But the Emperor was far too perceptive. The moment Wei Shan revealed his murderous intent, it would be noticed!
If they truly had her under control, why act like cornered dogs, jumping at walls and relying on others’ hands?
Regret gnawed at Xue Gui. If only he had convinced Wei Shan to bide their time and play the long game—their grand ambition might yet have succeeded!
Helian Jin paced slowly, the hem of his robes whispering against the golden bricks in the still night air.
Xue Gui could no longer make out the sound. Blood had begun seeping from his ears.
“Zhen would never gamble with the Empress’s life.”
Xue Gui caught those words clearly amid the haze.
Indeed. Before he had confirmed Wei Shan’s deceptions, the Emperor had watched in silence. Even Cui Cheng had detected nothing, convinced the two of them had the Emperor dancing to their tune.
Once the truth was clear…
It hurt. Gods, it hurt. His entire body felt devoured by swarms of ants and insects, his organs scorching like they were ablaze.
Yet he couldn’t utter a sound—no pleas for mercy, no cries for help. Had no one been watching, they might have thought his passing peaceful.
Xue Gui’s fingers scraped at the golden bricks until his nails snapped off, bloody flesh exposed beneath. He ground his teeth nearly to powder.
How had the Emperor known the talisman was poisoned?
Wei Shan, oh Wei Shan—with my death, yours is coming soon!
Helian Jin took a few more unhurried steps, then paused as if struck by a sudden thought. With keen interest, he said, “Do you know? Zhen’s Empress has truly returned.”
What?
Pain consumed Xue Gui; he had no strength left for thought. He stared at the Emperor’s face—that devilishly handsome visage now alight with profound satisfaction.
“She has returned,” Helian Jin murmured, no longer sparing Xue Gui a glance. “Not some wandering soul possessing a body.”
“Not ensnared by crooked sorcery.”
“She… has come back to us whole and intact.”
Blood bubbled from Xue Gui’s mouth, pooling across the golden bricks and mirroring the Emperor’s near-mad expression.
Wasn’t Yun Jichu just like Yun Lin’er—a complete fake?
Helian Jin swayed unsteadily for a moment, pressing a hand to his temple. With an evil grin, he ascended the steps and drew the treasure sword from its sheath.
He advanced slowly, gripping the sword, its blade scraping against the golden bricks. This time, Xue Gui heard it all too clearly.
It was excruciatingly shrill…
“You lot won’t separate Zhen from Ah Chu.”
“Ah Chu… can only…” Helian Jin’s words came out haltingly.
Xue Gui summoned every ounce of strength to shift aside, but his body remained rigid. He could only lie there, frozen, watching the Emperor draw nearer with each step.
The Emperor muttered incomprehensible nonsense as he thrust the blade into Xue Gui’s legs and arms—every spot except the vital points.
The sword twisted deep in the flesh, scraping against the bones clinging to skin and sinew.
It hurt so much. So much!!!
Xue Gui blacked out several times, only to be jolted awake by the agony.
Death—please, just let him die! Give him a quick end!
His mind screamed the plea, but all he could do was watch the Emperor lose himself to madness.
And yet, if it was madness, why were the Emperor’s strikes so precise? Each one kept Xue Gui clinging to life, forcing him to endure the poison’s torment.
In his despair, Xue Gui suddenly recalled Cui Cheng’s words: The Consort was the apple of His Majesty’s eye. The Emperor wasn’t one to be easily deceived.
His current wretched state was exactly what he and Wei Shan had plotted for Yun Jichu.
The Emperor was gripped by belated fear.
The more Xue Gui suffered, the more terrified—and furious—the Emperor became.
That was Xue Gui’s final, hopeless thought.
At last, after an eternity, darkness enveloped him. The blood pooling beneath him spread like an ocean. As his lifeblood drained away, the poison ran its full course.
Xue Gui breathed his last.
In the hour of the Ox.
Cui Cheng knelt in Zichen Hall, tears streaming down his face as he scrubbed at the bloodstains.
He tossed aside the rag and staggered to the corpse—no, what lay there could scarcely be called a corpse anymore. It was a pile of mangled flesh.
Cui Cheng averted his eyes and kicked it viciously several times, all while wiping at his tears. “You wouldn’t listen! You just wouldn’t listen! What the hell got into you?!”
“Wahhh…”
Exhausted from sobbing, he picked up the rag again and resumed scrubbing on his knees.
Some time later, Cui Cheng tidied himself up. Clutching the Emperor’s nightclothes, he slipped behind the screen.
His Majesty was soaking in the bath barrel, the fresh scent of tea filling the steamy air. He reclined with eyes closed, his refined features glowing ethereally in the dim lamplight, his broad chest half-emerging from the water.
Amid the rising vapors, his elegant poise was impeccable. No one could possibly imagine that the gruesome mess had come from his hand.
“It’s been handled,” Cui Cheng reported flatly.
Cui Cheng dropped to his knees with a thud. “This slave… deserves death.”
The Emperor chuckled softly. “You do deserve death.”
Fresh tears welled up and spilled over. Cui Cheng kowtowed repeatedly. “This slave… this slave…”
He didn’t know where to begin. Should he confess to withholding information that had endangered the Consort? Or beg for mercy based on years of loyal service at the Emperor’s side?
“You deserve death, yet fortune smiles on you.” Helian Jin opened his eyes and glanced at him. “The Empress holds you in high regard—whether back in the Prince’s Mansion or here in the palace now, she treats you differently from the other servants.”
“Zhen will not kill you.”
“Only because Zhen does not wish to see the Empress frightened or heartbroken.”
“Begone.”
Cui Cheng was too choked up for words of gratitude, terrified the Emperor might change his mind. He hastily set down the nightclothes and fled Zichen Hall.
He bowed repeatedly toward the Side Hall, then tilted his head to gaze at the full moon overhead. For an instant, it seemed to drip blood. He wiped his face frantically and hurried away, head bowed.
Toward the end of the hour of the Ox.
The Imperial Palace stood majestic under the pale moonlight, serene yet foreboding.
Yun Jichu slept soundly, clutching the little tiger doll to her chest.
Suddenly, the doll was snatched away. Before she could reach for it, strong arms seized her waist, drawing her into a broad embrace. Skin met skin as the man’s potent aura enveloped her completely.
In her drowsy haze, Yun Jichu couldn’t tell if this was a dream or reality. She pushed weakly at him. “Stop fooling around—”
Before she could finish, soft lips captured hers in a gentle kiss. They brushed and teased, tongues meeting in a tentative dance—tender and restrained. Heat bloomed through her body, drawing soft moans from her throat.
Her hands fumbled instinctively for his collar and belt, but in her half-awake state, she couldn’t find purchase.
The man guided her hand to one end of his belt. He deepened the kiss, shifting their position from side by side to him looming over her.
Yun Jichu’s thoughts scattered in a whirlwind of desire.
This had to be a dream—just like that night years ago.
She tugged his belt loose and rested her hand on his waist.
A scorching heat pressed against her thigh. Her breaths came in gasps as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The kisses turned fervent, from soft presses to urgent nips.
“Mm…”
Emboldened like never before, the man released her lips and trailed downward, nipping at the ties of her skirt.
Her pearl-white gown and his dark nightclothes slipped to the floor, tangled indistinguishably.
As the danger drew perilously close, Yun Jichu cried out in shock. Sleep fled her instantly, and she opened her eyes.
“Your Majesty?”
“Ah—”
Yun Jichu retreated again and again before realizing they were both completely bare. She yanked the thin quilt over herself, her chest heaving with uneven breaths.
Helian Jin seemed to shake off his dazed stupor, his gaze sharpening into clarity.
“Ah Chu doesn’t want to.”
It was another simple statement of fact.
Traces of wetness from Helian Jin still lingered on Yun Jichu’s body. She discreetly wiped them away with the quilt, her mind a tangled whirlwind. “I… Your concubine, your concubine…”
Before she could finish, Helian Jin began dressing.
He put on his clothes in silence and did not leave. Instead, he leaned forward, scooped her up, and settled her on the inner side of the bed. Then, with the quilt still between them, he drew her into his arms and lay down.
Helian Jin pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, his voice soft and reassuring. “Don’t be afraid.”
Was this just chaste companionship?
Yun Jichu’s heart eased a little, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief.
A sudden memory flickered through her mind—of the scar she had glimpsed on Helian Jin’s chest as he dressed. Moonlight had made it hard to see clearly, but the wound looked deep, far from healed.
The ordeal of his recent illness had drained her utterly, leaving no room for further worries amid the chaos in her thoughts. Besides, the clean, soothing scent of tea on his skin lulled her senses. Within moments, she drifted off to sleep.
The furrowed brows of the woman in his arms smoothed out, her body gradually softening against him. The feverish heat and urges churning within Helian Jin slowly ebbed away.
Propping himself up on one elbow, Helian Jin gazed at her for a long, long time.
Her steady, gentle breaths washed over him like a tender tide, cleansing his sin-stained body and pulling him from the endless cycle of karmic torment.
The reek of blood and filth faded, replaced by a faint, tranquil fragrance.
After what felt like an eternity, Helian Jin leaned down and pressed his left ear to Yun Jichu’s chest through the thin quilt.
Her vibrant heartbeat thrummed against him like an axe cleaving through his inner demons, strike by strike.