Chapter Eighty-Six: Bound Together Unto Death

The little stream nestled trustingly in Blood Snow’s embrace, her small body wriggling restlessly. She lifted her tiny face to peer at her mother, her delicate hand cautiously touching Blood Snow’s cheek.

“Mother, why do you cover your eyes?” Her little hand reached for the silken ribbon covering her mother’s eyes, curiosity written across her face. But what she felt was wet and sticky—something like fresh blood.

“Mother, are you hurt? And… your face is so cold, colder than the snow outside.”

Startled, the child cried out in her soft, trembling voice.

Blood Snow caught her small hand, bringing it to her nose. Indeed, there was a faint scent of blood. She couldn’t tell whether the poison in her body dulled her senses, or if the taste of blood had simply become too familiar.

“Don’t worry, Xier. Mother is just sick. You mustn’t tell anyone, all right?” she soothed gently, wiping the blood from the little hand.

She had always thought it was merely tears that fell from her eyes, never expecting that they were tears of blood. If others saw her like this, it would surely frighten them. No wonder the servants attending her had dwindled, leaving only Yu Zhi by her side.

She sighed softly. Perhaps this tribulation was a test meant for her.

Snow had fallen endlessly for days, draping the palace in a blanket of white. The lawns nearby, the distant towers—everywhere, nothing but dazzling whiteness.

She had Yu Zhi move her couch by the window, which stood open, letting the cutting chill pour in. She lay there, clothed only in a white sleeping robe, with no blanket or shawl to cover her, exposed to the icy wind.

“My lady, how can you endure such cold?” Yu Zhi looked at her pale face with concern. In recent days, her mistress had been tormented by pain, growing ever thinner and paler.

“It’s nothing. I just want some air,” she replied, facing the window.

Though the wind was bitter enough to freeze the bones, she did not feel cold. Instead, the pain within her seemed to ease, and her mind felt clearer.

But she knew it was only an illusion. Her body was no longer what it once was. Her senses were nearly lost—she could barely see, barely hear, her voice was weak, her sense of smell dulled, and everything she tasted was tinged with bitterness.

This, indeed, was a kind of torment…

She drifted in her thoughts when a tall figure silently appeared, casting a shadow over her. He stood by the couch, noting the faint animation in her expression, better than in previous days, though the black silk ribbon had been soaked through with bloody tears.

He bent to untie the ribbon from her eyes, revealing a pair of closed lids beneath.

She only realized his arrival when he reached for the ribbon. She turned slightly, opening her eyes to reveal bloodstained orbs, their pupils as deep and red as rubies.

“Ziqing, is that you?” she asked softly, her voice frail.

Seeing his reflection flicker in her ghostly red eyes, he finally allowed himself a slight smile.

“In such cold, aren’t you afraid of catching a chill?” He sat on the edge of her couch and gently gathered her into his lap, letting her lean against him.

“I’d rather it was only a fever,” she murmured, a wry smile on her lips.

“Nothing will happen to you. Zuoqiu Linye is just using the Empress Dowager and the people of Xiliang to force my hand. His aim is you—he would never let harm befall you. And I would never allow it.” He lay back, holding her close.

The woman in his arms was cold as ice, as if she were a block of frozen jade that could not be warmed.

“I’m so cold, you shouldn’t hold me,” she protested, trying to pull away. Her body was strange—hot inside, cold outside. She feared he would be uncomfortable holding her.

“I’m warm,” he said quietly, knowing she lacked the strength to resist.

Blood Snow fell silent. Though his warmth could not reach her, his embrace brought her peace.

“You just mentioned the Empress Dowager and the people of Xiliang. Are they involved in this as well?” If it was the Empress Dowager, she would believe it. But Xiliang… Had she misjudged them?

“You may not know, but the Lady of Xiliang has long harbored feelings for Zuoqiu Linye. He knew to move her with affection. As for the Empress Dowager, she never misses a chance to interfere.” Though he spoke lightly of the two women, his handsome face was cold as ice.

He knew well how much effort they had put into this affair. No one involved would escape the consequences, whether their intentions were deliberate or not.

Blood Snow listened quietly, her thoughts growing muddled.

At last, she gave up pondering these matters. “What poison have I been given? Is there any cure?” She knew it was a futile question. If Zuoqiu Linye had struck, he must be determined to force their submission; the poison would not be easily dispelled.

“You’ve been afflicted with a type of venomous parasite. If I’m not mistaken, it’s called Blood Tears.”

Blood Tears was a rare and insidious parasite, a true marvel among poisons.

Once infected, the victim knows only suffering: a burning heat within, icy cold without, as though turned to lifeless ice. Pain wracks the body at intervals, injuring the heart and veins, blood surging to the eyes until blindness follows, bloody tears streaming endlessly, the transformation rendering the sufferer terrifying to behold.

At his words, Blood Snow unconsciously nestled deeper into his robe. She had heard of Blood Tears—there was no cure. Still…

“Will you send me to Zuoqiu Linye?” she asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.

Since the poison was of his making, the cure must lie with him. If she wished to be free of this torment, she would have to submit, which was precisely his intention.

“I cannot let you go.” He could not bear her suffering, nor could he bear to see her used by Zuoqiu Linye.

“Ziqing, even if it means death, I will not leave you. Besides, this parasite does not kill; it only brings endless, inhuman torment.”

He held her tighter, arms encircling her waist. “How could I ever let you go?” he whispered, pressing his lips to her blood-red eyes.

Those jewel-like eyes bewitched his thoughts.

His beloved would remain by his side forever, no matter how the world coveted her.

Hui Studio.

The palace courtyard, planted with bamboo, lay shrouded in snow. Orchids along the wall were buried beneath the drifts, leaving only a vast, desolate whiteness.

Everyone in Hui Studio knew that the Empress Dowager had seldom chanted sutras these past days. The Buddha hall was silent; no chanting, no sound of wooden fish. The Empress Dowager was preoccupied with other matters—copying scriptures to pray for the Queen’s recovery.

In her study, she wrote the cryptic lines with unwavering focus. Her brush moved swiftly, filling a page in no time.

She was not doing this for appearances, but simply to pass the time. Besides, all these years of piety were not an empty pretense—the sutras had truly sunk into her heart, though she could never find enlightenment.

“Your Majesty, Consort Jade has already left,” Yun Dao entered to report.

He could not understand why, after waiting an hour outside, the Consort had not been admitted.

“She is clever enough, but at times stubbornly refuses to see sense. I had hoped she would remain by my side, but she is always hesitant, always holding back. How can one accomplish great things with such an attitude?” The Empress Dowager sighed, disappointment clear in her voice.

“Your Majesty, perhaps the Consort is simply deeply devoted to His Majesty. Did you not say yourself that her love must be turned to hate—then she will be wholly ours to command,” Yun Dao offered quickly, hoping to comfort her.

“That was my thought once. But look—so much time has passed, yet she is unchanged. I can wait no longer.” She continued copying the scripture, her hand never pausing.

Yun Dao did not respond, only stood silently, listening.

“Moreover, now that the Queen is gravely ill, she does not grasp the opportunity. Even if I wished to help her, I could not.”

“Perhaps the Consort believes the Queen’s illness is nothing unusual, so…”

“Indeed. Must I spell it out for her—that the Queen is not merely ill, but stricken with a fatal parasite—before she realizes what must be done?” The Empress Dowager’s agitation was clear; even her writing had paused.

“Calm yourself, Your Majesty!” Yun Dao, frightened by her outburst, hastily knelt in fear.

“Enough, let us speak no more of Jade Xiao. She only vexes me.” With that, she resumed writing, anger still lingering on her face. “And what of Wu Jun—has he indicated his intentions?”

“Rest assured, Your Majesty. We played no small part in poisoning the Queen. Our sincerity has been shown; Wu Jun should respond in kind.” At the mention of business, Yun Dao answered promptly.

“Hmph, the boy from Wu is exceedingly arrogant. This is Jiguo’s territory, and yet he acts so brazenly. Even I, the Empress Dowager, he does not regard.” She snorted coldly, clearly displeased with Zuoqiu Linye.

“Your Majesty, in my opinion, Wu Jun is ambitious—we must be cautious in dealing with him. A single misstep, and he will stab us in the back.” Their alliance with Zuoqiu Linye was an act of treason. The Empress Dowager had grievances against Jiguo, but in the end, they were of Jiguo’s blood.

How could they let Wu profit at their expense?

“If we are to achieve great things, such concerns cannot hinder us,” the Empress Dowager replied, her expression tightening.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”