Chapter 6: The State Preceptor Scheming to Overthrow the Court

Shi Qingyi also did not sleep well that night. In the middle of the night, the wind and snow battered the window, startling her awake from her dreams. She could no longer close her eyes, so she casually picked up a few memorials and reviewed them under the lamplight. Halfway through, she suddenly flung down the memorials, threw on only an outer robe, and hurriedly rushed out the door.

Crossing a corridor led to the main hall. The little palace maid on night duty was dozing sweetly with her head tilted. Shi Qingyi pushed open the door to the inner hall and immediately heard a bout of heart-wrenching coughs.

The slender girl in white robes leaned over the edge of the bed, half her body dangling off, her thin back trembling nonstop. She was clearly coughing terribly, yet due to her weakened state, even her voice was faint, so much so that it failed to wake the attendants on duty.

Xu Zhaosu’s arms propped on the bed grew increasingly weak. Just as she was about to pitch forward onto the ground, she suddenly fell into a warm, soft embrace.

The cool plum fragrance carried the eternal chill of the peaks of Zhongnan Mountain, enveloping her after so long. Xu Zhaosu’s five fingers unconsciously clenched tightly, her knuckles turning white. Her entire body stiffened for an instant, yet she couldn’t help continuing to cough softly.

A warm, soft hand stroked her emaciated back, somewhat clumsily and at a loss. The voice was close at hand, trembling slightly: “Imperial physician? Imperial physician! Summon the imperial physician!”

Xu Zhaosu suspected she had misheard. How could someone who remained unflinching even if Mount Tai collapsed before her lose control like this?

Xu Zhaosu was drenched in cold sweat. She had just had a nightmare that night—in it, she was still in the lightless dungeon, the lamps dim. Dark guards brought bloodied clothes from the border pass, begging her to leave the palace at once.

A thousand li away, in the harsh frontier wilderness, her only blood relative in this world had been felled by a hail of arrows, eternally sleeping beneath the ice and snow.

In that instant, grief and fear overwhelmed her heart. A sweetness filled her throat, and just as she was about to collapse, someone pulled her into their arms.

This person, once so familiar, whom she thought of day and night and cherished deeply, was also the one who had tormented and imprisoned her for a year, nearly driving her to death.

She fell back into boundless nightmare, beginning to tremble faintly. She could no longer distinguish dream from reality. Her five fingers clenched desperately as she lifted her head in near panic, trying to confirm something. But all she saw was a piercing emptiness—nothing at all.

After a long while, a warm palm gently covered her eyelids.

That voice was slightly hoarse: “Don’t look…”

Xu Zhaosu’s suspended heart suddenly plummeted like falling into an ice cellar, crashing from on high. Right—this was reality. Her legs would never function properly again, and her eyes might never clearly see anything.

Perhaps she would never see anything for the rest of her life.

Just then, a palace maid carried in a bowl of medicinal soup and timidly whispered at the bedside: “Your Majesty, the medicine is ready…”

A surging wave of hatred nearly drowned her senses in an instant. Xu Zhaosu located the bowl’s position by its fuzzy sound and swept her trembling hand across. The porcelain bowl shattered on the floor with a piercing crack.

Amid the panicked cries of the attendants nearby, the entire bowl splashed onto the person beside her.

The soup had just been taken off the stove and was still boiling hot—normally left to cool for a bit—but now it scalded directly onto flesh. The pain was imaginable.

In the instant the soup splashed, she felt her waist tighten as someone pulled her close, shielding her exposed arm. Then came a suppressed grunt of pain.

The entire Yuming Hall fell deathly silent. Everyone knelt in unison, not daring to speak. Only the bitter medicinal liquid dripped steadily onto the bluestone floor, like a sword hanging over everyone’s hearts.

The State Preceptor now held great power and was known for her obsession with cleanliness. No one knew how this would end.

Xu Zhaosu withdrew her hand and closed her eyes, a mocking chill curling her lips. What else could happen? At worst, she’d be thrown back into the Dark Prison. Could it be more despairing than that?

Just as everyone thought the State Preceptor would erupt in fury, she slowly stood, enduring the intense pain, and rasped: “Brew a new dose of medicine for Her Majesty.”

No one dared lift their head, only murmuring assent. The Medicine Apprentice had just returned from outside. Facing the wind and snow, he trembled inwardly as he stole a glance at the State Preceptor’s hand hidden in her sleeve.

Her slender fingers were scorched bright red, with severe blisters peeling skin in places. Hidden in the sleeve’s depths, they trembled faintly. He was horrified and was about to look again when a hoarse female voice from the inner hall rang out alongside the crash of something breaking: “Get out!”

The State Preceptor in plain robes paused slightly, her brows lowered, expression unreadable: “Clean up inside later. Don’t let her hurt herself.”

The Medicine Apprentice was stunned for a long moment before realizing she was speaking to him. He hastily murmured assent.

By the time he looked up, that figure in white had plunged into the continuous wind and snow, vanishing into the depths of the palace walls. For some reason, he suddenly recalled the intelligence he had just gathered.

The Eldest Princess’s whereabouts had indeed leaked, but the person had merely shelved it without ordering her execution.

—Who knew what tricks this traitorous thief was playing now.

The Medicine Apprentice scratched his head, baffled, but hurried into the inner hall. The Female Sovereign leaned against the bed’s edge, her beautiful features frozen in utmost coldness. Shattered porcelain littered the floor, several sour plums rolling amid the debris.

He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he felt as if a trace of mockery and weary ruthlessness lingered in Her Majesty’s closed-eyed expression.

—She had still left!

—

Shi Qingyi returned to Mingze Hall overnight and summoned the imperial physician to treat her scald. They roughly bandaged it.

It truly burned and truly hurt—from the back of her hand to her elbow, not a spot was spared. Severe areas had peeling skin, lighter ones were red and swollen. The treating physician broke out in cold sweat.

After packing away the medicine box, he pondered before speaking: “You should avoid certain foods lately and try not to get it wet. If it worsens, it could be troublesome.”

His voice was soft and cautious—what if it wasn’t handled well? His head would be on the line.

Shi Qingyi nodded slightly. Once the imperial physician and maids withdrew, the System’s voice appeared out of nowhere: “Why didn’t you dodge?”

Xu Zhaosu was blind; that strike wasn’t accurate at all, and her body was too weak for much force. Dodging would have been easy.

Shi Qingyi grimaced in pain but kept her face impassive, replying calmly: “I’ve abused her for nearly a year. Getting splashed with one bowl of medicine isn’t a big deal.”

The System expressed strong doubt. It simulated the scene again in its space and suddenly had an epiphany: “That strike was way off. If you’d just blocked it, the whole bowl would’ve splashed back on her!”

Shi Qingyi: “…”

If you didn’t say anything, no one would’ve taken you for mute, so no need to expose me.

Her one unburned hand shot out lightning-fast and slammed the close button. The System barely managed one last line on the screen.

—Shi Qingyi, you’re lashing out in shame!

—

In the blink of an eye, more than ten days passed. Early spring’s weather shifted unpredictably—blizzard just days ago, now the ice melted, presenting a scene of blooming warmth.

The System, having barely crawled out of its space last time, tearfully learned caution. After waiting over ten days with no action from this slacker, it finally couldn’t hold back: “How long are you going to wait?”

Shi Qingyi reviewed memorials with one hand and waved her left, wrapped tightly, without even lifting her eyelids: “Work injury.”

The System fell eerily silent, then its tone grew suspiciously gentle: “Does the scald hurt?”

“Nonsense.”

It hurt so much she wanted to wear a pain mask right there.

“Being burned alive hurts way more than a scald.”

Shi Qingyi: “…”

The System’s tone grew even kinder: “Need me to recap what Xu Zhaosu did after blackening?”

Shi Qingyi: “…”

Not much, really—just the standard blackened villain boss path: burning the heart-stealing, throne-usurping scum alive, burying their ashes under her palace walls, executing all past betrayers with extreme punishments, including but not limited to death by a thousand cuts with sandalwood or dismemberment by five horses—

For her tyranny, she was to be overthrown by the exiled princess protagonist, originally dying under the protagonist’s sword as the latter restored the kingdom. But she blackened too thoroughly; the protagonist died at the uprising’s start because her face resembled the scum’s.

Shi Qingyi: “…”

I think I can still be saved!

Shi Qingyi rubbed her aching temple, stubbornly stood, sighed, tossed aside the memorials, and headed straight for Yuming Hall.

The System reminded her in her mind: “Her blackening value is now 95. Because her aunt didn’t die, a sliver of kindness remains, but it’s still high. In these ten days, she’s driven away dozens of palace servants. Her temper’s grown more volatile and eccentric. Delay longer, and there’ll be no time left.”

Shi Qingyi pressed her forehead. She didn’t want to delay either, but Xu Zhaosu’s reaction that day had been too extreme, making her feel that Xu Zhaosu hated her to the bone—her mere presence unsettled her.

Mingze Hall and Yuming Hall were separated by just one wall. Crossing a covered walkway led to Yuming Hall.

Spring breeze opened the pear blossoms in an instant. Amid unmelted fine snow, snow-white trees bloomed. Yuming Hall’s plants had gone untended for a year; with spring’s revival, fresh green shoots emerged.

In the distance, on a mottled stone table, the slender, plainly dressed girl gritted her teeth, trying to stand using her arm strength. Her legs trembled violently, as if she’d collapse the next moment.

She finally supported herself shakily on the table but, blind, didn’t see the uneven puddle nearby. Just as she was about to tumble off, a hand suddenly steadied her tensed arm, letting her lean against it.

The faint, chilling fragrance hovered near and far. Her emaciated fingers gripped the supporting hand uneasily. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze dim and lightless, inexplicably mournful.

Only sunlight falling into her deep, icy eyes failed to illuminate any light within.

She couldn’t see.

In a flash, the white-robed State Preceptor deliberately lowered her voice, gently squeezing back her icy hand, and spoke softly.

“This servant is the palace maid newly sent by Nanny Shen to attend Your Majesty. My name is—A Yi.”