Under the bright lamplight, the Butterfly Golden Hairpin lay quietly, faint traces of blood lingering in the gaps of its gold filigree. Without close inspection, one might mistake them for mere dirt in the shadows.
“It’s the Empress’s possession.” Helian Jin recognized it; it was the one Ah Chu had worn the day she accompanied him to rest in Zichen Hall.
Cui Cheng said, “The Empress had no choice but to injure someone. She must have encountered some crisis.”
Helian Jin’s voice was grim and terrifying, like a malevolent ghost crawling out of hell. “Whose blood is this?”
“This servant does not know.” Cui Cheng felt a bone-chilling cold settle around them. “The Empress has been sullen since returning to the palace last night. Late into the night, she called for Little Lian several times to fetch hot water. I heard…”
“Heard what?”
“I heard the Empress bathed for a long time, as if she had been tainted by something filthy.” Cui Cheng’s voice grew quieter.
She had left His Majesty’s bedchamber—what else could she have been tainted by?
Tainted by His Majesty!
But this was merely unusual behavior; he was simply reporting it truthfully. It might have nothing to do with this hairpin.
Cui Cheng hurriedly continued. “After bathing and before retiring, the Empress was preoccupied, hesitating to speak several times. When she first fell asleep, she muttered a great deal.”
Helian Jin said nothing, waiting for Cui Cheng to continue on his own.
“She muttered about…” Cui Cheng glanced at His Majesty’s expression, only to find him standing with his back turned. He grew even more uncertain and began to stammer.
“Speak.” The voice sounded calm.
“She muttered things like going home.”
A ghostly night breeze swept through the Grand Hall, wailing as it rushed past.
Cui Cheng stuttered slightly, his mind racing to weave flattering words. “This servant thinks it must be that the Empress was bullied by someone and felt aggrieved, leading to such thoughts. Your Majesty cherishes her so; she surely knows it in her heart.”
Otherwise, why would she speak of abandoning her position as Empress to go home?
Under heaven, which patch of land was not His Majesty’s domain?
Even Funan, Mengyi, and Kangtai—conquered just these past two years—had submitted to His Majesty.
Where could the Empress possibly return to?!
“Summon Wei Shan.”
Helian Jin pressed his forehead and added, “Get out. Have Xue Gui bring the medicine.”
Sorrow welled in Cui Cheng’s heart. He thought of how Xue Gui had been entangled with Wei Shan these days, coaxing His Majesty into a daze. Fury rose within him, but he was at a loss for what to do.
He could only sigh and hurriedly withdraw.
Wei Shan entered Zichen Hall with his chin raised.
Xue Gui knelt outside, holding the medicine bowl and awaiting summons. Cui Cheng drew close and whispered harshly, “You little rascal, what mischief have you been up to with Wei Shan these days!”
“What mischief? Where does Master get such an idea?”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been sneaking around doing. Speak! Where does that medicinal scent on you come from?”
Xue Gui suddenly smiled. “Master, you meddle too much.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Wei Shan is insidious. The Empress is the apple of His Majesty’s eye. His Majesty is wise and mighty—not easily fooled. You’re risking your neck to help Wei Shan; let’s see if you live to enjoy the benefits he offers!”
Xue Gui said nothing, merely kneeling respectfully with the medicine.
Unable to persuade him, Cui Cheng let out a long sigh and turned to leave. Suddenly, Xue Gui spoke from behind. “You’ve served His Majesty for nineteen years—have you ever truly earned His trust? You’re timid and indecisive, forever doomed to tremble through menial tasks.”
Cui Cheng turned back and sneered. “I thought I’d raised a docile rabbit, but it turns out I’ve nurtured a hyena. Do your duty in your position; I serve His Majesty dutifully and seek nothing more.”
“You offended the Empress last night—do you think I didn’t know?”
Xue Gui fell silent.
“I didn’t expose you out of consideration for our years together, but if you’re in too deep and won’t heed advice, don’t blame me for being ruthless from now on.”
Only the night wind answered. Cui Cheng shook his head and departed, his figure desolate.
Inside the Grand Hall, Wei Shan knelt ramrod straight.
“The Daoist once said that a wandering soul entering the body inevitably causes turmoil and harm.”
Wei Shan lightly stroked his beard and spoke leisurely. “I’ve heard the Empress suddenly fell ill last night. Is she well now?”
Helian Jin leaned back in the grand chair, his tone betraying no emotion. “No such thing occurred.”
“The turmoil of a wandering soul harms the body. If the soul isn’t promptly stabilized, I’m afraid the Empress’s life hangs by a thread.”
“Is there a temporary remedy?”
Wei Shan kowtowed, then rose and presented a talisman. “This Poor Daoist foresaw the Empress’s peril tonight and specially prepared this to offer Your Majesty.”
The talisman was covered in snarling, twisting seal script. Helian Jin glanced at it.
“Burn this talisman, mix the ashes in yellow wine, and have the Empress drink it. Ensure no one approaches her for an hour, and all danger will dissipate.”
Helian Jin smiled faintly, neither taking it nor dismissing him. He simply stared at Wei Shan.
Wei Shan met those icy eyes, his hand trembling slightly. He hurriedly lowered his head, stepped forward, and placed the talisman on the desk.
“With the Empress by Zhen’s side, Daoist Wei has rendered great service. Zhen shall reward you.”
Wei Shan demurred. “This Poor Daoist dares not accept.”
The conversation in the Grand Hall was congenial, so when Wei Shan exited, a smile curved his lips.
Xue Gui shot him a glance before lowering his head and walking into the hall.
The Emperor didn’t so much as raise his eyes to look at him.
A quarter-hour passed before he finally tore his gaze from the memorials on his desk. He swept a look at Xue Gui, who was kneeling on the ground. “Bring it here.”
The medicine bowl was placed respectfully on the desk, right next to that sheet of bright yellow talisman.
The black medicinal broth was thick and viscous, its bitter stench overpowering. Xue Gui had been carrying it for so long that his nose stung with every breath.
He had no idea what the Emperor’s condition had been like these past years, but the rumors said he had mourned his late wife to the brink of madness—every time a splitting headache struck, he would down a bowl of this bitter draught.
Xue Gui tsked to himself twice.
Better if he’s gone mad. Madmen are easy to manipulate.
As the thought crossed his mind, Helian Jin reached out. But instead of taking the medicine, he picked up the talisman beside the bowl.
He held the slip of paper to the candle flame. The talisman burst into vigorous flames, emitting an eerie bluish-green glow that reflected in his eyes, lending them a sinister, terrifying cast.
Xue Gui’s breath caught in his throat.
The fire leaped high, then died down, leaving nothing but a chain of clinging ashes. Helian Jin tossed them into the medicine bowl, where they swiftly dissolved into the murky black sludge.
“Drink.”
The command made Xue Gui flinch back a step. In disbelief, he raised his head and met the Emperor’s sidelong glare.
“This slave… this slave dares not!”
Helian Jin rose to his feet, his tone light and casual, as if they were chatting about the weather. “Zhen is rewarding you.”
Xue Gui’s courage shattered. He stumbled back again and again until he had nowhere left to go.
Helian Jin advanced steadily, bowl in hand, towering over Xue Gui, who had collapsed to the floor in a trembling, snot-smeared, tear-streaked heap.
The Emperor’s gaze fixed on him like he was nothing more than a lump of rotting meat.
Xue Gui’s hair was seized in a brutal grip, yanking his head back. Then the entire bowl of thick, bitter medicine was forced down his throat. It burned his mouth and nose, choking him, but he didn’t even have a chance to cough. Helian Jin flung him aside, and he slammed hard into the wall.
The impact made him swallow the dregs still in his mouth. He retched violently, but nothing came up.
Can’t drink it! Can’t drink it!
Too late. A searing heat ignited in Xue Gui’s gut, waves of agony crashing through him like a tempest on the shore.
He lacked even the strength to rise. His fingers curled into claws, his legs went rigid, and his body twisted on the floor. Struggling, he craned his neck to stare up at the tall man.
The Emperor stood there in majestic silence, meticulously wiping his fingers clean.
It was the same hand that had just torn at his hair.
Helian Jin regarded the wretched figure before him with an impassive face, a cold gleam flickering in his eyes. He tossed the cloth aside in front of Xue Gui and grinned ferociously. “What’s the hurry? It’ll take a full hour to die properly.”
A gurgling rattle rose from Xue Gui’s throat, but no words would come. His eyes bored into the man like twin daggers dipped in venom.
Far from angered, the Emperor threw back his head and laughed with savage delight. But the sound was so wicked that even Xue Gui, teetering on death’s door, felt a chill grip his soul.
“Zhen let you linger a few extra days because Zhen wasn’t certain whether the Empress’s life was in your hands.”
Blood began trickling from Xue Gui’s nostrils.
He had warned Wei Shan not to be so reckless!
First, Wei Shan had dismissed Yun Jichu entirely, thinking a few threats would cow her into submission.
Then he had rushed to kill her, handing the Emperor the perfect opening!
All those days of playing at ghosts and gods had fooled the Emperor—or so they thought—into believing Yun Jichu’s soul and body were both under Wei Shan’s thumb.