Chapter 122: Sudden Occurrence

A delicate wine glass rested on the coaster. Though the cup was small, its contents were lethally potent. Please search for the most complete and fastest updates!

“It seems the queen is eager to claim my life; I never imagined things would come to this,” Yuxiao sighed—not out of self-pity, but simply stating a fact.

“You should know, Your Highness, even if the queen does not act, the king’s gaze tolerates no dust,” Miao Jian said ambiguously, his stern face revealing a hint of murderous intent.

“As for the king... I have always known, yet I was only deceiving myself. Now, I don’t even know what meaning my actions hold,” Yuxiao admitted honestly. The king had never provoked her nor given her any hope—she didn’t even have the right to hate him.

That, perhaps, was what truly angered her: she had always been nothing but dust in their eyes—ubiquitous dust that required no effort to brush away, and so they never cared.

Miao Jian said nothing further, lowering his head to complete the task the queen had assigned him.

Yuxiao, lost and forlorn, stood up. The palace attire she wore was tinged with a tragic, sorrowful hue. She lifted the small wine cup, a faint smile gracing her exquisite profile.

“I refuse to believe the queen truly wishes to kill me at such a time. The situation is tense now; although my family is not prominent, they are not so easily dismissed,” she spoke confidently, knowing well she had little chance—this was merely a struggle before death.

“Your Highness knows well; why then test me deliberately? To be frank, this is not the queen’s doing but the king’s,” Miao Jian’s words were icy, colder than the damp, chilling prison, each word piercing Yuxiao’s heart. “Before the king left, he instructed me that anyone who harms the queen may be executed immediately without report.”

Yuxiao’s expression darkened; the smile at the corner of her mouth vanished like smoke. “I did not realize the king’s favor for the queen had reached such depths. Had I known, I would not have been so soft-hearted.”

Yet, what could she have done if not be soft? From the beginning, she knew she could never be ruthless to that serene woman.

In this life, she did not even know what she was living for...

“The time has come. Please prepare to depart, Your Highness,” Miao Jian looked up at her, his cold face expressionless.

Hearing this, Yuxiao raised the wine cup, revealing a strange smile. “Miao Jian, I wonder why you resemble the king so closely—is it my illusion? Or is there a deeper secret hidden within this palace...”

She brought the cup to her lips, her red lips parting softly. The poisoned wine was drained completely. The smile on her mouth was like the poison itself—laden with malice and danger. “This answer may trouble you for some time. Why is he the king, while you are but a eunuch...”

There were many secrets in this palace, among them the tangled relations between the empress dowager, the former favored concubine, and the late emperor.

Miao Jian listened without stirring, until the wine cup slipped from Yuxiao’s hand, striking the floor with a crisp clink. She collapsed, her face etched with unwillingness and regret.

Miao Jian observed her expression, then simply curled the corner of his mouth faintly. “Consort Yu is dead.”

In less than five days since the king's departure, two high-ranking concubines died within the harem. Rumors spread quietly in the palace, suggesting the queen’s covert hand in these deaths.

Consort Yu had always been perceived as gentle, modest, and unassuming. Her sudden demise, accused of plotting to assassinate the queen, naturally aroused suspicion.

Whispers circulated, speculating who might be next.

But before the palace could stir further, the empress dowager in the Hui Residence suddenly fell ill.

---

Xue Blood went to the Hui Residence, where a heavy scent of medicinal herbs filled the bedchamber, causing her to frown—indeed, the empress dowager was truly ill this time.

Within the residence, palace maids tended diligently but spoke little; their actions lacked a trace of humanity.

When Xue Blood arrived, the empress dowager had already slipped into a deep sleep.

The imperial physician said it was heart fire aggravated by cold, worsened by age; nothing serious, just a matter of a few days’ rest.

“It seems not serious. I can rest easy now,” she murmured thoughtfully, unsure if the empress dowager’s illness was linked to Consort Yu.

Regardless, the empress dowager must remain unharmed. Considering Ji Wuqing’s attitude toward her, even if the empress dowager had done many unfavorable things to Ji Wuqing, she had allowed her to live safely until now—showing there was some maternal bond.

Yet, what grudge caused the empress dowager to resent Ji Wuqing so deeply? Though not biologically mother and son, didn’t the empress dowager raise Ji Wuqing into adulthood?

Given Ji Wuqing’s character, tolerating all the empress dowager’s secret deeds without outburst, it was clear he harbored other thoughts.

Half a month passed. The war between the Ji Kingdom and the Wu Kingdom showed no further developments. Though hostilities had begun, both sides remained in a standoff.

Every day, Xue Blood received a red, gold-embossed letter. Reading the letters had become a daily ritual.

Holding the letters felt as if Ji Wuqing were right beside her.

She thought perhaps she was bewitched—never before had she felt such deep longing.

She placed a couch beneath the plum blossoms. The day was fair, warm sunlight filtering through the branches, casting dappled light upon her face. A faint, gentle smile played around her lips, radiating warmth.

Suddenly, a breeze stirred, tilting the blanket at her feet.

A hand reached out, lifting the blanket and covering her abdomen. Yet in her arms, she clutched the letters as if they were treasures no one could take.

Ling Yin slowly crouched beside the couch, fingers pinching a corner of the blanket. “Mistress, be careful not to catch a chill.” His eyes were neither too close nor too far from Xue Blood’s face, and his words carried a hint of concern.

“Mm,” she responded, reclining and turning to face him. “I’ve never asked before—what kind of person were you?”

“Me? Probably a very lousy person,” Ling Yin hesitated. “So I was given a new life, trying to make amends.”

“Since you have a new life, then start anew,” she said, unaware whose soul Ling Yin’s spirit truly belonged to. She only knew the soul’s will to survive was resolute, which was why she chose him, and why he existed.

“Mm,” Ling Yin replied. Though he should be an emotionless clay figure, he always showed some tenderness toward Xue Blood.

Nearby, Yu Zhi carried tea and snacks, watching Ling Yin’s interaction with her mistress with a furrowed brow.

Looking up, she saw him in a pale blue robe, crouching beside the couch. The robe flowed gently to the floor like a soft river. His hand rested on the blanket with a simple motion that conveyed subtle intimacy.

In contrast, her mistress sat on the couch wearing a plain blue dress, a few strands of hair framing her face, exuding gentle grace.

Though their gestures seemed innocent, there was something unsettling.

Yu Zhi had only stepped away briefly but returned to witness this scene. Ling Yin seemed odd—his gaze toward her mistress was peculiar.

No man aware of rank and propriety would show such expression—satisfied yet gentle. This might seem insignificant to others, but Yu Zhi had never seen Ling Yin express any emotion beyond coldness, always as unfeeling as wood.

Yet, with her mistress, he revealed other feelings. It was no illusion.

Realizing this, Yu Zhi hurried over. “Mistress, these snacks were freshly made in the imperial kitchen. Please try them.”

She placed the snacks before Xue Blood, casually moving toward Ling Yin’s side—clearly signaling for him to give way.

Ling Yin glanced at Yu Zhi, showing no objection. He slowly rose, calm and composed, as if confident in his standing.

Yu Zhi also cast him a secret glance but dared not meet his eyes. Ling Yin seemed icy and aloof; his presence was imposing.

Still, she resolved quietly never to allow Ling Yin excessive contact with her mistress.

The next day, news arrived that the Ji and Wu kingdoms had formally entered battle.

In Anxue Palace, Xue Blood received the news but no letter from Ji Wuqing that day. A bad premonition crept into her heart, as if something unexpected had occurred.

She sat calmly in her chair, inwardly uneasy.

It felt as though a vital thread had snapped, impossible to reconnect.

At the border between the two kingdoms, separated by the Qin River.

In the Wu Kingdom’s camp, a temporary ceasefire and regrouping were underway.

Though no victor had emerged, Zuo Qiu Liye was satisfied with this battle because his goal had been achieved.

“My target is Xiaoxue. Since Ji Wuqing hides her within the palace, I must draw her out,” he declared. The news of Ji Wuqing’s severe injury had likely reached her ears—would she now resolutely come to this battlefield, a place meant for men?

“This plan is indeed feasible,” Elder Yue nodded, pleased with their recent plotting to undermine King Ji.

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