”

To match her aloof State Preceptor image, her palace was a sea of pristine white, without a speck of other color—bright enough to sting the eyes.

Xu Zhaosu’s eyes couldn’t tolerate any light, so it wasn’t anguish or despair; it was simply uncontrollable physiological tearing.

—What kind of idiot was she to think a fully blackened person would be this fragile and vulnerable?

Yet when the thin covering was lifted from her eyes, she inevitably showed a trace of discomfort, turning her head slightly aside—a rare evasive gesture.

Shi Qingyi silently placed her hand over Xu Zhaosu’s eyes, knowing they must ache. She kept her movements feather-light.

Beneath her palm, the slender lashes trembled faintly, brushing her palm with a hazy dampness before stiffening.

After a pause, she pressed her hand down fully, blocking every sliver of light from her eyes. Pretending to notice nothing, she turned her head slightly to survey her snow-white palace and spoke coolly and concisely to the attendant nearby: “Change it.”

The attendant started slightly but wisely refrained from questioning.

With those terse words, the palace she had lived in for two years was entirely replaced within a quarter-hour.

The glaring pristine whites were all swapped out, even the bright lamps shrouded in black gauze. The hall dimmed to a subdued gloom until it no longer stung. Only then did she lift her hand from Xu Zhaosu’s eyes.

Warmth and dampness lingered in her palm. The woman remained utterly silent, offering not a word.