Chapter 771: Bloodline (5)

Because the Empress had fainted and thrown everything into chaos, the audience ended there—unfinished and quietly swept under the rug.

After all, the Empress had opposed the Crown Prince’s marriage so fiercely she’d collapsed from the shock. In that mood, even the Son of Heaven couldn’t very well bring the topic up again.

When the Empress opened her eyes, it was already deep night.

The first words out of her mouth were:

“Bring me the Heavenly Flower Sword. At once.”

Her tone was so utterly resolute that even the veteran palace maids who had seen it all swallowed nervously without meaning to.

Up until now, Qing had been more or less under a kind of soft house arrest.

Since she was “preparing for an audience,” no one dared summon her out first. And because she was lodged deep inside the Crown Prince’s palace, no one could casually visit her either.

But now, she had already had an audience with the Emperor.

She was still quartered in Hilbang Hall, so people couldn’t just wander in as they pleased—but they could send someone to call her out.

And so an imperial maid from the Empress’s palace arrived at Hilbang Hall with the message that Her Ladyship was summoning her.

“How is Her Ladyship feeling?”

“That is not something for you to concern yourself with. And do you truly have the right to worry?”

The old palace woman’s voice was cold.

It was the spilled-over irritation of How dare you even ask. Do you not know whose fault it is that she fainted?

Qing could have felt wronged.

Who asked to be made Crown Princess?

Even if she begged for it on her knees, that was the one thing that would absolutely, utterly, forever never happen.

They’d called a busy person in, kept her shoved in a corner for days, and then this was what they suddenly pulled out of the hat.

In practical terms, she was arguably the biggest victim in the entire situation.

But Qing shut her mouth obediently.

Shit. I really didn’t know Her Ladyship would be that shocked.

I should’ve been more considerate.

Maybe I shouldn’t have laid it on quite so thick...

Only after the Empress collapsed did it hit Qing.

To Qing, she was just an apologetic entry on the list—“Mother as a legal entity”—the original body owner’s mother, heavy and awkward to deal with.

But to the Empress, this had been hearing, out of nowhere, that her daughter was terminal.

It couldn’t have been anything else.

Still, what else could she have done.

It’s not as if Qing had any way to privately contact the Empress. At best, she could’ve used a sound transmission right there to warn her in advance.

But sound transmission wasn’t some consciousness-to-consciousness ritual or brainwave telepathy.

It was nothing more than a technique that used internal energy—this cosmic, pure qi—to carry a voice to one point, a directional sound-wave emission.

Naturally, you had to look at the Empress, and your lips had to move. Even if they couldn’t hear the content, someone would definitely notice you were sending a sound transmission.

And the Heavenly Flower Sword sending the Empress a sound transmission in that hall, at that moment would itself be a huge problem.

Besides, if you were going to fake sick, you had to fake really sick.

A halfhearted illness would never have flown in that situation.

Just then, as Lady Deokseong gathered up the lantern, the old palace woman’s expression twisted.

“Her Ladyship ordered the Heavenly Flower Sword brought, not a train of sycophants. Lady Deokseong, why don’t you stay where you belong? I, for one, don’t understand why you’ve come all the way here when you have Yeongsu Palace.”

“Head Court Lady Jo, there seems to be some misunderstanding—”

“Lady Deokseong, this is not like you. I know well how you cherish His Highness the Crown Prince, but you should be scolding him sharply when he is wrong. Instead, you side with him and serve that brazen creature? Even beasts would know better.”

“Now see here, what are you saying.”

“Have I spoken falsely?”

“That’s not it, I— oh, heavens, honestly...”

Lady Deokseong smacked her own chest.

Head Court Lady Jo’s eyes burned as she watched.

“Head Court Lady Jo, that’s not how it is—”

“Ha. You, Haeryu, you wretched girl. Do you remember how much grace Her Ladyship has shown you? And yet you go around hovering over some lowborn wretch and simpering to serve her? Not even animals would stoop so low.”

“That’s not it at all, I— ah, ah, heavens...”

Next to Lady Deokseong, Haeryu was beating her chest in the exact same pose.

It made sense that Head Court Lady Jo would act this way. All of it came from worrying about the Empress and hating the person she thought had started this whole mess.

So it wasn’t as if Qing could resent being blamed or feel particularly offended.

But that didn’t mean she could just blurt out, This is the real Princess Yeonsul; Her Ladyship only wants to see her real daughter, and no, she’s not actually terminal, so Her Ladyship will get over it soon, don’t worry.

So her insides could only twist in silence.

In the meantime, Head Court Lady Jo’s gaze flicked sharply.

What. Do you have something to say too?

No, ma’am.

Gabiya quietly dropped her eyes.

“Hmph. Enough. Let’s go.”

With that, the maids and eunuchs surged in around Qing.

They didn’t even bother hiding the outright hostility on their faces. She might as well have been a prisoner under escort.

Still, Qing wasn’t particularly offended.

Mm. Her Ladyship has good people around her. That’s what they call virtuous grace.

They left Hilbang Hall, passed out the main gate of the Southern Three Halls, went along the stone path on the left side of the front courtyard, through Bongseon Hall, and cut across the central avenue of the Eastern Six Palaces...

Uh-huh. This is... really far, isn’t it?

It actually was far.

From Hilbang Hall in the Southern Three Halls to Changchun Hall in the Western Six Palaces was a walk of about three li.

And palace staff did not walk fast. Their steps were short, their quick-footed fussiness only looking busy. By Central Plains standards, they moved at a truly leisurely pace.

So the procession crept along.

In the middle of the night, a whole crowd moved together by lantern light, so every palace they passed had faces peeking out—or just openly leaning out—to watch.

Anyone who recognized Head Court Lady Jo, the Empress’s own head attendant, and saw the person being escorted in the middle, veiled, towering above the belt line, could easily guess who it was.

Looks like Her Ladyship has called for the Heavenly Flower Sword.

This night might turn into quite a spectacle.

In fact, Head Court Lady Jo was deliberately walking even slower than usual.

She wanted rumors to spread throughout the palace—wanted this brazen wench to suffer a grand humiliation in the dead of night.

Who knew how long they walked, drawing every gaze in the Forbidden City.

At last—Changchun Hall.

The Empress’s attendant maids were all out as if for a show, lanterns burning bright. The moment Qing entered, a storm of hostile stares slammed into her.

“Your Ladyship, I have brought Ximen Qing—”

—“Let her in.”

The reply cut in like a blade before Head Court Lady Jo even finished speaking.

Head Court Lady Jo blinked.

Normally, at a time like this, Her Ladyship would pretend not to hear at least two or three times, force them to repeat themselves, then drag things out with every excuse, making the offender kneel in the courtyard and wait for a long, humiliating stretch.

That was how the women of the inner palace properly “taught manners” to those beneath them.

The maids of Changchun Hall had all been expecting that exact spectacle. That was why they were standing there so puffed up.

So how was it that Her Ladyship, sounding almost desperate, said to let her in at once?

Even if she was anxious about the Crown Prince’s business, she was skipping the basic humiliation and mockery this brazen lowborn wench ought to receive.

Half disbelieving, Head Court Lady Jo tried again.

“Your Ladyship. Ximen Qing—”

—“Let her in, quickly.”

Another curt answer.

Head Court Lady Jo shot Qing a sharp glare that said, You’d better know how lucky you are, then, well—what else could she do? Orders were orders.

Qing stepped inside carefully.

The Empress, her lips pale and dry as if she’d lost a great deal of strength in just half a day, pushed herself up with effort when she saw Qing.

The sight multiplied Qing’s guilt by ten thousand.

Truthfully, Qing had wanted to say it clearly the next time she saw Her Ladyship.

That whatever this body’s owner had once been, she herself was not Yeonsul now, but Heavenly Flower Sword Ximen Qing of the martial world.

Sharing the same body did not make you Yeonsul.

Nor should it.

If the woman named Yeonsul could see it from the afterlife, it would be enough to make her cry tears of blood and curse her.

But standing here, in front of this woman, how was she supposed to say any of that.

Anyone who knew Qing would have snorted at the very idea she would stick to such resolve.

You think like that, and then you end up with your head in someone’s lap, popping fruit into your mouth and acting spoiled.

When it came to affection, there was no one easier than Qing. She melted into a puddle and disarmed herself without meaning to.

“Everyone out.”

“Your Ladyship!”

“Hurry. I have things to discuss with her alone.”

At that, Head Court Lady Jo’s veins bulged.

“You must not! Your Ladyship! The Heavenly Flower Sword is a martial woman—a butcher who cuts people, and an ignorant brute who pulls a blade whenever displeased! How can we allow Your Ladyship to meet such a savage killer alone!”

One of the Empress’s eyebrows twitched.

“It is absolutely impossible! At the very least, let this humble one remain between you! If this monstrous wench harbors any evil intention, I must be there to hold her back, please...”

The Empress’s eyebrow twitched, and twitched again. Twitch, twitch, twitch.

But she soon let out a long sigh.

She knew that Head Court Lady Jo’s words came from loyalty, and that although it sounded like she was scolding her, she was really trying to intimidate the Heavenly Flower Sword.

If you didn’t know the truth, it was understandable.

“Very well. Head Court Lady Jo will stay. The rest of you leave. This is an order this time. Go.”

The maids who had just drawn in breath to follow Head Court Lady Jo swallowed it back down.

And so, only three remained in the room: Qing, the Empress, and Head Court Lady Jo.

“Come here. Let me see your face. I must see with my own eyes exactly what state you’re in. They say you are so gravely ill you cannot live long—ah, what fate is this of mine...”

“Your Ladyship, it’s dangerous—”

“Now, now, Yujeong. It’s fine. Come, child.”

“Um, Your Ladyship. Before that, there’s something I need to say—”

“Will you only come close after you see this mother die? How can you be so cruel, still sitting there with your face covered—honestly, you wretched thing, hm?”

So what was she supposed to do.

Qing shuffled closer, small and hesitant.

The Empress herself lifted the bridal veil, took Qing’s face in her hands, and stroked and kneaded it, her eyes brimming with tears.

“My poor child. How did your face become so pale and drawn. So beautiful, and yet—if only I had brought you into the palace sooner. This wretched mother, wasting time nursing a vile thirst for revenge and plotting to punish the fake... if I’d brought you in sooner, you’d never have had to fight that horrific traitor. Are you in much pain? Are you uncomfortable?”

“Well. Your Ladyship, the truth is...”

“Why are you so stiff, child. Come here and let me hold you. Oh, you poor thing.”

“Um. So, actually—”

“Don’t say such things. You’re like a block of ice in this summer heat. My poor child, my poor daughter, I am sorry. Your mother is sorry. Be honest with me... how long... how long do you have left...”

“Um, Your Ladyship, the truth is, I’m perfectly fine.”

“You can’t hide it, child. Your hands—your hands are like ice. How can you be so frozen in this weather? Hiding it is no virtue. Do you mean to turn me into a mother who loses her child twice over without knowing? I won’t let you go alone. If you leave, I will follow...”

It was the raw outpouring of a mother with a “terminal” child.

Just. Well.

She still isn’t listening...

With Head Court Lady Jo watching with eyes round as saucers, unable to understand what was happening and looking like her soul had left her body—

Qing confessed again.

That it was all fake illness.

That there was no way she could allow herself to end up in that—ugh—even to think it was appalling—relationship with the Crown Prince, and that she’d needed an excuse so strong the Son of Heaven would have to back down.

“Is that true?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

“Truly? Truly, truly? Not a hair’s breadth of falsehood?”

“Yes. I’m completely healthy, so there’s really no need to wor—”

“Oh, you thoughtless child!”

“GYAAH!”

SMACK!!

The Empress’s palm landed squarely across Qing’s back.

Of course, Qing’s body was not something that could be damaged by a single slap from a woman’s hand.

Honestly, even if the Empress had brought down an iron hammer or a gleaming blade instead of her palm, it would’ve only left a scratch on the hide at best.

But “doesn’t get injured” is not the same as “doesn’t hurt.”

It wasn’t unbearable or anything, but, well—huh, unexpectedly, Her Ladyship’s hand really had some sting to it.

A master of the Transformation Realm could easily withstand the pain of a mother’s fury-filled smack across the back and even had the ability to counterattack.

But she couldn’t just stand there and take it, and counterattacking was out of the question.

So the least she could do was act like it hurt.

Qing made a big show of yelping, rubbing at a spot on her back her hand couldn’t quite reach, rolling all over the floor, flailing about the room.

A desperate, dramatic performance to insist she was in pain.

Watching this, Head Court Lady Jo’s face morphed into the purest visual definition of shock itself as she murmured without meaning to:

“Your Highness...?”