Chapter 7: The State Preceptor Scheming to Overthrow the Court

The space fell silent for an instant. Xu Zhaosu’s hand felt slightly cool, carrying the chill of early spring frost and snow. No one knew how long she had been holding on alone in this place.

Only upon closer inspection could one notice the mud and grass stains on the hem of her light-colored skirt. The plain white skirt below her knees was completely soaked, clinging tightly to her slender, long legs. In the biting spring winds of the third or fourth lunar month, it was imaginable just how piercingly cold it must have been.

Her legs had long since developed chronic issues from the pitch-black dungeon.

Shi Qingyi deliberately lowered her voice. “It’s damp and cold outside. This servant will help Your Majesty back.”

The hand gripping hers tightened unconsciously. After a long while, the Female Sovereign nodded slightly in assent.

There were stone steps beside the pavilion. The courtyard, neglected for a year, had grown a layer of moss after the rain. Xu Zhaosu, unable to see, nearly missed her step as soon as she placed her foot down. Fortunately, Shi Qingyi was supporting her, preventing a fall.

If she weren’t here right now, with no one passing through this desolate courtyard, who knew how Xu Zhaosu would have made it back to the inner hall alone?

“Your Majesty, please be careful,” Shi Qingyi said evenly, glancing sideways at Xu Zhaosu.

A bead of cold sweat gathered on the woman’s gaunt jawline under the sunlight. Her face remained proud and noble, but her grip on Shi Qingyi’s hand was deathly tight, nearly breaking the skin.

Xu Zhaosu’s legs were in poor condition; she had to rest after every few steps. In the end, she leaned half her body against Shi Qingyi and barely managed to return to Yuming Hall.

The hall carried the scent of burned-out sandalwood incense. Spring sunlight floated through the desolate palace, but no one was in sight.

Ever since emerging from the Dark Prison, Xu Zhaosu’s temperament had changed drastically. She flew into rages at the slightest provocation and regarded anyone who approached her with hostility. Apart from a few people, Yuming Hall now stood empty.

When Shi Qingyi had first heard of this, she fell silent for a long time before simply lowering her eyes and saying, “Let Her Majesty do as she pleases.”

Somehow, those words reached the Female Sovereign’s ears. That very night, Yuming Hall underwent a upheaval—things were smashed, people fled, leaving the Female Sovereign to sit alone amid the wreckage, nearly digging her nails into her own palms until they bled.

Shi Qingyi had known of these events but had never come to see her.

These recent reports flashed through Shi Qingyi’s mind as she helped the woman onto the soft couch in the inner hall. Just as she withdrew her hand to turn away, her wrist was suddenly seized.

She looked back. Half of the Female Sovereign’s face was shrouded in the sunlight, her expression indistinct. White gauze covered her eyes, and her voice suppressed a profound gloom. Her sharp fingertips nearly dug into Shi Qingyi’s veins.

“You’re leaving?”

The words came out one by one, squeezed through clenched teeth.

Shi Qingyi let her hold her wrist and gently reversed her grip in an intimate clasp. “Your Majesty’s robes are soaked through. This servant will fetch a change of clothes, or you’ll catch a chill.”

Her tone was unprecedentedly gentle and soft. Whether Xu Zhaosu believed her or not, she finally released her hand after a long pause.

This was probably the trauma from the Dark Prison—cold and ruthless on the surface, but fearful inside. Shi Qingyi thought for a moment, then drew closer again.

Just as Xu Zhaosu thought she had left, the woman returned and draped a still-warm cloak over her, tucking in the edges gently before departing.

Clutching the warm fox-fur cloak, Xu Zhaosu’s face showed no warmth—only sarcasm and exhaustion.

After all these years, this person still couldn’t lie convincingly. The servants in Yuming Hall and Mingze Hall were always personally selected; that so-called Nanny Shen only oversaw cleaning. How could she have authority over staffing in these halls?

She had always deceived and lied so brazenly, knowing full well that Xu Zhaosu would believe her.

But just because she didn’t speak of many things didn’t mean she was ignorant of them.

Including that sudden palace coup a year ago—she had received prior warnings but dismissed them, believing Shi Qingyi incapable of it. That woman was like a moon fallen to earth, unstained by dust. How could she crave power?

Xu Zhaosu had poured her heart into her, willing to yield the entire world. How could she treat her this way?

Later, she realized it had all been her own wishful thinking.

What was she after this time with her feigned closeness? She clearly had nothing left.

The Female Sovereign lowered her gaze, her vacant sight fixed on some point in space. Apart from bone-deep hatred, what else did she have worth Shi Qingyi’s schemes?

—

Unlike the complexity in Xu Zhaosu’s heart, Shi Qingyi was earnestly selecting clothes. But Yuming Hall had been neglected too long; recent acquisitions were incomplete, leaving mostly old items.

Among them was a pink palace gown made from satin she had brought from Zhongnan Mountain for Xu Zhaosu’s birthday one year. Smooth and lustrous, its delicate cloud patterns on the edges were embroidered with gold thread—perfect for this season.

When she returned with the garment, Xu Zhaosu hadn’t moved an inch, seemingly lost in a daze. Hearing the sound, she turned her head slightly. If she could see through the thin gauze, she would have caught the indescribable shock in Xu Zhaosu’s eyes that instant.

—She hadn’t expected Shi Qingyi to return at all.

The hall’s charcoal fire burned steadily. Shi Qingyi set down the gown and naturally reached for the woman’s waist to untie the sash, but her hand froze mid-air.

…

What was this? Undressing her? Removing her skirt?

Shi Qingyi’s expression turned peculiar. Withdrawing her hand felt wrong; leaving it felt wrong too.

On any other day, she might have summoned someone. After all, with the spring chill and soaked clothes clinging to her frail body, Xu Zhaosu would likely be bedridden for days. But nowadays, she refused entry to the inner hall.

Shi Qingyi quietly withdrew her hand and turned away. “Your Majesty…”

Ice instantly chilled Xu Zhaosu’s eyes. As expected, even if she still wanted something from her, she loathed her this much—couldn’t even pretend.

—Shi Qingyi probably had no interest in women. Enduring her back then for power had already been a stretch; now, even more so.

But she had nothing left now. She wouldn’t let her have her way.

“Help Us disrobe.”

Shi Qingyi’s breath hitched. After a moment, she turned back, her arm encircling the woman’s overly emaciated waist. She tugged one end of the sash, fingers deftly untying it.

She had lost so much weight; her waist was truly a mere handful. The gown scattered like fallen petals on the couch. Azure tresses draped over her shoulders, revealing pale collarbones and the white inner robe beneath. A spring breeze wafted in from outside; fearing she would get cold, Shi Qingyi bundled a quilt around her before steeling herself to reach for the final thin layer.

Xu Zhaosu was deliberately making things difficult, expecting her to find an excuse to flee. She prepared a cold laugh, but Shi Qingyi actually proceeded. As her hand reached again, Xu Zhaosu instinctively blocked her chest.

Shi Qingyi immediately tried to retract. “Shall Your Majesty do it herself?”

But the hand blocking her chest seized hers instead, pressing it to the neckline, fingertips against warm collarbone, a faint tremble.

Her voice remained icy, word by word: “Us said, help Us disrobe—”

She wanted to see how long Shi Qingyi could endure—this person was the epitome of fastidiousness, aloofness, and aversion to closeness. In the past, no matter her efforts, she couldn’t get near.

Heat crept up Shi Qingyi’s face inch by inch, but she sighed silently in the end, averting her eyes to undo the last restraint—no sense leaving soaked clothes on.

Her face burned fiercely; she didn’t dare glance around. She hastily pulled up the quilt and cloak, wrapping her tightly. With the charcoal fire burning, the room was warm enough. Shi Qingyi handed her a hand warmer after removing the gown, then lowered her eyes to examine her legs.

Xu Zhaosu’s frostbite was worst on her hands, feet, and legs—large patches of dark purple bruises marred her pale skin, a horrific sight.

Shi Qingyi gently wiped them with a warm brocade cloth to restore warmth. Seeing the woman’s frostbitten, broken skin on her legs filled her with heartache.

In her previous life, she had never seen these. She had been burned to death directly and didn’t know the depths of Xu Zhaosu’s despair or how she had endured this past year.

Later, blinded and crippled, her psyche twisted—Shi Qingyi truly hadn’t treated her as human.

With these thoughts, an indescribable guilt surged. She set aside the cloth and gathered Xu Zhaosu’s stiff, slender pale legs into her embrace to warm them. They felt like two blocks of ice against her shoulders.

“Is Your Majesty warmer now?”

Xu Zhaosu was utterly stunned. Her nearly frozen blood suddenly boiled, as if yanked from the icy plains onto a roaring fire. The heart in her chest, once chilled beyond thawing, seemed to roil in molten lava. The disorienting clash of ice and fire made her tremble uncontrollably. Her arms braced against the couch edge; dizziness assaulted her vision.

She tried to clear her head, fingers trembling to find the person beside her, seeking something solid to prove it wasn’t an illusion. But lying at the couch’s edge, she nearly tumbled off.

“Your Majesty, be careful.” Shi Qingyi barely caught her falling half-body. The cloak had slipped open, exposing a dazzling expanse of pale jade skin—flawless, exquisitely curved. Shi Qingyi instinctively wanted to look away but was gripped tightly by the wrist.

The scent was hers—the familiar cold plum fragrance. But how, how could—

Shi Qingyi had always been aloof and unapproachable. Even when flattering her before, she never allowed closeness, let alone embrace her now and personally wash and wipe her legs. How could she stoop so low—

At that moment, urgent footsteps sounded outside the hall. The doors burst open, and Shi Qingyi instinctively pulled Xu Zhaosu fully into her arms, shielding her completely before coldly glaring toward the entrance.

In the sunlight, the Medicine Apprentice at the doors dropped his bowl of medicine, shattering it to pieces. He stared in shock at the scene inside.

The Female Sovereign’s crimson gown lay scattered messily on the floor, long hair over her shoulders. Disheveled, she nestled in the white robes of the State Preceptor, legs draped behind the State Preceptor’s waist. The woman who should have been handling state affairs in Mingze Hall now stared at him coldly.

Her gaze was like knives and swords—clearly displeased at the interruption.

Under that piercing stare, he bowed his head. Water splashed everywhere on the floor, light and shadow shifting. Among the disarrayed skirts was the Female Sovereign’s inner robe, newly delivered days ago.

His knees buckled, and he knelt, hands trembling against the ground.

Xu Zhaosu had ascended at thirteen and ruled steadily for years, always composed and dignified. She had never faltered except here, her personality proud—yet utterly compliant with her.