Ex-Girlfriend – Chapter 32

Power Overwhelming the Court

Deposed Empress 07

Covering the Sky with One Hand

Xin Lan hadn’t expected Qu Zhian to send her a note asking how she was faring; there was some slight surprise.

            

Since that day, they hadn’t been in contact.

To Xin Lan, she was a usable asset who would be of great help and simultaneously weaken the Emperor’s power — but for now, she couldn’t be brought into the fold just yet.

Qu Zhian had only just entered the court, a rising star at the height of her momentum whose foundation was far from secure. Whether she stayed or went depended entirely on the Emperor’s will, and the old-guard officials — especially the Xin family — certainly didn’t want her taking root.

            

Speaking of the Xin family, Xin Lan naturally had no feelings for that household, though she wouldn’t go so far as to despise them.

It was true that the Xin family had treated the original owner as an abandoned piece, but given the circumstances, there was nothing they could have done otherwise.

As Xin Lan had said before — it was reasonable, if not affectionate.

            

And before all this, Lady Xin had entered the palace to deliver silver, sent someone over, and told Xin Long to listen to her more. They hadn’t simply washed their hands of her.

In short, the Xin family didn’t owe the original owner anything, because in the beginning, Wu Yanqing was the husband she had chosen for herself — not one the Xin family had arranged. It was with the Xin family’s backing that the original owner had been able to live in such glory, but it was also precisely because of this that she had swallowed the arsenic disguised as love.

The entanglements here couldn’t be untangled in a few words, and Xin Lan had no intention of treating the Xin family as her pillar of support.

            

The Xin family’s goal had never changed: place an empress in the inner palace, then have her bear or raise an imperial prince, and eventually put that prince on the throne so the Xin family could continue enjoying their splendor.

It didn’t matter who that empress was, as long as she was someone from the Xin family who would stand with them.

But given the current state of affairs, Xin Long didn’t yet have that capability, and the Emperor was actively trying to get high-ranking consorts like the Noble Consort or Consort Xi pregnant. Once a child was born, he’d have ways to keep it from going to Xin Long.

            

The Xin family looked glorious on the surface, but they were already in grave danger. The Emperor had been on the throne for four years, lying low for two, and in the last two years his maneuvers had grown bolder, purging quite a few of the Xin family’s people.

One thread pulled affects the whole tapestry. This chess game looked hard to play, but it wasn’t impossible to break.

Xin Lan’s thinking aligned with the Xin family’s: she planned to contain the Emperor, then force his abdication. There was no shortage of children among the imperial clan; they wouldn’t lack an heir.

            

Their paths were the same. Xin Lan had every reason to make the Xin family support her, but the Xin family alone wasn’t enough. The Emperor’s guard against them ran too deep. She needed someone he trusted — someone who could catch him completely off guard.

There was no better candidate than Qu Zhian, but Qu Zhian had no reason to join her against the Emperor, and how to persuade her was a problem in itself.

It was true that the Emperor harbored improper designs on Qu Zhian, but because Xin Lan had intervened, the act hadn’t been completed. Treason, however, was a grave charge, and it wasn’t something you could simply decide to rebel against on a whim.

            

Even if the Xin family had the desire, they didn’t have the nerve.

Xin Lan pinched her embroidered handkerchief, calculating in her mind.

Qu Zhian. The Xin family. The Emperor. Military power. One link locked into the next. If she wanted to accomplish something great, not a single one of these elements could be missing.

            

Xin Lan exhaled softly. She couldn’t rush.

If she had to say, politics were far more troublesome than combat. Devising tactics was much more interesting than hatching conspiracies, but she had grown used to this — was growing increasingly used to it.

A soft sigh dissipated in the wind. Xin Lan stroked the piece of paper and tucked it into her robes.

            

At this moment, Zero Nine issued an alert in her mind.

Zero Nine: “They’re about to make a move on Ah Rou!”

Xin Lan’s eyes went cold. She asked where, who, and told Zero Nine to calculate the probability of a successful rescue.

            

If the Emperor had sent his own people to do this, there might be no window of opportunity to exploit.

Xin Lan had considered this from the very beginning, but she had still let Ah Rou go.

Staying silent about this matter carried far greater risks than speaking of it.

            

Xin Lan guessed that the Xin family would soon face some trouble, if Wu Yanqing did as she expected.

Fortunately, things hadn’t reached the worst-case scenario. That eunuch had merely instructed one of his underlings to handle the matter.

With the Emperor’s tacit approval, quietly disposing of a palace maid within the palace was simple enough, but the body couldn’t remain in the imperial palace.

            

“Si Tong. Chun Yue.”

Xin Lan called the two maids over and gave them an order.

The two nodded and left Biyue Palace.

            

The midsummer sunlight beat down, warming the grey bricks and red tiles.

Ah Rou followed the lead eunuch in bewilderment. Eunuch Mei had suddenly come over, saying there were some things he wanted her to identify as her mistress’s, and had someone lead her there. So she had followed along.

She had thought she was being taken back to her mistress, and her heart had lifted. After all, she had fled in panic last night, and after reporting the information to the Emperor today, she had been kept in a side hall and hadn’t been able to leave. She hadn’t yet gone back to see her mistress — at the very least, she needed to watch over her mistress’s burial.

            

But as she walked, she realized this wasn’t the way back. It was another, unfamiliar path instead.

“Eunuch, where are we going?”

“Just follow along. Would this one lead you astray?”

            

The eunuch shot her an impatient glance. Ah Rou remembered he was the man Eunuch Mei had specifically ordered to take her away, and immediately fell silent.

A ruthless glint entered the eunuch’s eyes. A corpse was hard to transport out in broad daylight, but dropping it into a well would do the trick.

There were always a few remote, uninhabited palaces in the imperial grounds, and who knew how many souls languished at the bottom of their wells.

            

Ah Rou was brought to a place she had never been before. Weeds grew thick along the base of the walls, and the eunuch standing there urged her inside.

Ah Rou hesitantly took two steps forward. She turned to ask a question, but felt a sudden blow to the back of her neck and crumpled to the ground.

The eunuch sneered at the sight and went to fetch rope and stones.

            

He tied stones to her feet, bound her hands and feet, and dropped one end of the weighted rope into the well. The young eunuch shoved her body in. A heavy splash echoed from within the well, and he turned and left.

After he departed, Chun Yue and Si Tong hurried over.

Si Tong went to find rope as well, but it wasn’t long enough. She had to tie one end to Chun Yue and the other around her own waist, letting Chun Yue go down to untie the ropes on Ah Rou’s body while she held the line from above.

            

“Can you hold on? Should I go down instead and let you pull?”

Chun Yue asked worriedly.

“No need, Chun Yue-jie. I used to do farm work at home. Don’t let my looks fool you — I’m plenty strong.”

            

Chun Yue nodded and didn’t hesitate further, descending into the well to rescue her.

A foul stench of rot wafted from the well, nearly making Chun Yue gag.

Judging by that eunuch’s demeanor, this clearly wasn’t his first time doing something like this. Perhaps there really were quite a few bodies at the bottom of this well.

            

Fortunately, the well wasn’t very deep. Chun Yue spotted Ah Rou’s head above the water’s surface.

Ah Rou had been unconscious, but the splash when she hit the water woke her. Her mouth was gagged, and as she looked up at the light filtering into the well, despair had begun to set in — until she saw someone preparing to come down and rescue her, and hope surged through her again.

Chun Yue untied the ropes around Ah Rou’s hands. Ah Rou pulled the cloth from her mouth and freed her own feet.

            

Chun Yue went up first, then they lowered the rope again and pulled Ah Rou up together.

“Thank goodness you came.”

“Let’s not talk about that now. Let’s hurry back. It wouldn’t be good if someone saw us.”

            

Ah Rou nodded, and the three rushed back to Biyue Palace.

Fortunately, Biyue Palace was a cold palace tucked away in a corner; otherwise, coming and going like this wouldn’t have been so easy.

“Mistress, we’ve brought her back.”

            

“Good that she’s back. Sit down and collect yourself.”

Xin Lan nodded. She had used the system to track Ah Rou’s location throughout, deducing their likely destination. Zero Nine had calculated dozens of possible locations.

Xin Lan figured that if they intended to kill someone, they had to dispose of the body, and an inconspicuous well was the best choice. She had Zero Nine eliminate options based on route, and finally selected a location, sending Chun Yue and the others to wait there first.

            

Sure enough, that was the place.

Chun Yue had gotten soaked going down into the well. She let Xin Lan know and went to the back to bathe and change.

“Hey, Chun Yue-jie, tell me — doesn’t our mistress have uncanny foresight? How did she know Ah Rou would be there?”

            

“What, you’ve gone silly? Someone gave the mistress a note, didn’t they?”

Chun Yue scooped water into the tub and smiled at Si Tong.

Si Tong nodded and asked no more questions.

            

What did this mean? It meant the mistress had someone on the Emperor’s side too. Truly formidable.

Xin Lan had no idea the two maids had reached this conclusion, but even if they hadn’t, she wouldn’t have explained.

The advantage of being alone was that nobody asked questions, but having people to use meant she didn’t have to do everything herself and could avoid being spread too thin.

            

Xin Lan rather liked this kind of hierarchical command relationship — whatever she said, the people below carried out without interrogating her every step.

Before her, Ah Rou still seemed shaken, soaked to the bone, not yet seated, trembling slightly.

“Are you scared?”

            

Ah Rou nodded.

“If I hadn’t gotten word in time to save you today, you’d be dead.”

“Thank you for saving my life, Your Highness.”

            

Ah Rou knelt and kowtowed.

“I’ll ask you only one thing. If you’d known this morning, when you went out, that you might not return, would you still have gone?”

“I would.”

            

Ah Rou said it with certainty.

She had already avenged her mistress. Consort Man had been placed under house arrest with no chance of ever turning things around. Though she couldn’t watch her die, the Emperor certainly wouldn’t let her off.

But as for the deposed empress’s situation… even if the Emperor knew she was innocent, there was no going back. After all, the empress’s throne already had an occupant.

            

Ah Rou didn’t understand those court struggles, nor those complicated machinations. Her sighs were simple.

“You can’t go back now. You’re already a ‘dead person.'”

Though her household registration wouldn’t be destroyed, in the Emperor’s eyes, this person was already dead. She absolutely couldn’t remain in the inner palace — she had to be smuggled out.

            

“This servant understands.”

“Do you have any family outside the palace?”

“No.”

            

“Good. That saves trouble.”

Xin Lan had already made her plans, studying Ah Rou thoughtfully.

Ah Rou felt a prickle of unease under that gaze and hurriedly pledged her loyalty.

            

“Your Highness, this servant was sold into the household as a maid when she was little, and she has followed only her mistress. Now that her mistress is gone, this servant doesn’t know where to go. Your Highness saved this servant’s life — you are this servant’s savior. Whatever you say, this servant will do.”

Ah Rou kowtowed twice more, her forehead striking the floor with loud thuds. She had no skills other than serving people, and now that the Emperor considered her dead, she naturally couldn’t stay in the palace. Where to go, what to do — Ah Rou had no idea.

She only knew that the person before her must have a plan.

            

Somehow, she simply felt that this deposed empress — who had rescued her twice and was extraordinarily clever, yet seemed useless to outsiders — was someone she could rely on.

Xin Lan was also thinking. She intended to do something, but she didn’t know whether this maid was suitable, whether she could handle it.

In this moment, Xin Lan wanted to go back to being a villain again.

            

Apart from a few tragic cases, which villain identity didn’t come with a crew of underlings? Why would she need to worry about having no one to use here?

There was no other reason — she simply didn’t trust easily.

Xin Lan’s trust in people was actually quite low, no matter who it was.

            

It wasn’t about security; it was habit.

She only had absolute security with her partner, like the mecha she used to pilot, like Zero Nine.

“There are two paths I can offer you, but once you choose, there’s no going back.” Xin Lan looked at her, as if trying to see into her heart through her eyes. “The first path: leave the palace, leave the capital. Go wherever you like, don’t come back, and live however you want. The second path: work for me. But you’ll need nerve. You can’t be afraid of trouble, you can’t hide anything, and I demand absolute loyalty.”

            

“Which do you choose?”

One meant safety. The other meant the unknown.

Xin Lan was giving her a choice, and while Ah Rou hesitated, Xin Lan was also evaluating her.

            

Zero Nine had already provided this person’s information: not young, healthy, clean background. Xin Lan didn’t need her to do anything momentous — she just needed certain things, needed someone to procure them on her behalf.

Ah Rou bit her lip, caught in conflict.

How to choose…

            

If she left, she couldn’t stay in the capital. Would she go somewhere else and work as a servant?

Ah Rou hadn’t weathered many great storms, but she had been through things and spent a long time in the palace. She was both afraid and helpless when it came to the fawning and backstabbing.

She was like her mistress in temperament — she just wanted a stable, peaceful life.

            

Ah Rou thought that if she went out, she was still young enough and knew how to serve people. Finding work wouldn’t be hard, but… her mistress’s body was still in this man-eating palace. If she just left like this, there was a nameless sorrow in her heart she couldn’t express.

But after a hundred turnings of thought, when she met those dark eyes, all those deliberations dissolved.

Those eyes were so calm, as if they held a vast starry sky — beautiful and solitary, making one feel infinitely small, and then willingly surrender.

            

“Ah Rou is willing to follow her mistress. No matter the requirement, Ah Rou will do her utmost to fulfill it. For this entire life, without any second thoughts.”

Ah Rou didn’t know what this decision would change about her life, but she had a feeling that if she didn’t do it, she would regret it.

“Good. Tonight, I’ll take you out of the palace. I’ll settle you in first, then tell you what you need to do.”

            

Ah Rou nodded. This time, she didn’t kowtow, but performed a full kneeling bow.

Xin Lan sat in her chair, fingertips tracing the porcelain cup, lifted the lid, and took a slow sip.

Xin Lan dismissed Ah Rou, telling her to find Chun Yue for a change of clothes.

            

She set down her cup and looked around the empty room.

The ancient world was truly boring, she thought.

It wasn’t even as interesting as attending classes in the last world. At least there you could hear some knowledge, and if you paid attention, it was actually quite engaging.

            

Here, she could only stare blankly at the air.

The silly drama Zero Nine had been following was finished, and she was looking for something new to watch.

Xin Lan had only been using that to pass the time, and now she didn’t even have that diversion.

            

She felt bored, and rarely, a touch of loneliness.

Xin Lan thought that next time she could have Zero Nine buy some books to keep in the system space, so she’d have something to read when she was bored.

It would be even better if they had those VR games. Xin Lan liked combat games.

            

The more she thought, the more bored she became. Xin Lan rose from her chair.

Actually, when she had saved Ah Rou, Xin Lan had acted with the principle of ‘do good deeds, ask not about the future’¹. After all, she hadn’t thought it would have much impact on her plans. But on reflection, Ah Rou was someone she could use.

Zero Nine: “Host, are you bored?”

            

Xin Lan: “A little. Why, got anything interesting?”

Zero Nine: “No, but I can chat with you.”

Xin Lan: “About what?”

            

Zero Nine: “Gossip, for instance. Like two hosts who were dating, but one cheated on the other during a mission.”

Xin Lan: “Tch, tragic.”

Zero Nine: “Even more tragic — the other person doesn’t even know. After all, hosts almost never do missions in the same world at the same time. Who’d know about infidelity inside a mission world?”

            

Xin Lan: “Then how do you know?”

Xin Lan’s interest was slightly piqued. It made sense — cheating inside a mission world wouldn’t affect your real identity, and with emotional dilution afterward, you wouldn’t even have to worry about accidentally calling out someone else’s name while in bed with your partner.

Zero Nine: “That host’s system told me! Posted about it anonymously on the system forum. I don’t even know who the real person is. I’m still reading the thread — sounds like they cheated more than once. I really feel sorry for that host’s partner.”

            

Xin Lan: “Cucked out of their mind.”

Zero Nine: “Why is it that some people can proclaim love with every breath, yet betray the person and act like nothing happened?”

Setting aside the whole feudal system, Zero Nine had indeed seen many people like that unknown host — people who made you wonder how anyone could be so shameless. Yet, oddly enough, decisive people were rare, and some still chose to forgive.

            

Zero Nine had arrived at this profound theoretical conclusion because her first host had been both sweet and scummy, but every single man she’d cheated on had still professed willingness to take her back.

Xin Lan: “There are all kinds of people in the world, and a hundred ways it turns.”

Zero Nine: “Host, do you think those people should be forgiven?”

            

Xin Lan: “If they want to forgive, they forgive. Their own business, their own call. Some are worth it, some aren’t.”

Zero Nine: “What if it were you…”

Xin Lan: “Would I give them the chance?”

            

Zero Nine: “Hypothetically. Just hypothesize.”

Xin Lan: “Death would be getting off easy. If I didn’t settle that score, I wouldn’t deserve the name Xin.”

For some reason, Qu Zhian, who was at home, suddenly sneezed².

            

She rubbed her nose, feeling a little better.

She thought of the note she had sent — she wondered if Miss Xin had received it, if she knew it was from her.

She should know the note was from her, right?

            

She was so clever; surely she’d find a way to send a reply.

Qu Zhian paced around her room for a couple of laps, then reconsidered — perhaps the other party would see no need.

Hard to say. That person gave her such complicated feelings.

            

She wanted to draw closer, yet had no compelling reason to convince herself to do so.

She always felt that this was a flower with thorns — force your way near, and you might end up with a palmful of pricks. She had to keep a measured distance, advancing and retreating with care.

Qu Zhian poured herself a cup of cold tea to beat the heat, then didn’t linger in the courtyard but went out.

            

Though she was now an official, her old habits remained. Arriving in a new place, she liked to get a feel for the lay of the land — local customs, climate, surroundings, what sold well, and if she were to go into business, which direction to take.

By the time she returned home that afternoon, Qu Zhian laughed at herself for falling into old habits again.

So when night fell and she saw the person knocking at her door, she wondered if she’d walked so much that afternoon that she was hallucinating.

            

“Miss Xin!”

Qu Zhian’s voice carried a note of delight, but in the next instant she realized — at this hour, this person absolutely should not be here.

“What, not welcoming?”

            

The visitor was indeed Xin Lan, who had brought Ah Rou out. To settle matters sooner, and to avoid disturbing anyone’s good sleep, Xin Lan hadn’t waited until the dead of night to come out.

Ah Rou followed behind her, looking dazed. She only knew that one moment she was in Biyue Palace, then for some reason she had lost consciousness, and just now her mistress had woken her.

In an instant, she had gone from inside the palace to outside. Ah Rou had no idea how her mistress had managed it, but her conviction only deepened — following her mistress could not be wrong.

            

Did her mistress have some kind of magic? Otherwise, how could they have just walked out like that?

In Ah Rou’s mind, that tall red wall was an insurmountable barrier, separating the outside world from the palace within.

To leave, you absolutely needed a waist tag, and since entering the palace, she had never once set foot outside.

            

“How could I not welcome you? Hurry, come in and sit.”

When Qu Zhian closed the door, she made a point of checking the surroundings, afraid someone might have followed Xin Lan. Xin Lan’s departure this time had to be secret — by any logic, she couldn’t have left openly.

“This little courtyard of yours is quite nice, my lord.”

            

“It’s a humble dwelling, and you flatter me. Please sit first, I’ll go pour you both some tea.”

“No need to be formal. Ah Rou, you go somewhere else for now. I have business to discuss with this lord.”

Ah Rou kept her eyes down, nodded, and withdrew.

            

Only then did Qu Zhian notice that this maid looked familiar — wasn’t she the palace maid who had knelt before the Emperor this morning? Why was she with Xin Lan?

“What, you recognize her?”

Xin Lan saw the change in Qu Zhian’s expression and asked deliberately.

            

“We’ve met once, that’s all. When court dismissed this morning, she was the one kneeling in front of His Majesty.”

“I only know the vague outline.”

“My lord did send me a message. Thank you for the thought. You asked how I was faring, and I’ll tell you — I’ve been faring quite well.”

            

Qu Zhian smiled and nodded, just as Xin Lan hadn’t pressed about her being a woman, she too would pretend not to be curious about how Xin Lan had gotten out.

In truth, curiosity clawed at her like a kitten inside — she was dying to know how Xin Lan had actually left.

Perhaps through the Xin family’s channels. Given that she’d brought another person along, this trip definitely wasn’t just to answer the question on the note.

            

“I’m glad to hear you’re faring well.”

“Something did happen in the palace, but it’s nothing major.”

Xin Lan told Qu Zhian the full story without hesitation, naturally omitting the embellished parts.

            

“Even sequestered in a remote palace, Miss, you’re remarkably well-informed.”

Qu Zhian offered a compliment. In truth, she wasn’t very interested in inner-palace machinations — what interested her was what Consort Man’s affair represented behind the scenes.

She also couldn’t help but marvel at how ruthless people could truly be. It was demonic.

            

Who could have imagined that such a delicate, frail woman was capable of such cruelty?

And even more astonishing were the machinations she had orchestrated in the shadows.

What Qu Zhian couldn’t fathom was that Consort Man had actually managed to hook up with an official. Were there really such fools in the court?

            

Her remark about being “well-informed” was also a double meaning — Xin Lan could actually pinpoint her address accurately from deep within the palace. Her network was truly formidable.

“Mainly because the trouble concerned me. I couldn’t very well sit by and not deal with it.”

“Is there something else besides this visit, Miss?”

            

“Has the Emperor granted you an official residence yet?”

“He has, but it’s still being renovated.”

“Then I wonder if your courtyard here would be convenient for taking someone in?”

            

“By all rights, that palace maid should be credited for her service. Why would she need to be hidden away?”

“A royal scandal — can that be allowed to reach others’ ears? That’s probably what the Emperor thinks. After all, it concerns his issue of an heir. Only the dead can keep a secret forever.”

Qu Zhian frowned slightly. She still wasn’t accustomed to the methods of powerful families.

            

“My lord needn’t worry. We won’t be staying here for free. Once we find another courtyard to rent, we’ll move out.”

“Miss, why stand on such ceremony? Given our relationship, there’s no need for this.”

“Our relationship?”

            

Xin Lan smiled and turned the question back on her.

She was somewhat surprised by how quickly this person warmed to her.

Then again, it wasn’t really that sudden — after all, she had essentially saved her life once. She had thought this person would push her away, or at least maintain a guarded stance. But the fact that she had sent a note showed she was someone with a sense of justice and loyalty, someone with a righteous spirit.

            

Setting everything else aside, she was quite an interesting person.

But thinking back to the few lines of description given about this person in the original plot, her reaction made sense.

A girl who could escape from a family like that and dare to defy such a system showed she had courage. Her outstanding mercantile talent showed she had vision and brains. The fact that she could decisively walk away from her business, take her money, and travel to meet friends showed she was someone straightforward and open-hearted. And someone who could form her own opinions on matters of state and later make real contributions — that was truly extraordinary.

            

The more Xin Lan thought about Qu Zhian’s merits, the more she wanted to bring this person into her fold and put her to use.

But how to win her over remained a question that required thought.

“Surely we can count ourselves friends by now?”

            

They shared a secret and had been through a life-and-death matter of chastity together. Qu Zhian admired Xin Lan greatly. If this person were free, she would surely accomplish great things.

“I didn’t expect my lord to consider me a friend. I’m truly moved.”

“Miss, are you mocking me? I’d originally planned to leave with grace, but then I thought better of it — there was no need. And even if I wanted to leave, I feared that person wouldn’t agree.”

            

That last remark made Qu Zhian feel both embarrassed and uncomfortable, as if she were boasting about herself, but it was a genuine frustration.

“Then you simply need to become powerful enough that he has no way to dictate whether you stay or go. Problem solved.”

Xin Lan gave a faint smile. That light smile appeared on her face, making her features seem even more exquisite, like fine jade.

            

Qu Zhian startled and stared at Xin Lan, but that trace of a smile had already vanished, as if it had never been there at all.

Was she implying something?

Like the Xin family — powerful enough that the Emperor couldn’t control their comings and goings?

            

“Does Miss intend to keep her indefinitely?”

Qu Zhian didn’t think so. She felt Xin Lan must have some other purpose.

She didn’t think Xin Lan was incapable of charity, but she didn’t think it would be that simple — that she’d just benevolently keep supporting a maid forever.

            

“Keeping a maid is no great matter. But as you know, a deposed empress has no voice in the inner palace. If I were to fall ill, no imperial physician would ever come. So I was thinking — why not have this maid open a medicine shop, hire a doctor, learn some pharmacology.”

Smart people talking to smart people required little effort and no relentless questioning.

“If you want to open a shop, come find me. I can’t help with much else, but this I can certainly manage.”

            

Qu Zhian’s spirits rose. She had spent the whole afternoon observing exactly these things. If she could help someone, that was for the best.

“Then thank you, my lord. With your help, I’m completely at ease, and this girl will have a safe place to stay. But she has no experience in trade, so I’ll have to ask my lord to look after her. If my lord feels she has no talent for it, just tell me, and I’ll think of something else.”

Whether Ah Rou had talent or not didn’t matter. What mattered was that Xin Lan needed a medicine shop to carry out her plans.

            

“Good. And Miss, there’s no need to call me ‘my lord’ — it feels too distant.”

They had only met twice, but what they had been through together was momentous, and their identities were rather special.

They hadn’t quite reached the stage of meeting for the first time is like an old friend returning³, but Qu Zhian did feel a real affinity.

            

Seeing this person just made her happy, without needing to consider all the baggage and complications of her background.

So what if she was a deposed empress, so what if she was from the Xin family? When they talked, she was simply her Miss Xin.

“Then what should I call you? Zhian? If someone overheard that, they’d guess it was you in an instant.”

            

“Then call me my childhood name, Yan Yan. My family all called me that.”

“Yan?”⁴

“Yan, as in the phrase mist and clouds scatter⁵.”

            

Qu Zhian’s lips curved. These were the same words Xin Lan had used when introducing herself.

Xin Lan clearly remembered too. Meeting Qu Zhian’s eyes, she smiled as well.

That smile spread through her eyes, making those obsidian irises gleam like brilliant stars, and when her dark feathered lashes fluttered, it was as if a vast starry river came into view.

            

Qu Zhian suddenly thought of a line of poetry, feeling as if all the stars in the sky were pressing down before her eyes, and in her joy she felt her own smallness.

Drunk, I forget the sky is in the water; a boatful of clear dreams weighs down the starry river.⁶

“All right, I’ll call you Yan Yan.”

            

Xin Lan nodded. A nickname was perfectly fine. As long as it was this person, she could call her anything.

They reached an agreement on the medicine shop.

“I’m afraid I didn’t bring enough silver today. I only brought some of it — I’ll leave it with you first, and I’ll add the rest tomorrow.”

            

“No rush. You can pay when I’ve made the selections.”

Qu Zhian didn’t attach much importance to money — after all, she had plenty of it.

Xin Lan had Zero Nine scan and knew that Qu Zhian wouldn’t quibble over this amount. As long as debts were repaid, she was fine. She took out what she’d brought and placed it in Qu Zhian’s hand.

            

When their fingers touched, Qu Zhian felt a sudden flutter in her heart.

Xin Lan didn’t notice her reaction and withdrew her hand.

Qu Zhian’s background was not simple. Though she wasn’t of imperial blood, her family’s wealth rivaled nations⁷. The Qu family’s business spread across the entire State of Wu and even reached Daqing.

            

So Qu Zhian had money. Truly staggering amounts of money.

And she wasn’t some heiress frittering away a fortune, either. She had a real talent for making money breed more money.

Based on Qu Zhian’s offer to help oversee the medicine shop, Xin Lan knew this was settled.

            

“Looks like you came prepared, Miss Xin.”

Qu Zhian accepted the silver notes. Xin Lan smiled at her, neither confirming nor denying.

Qu Zhian waited for Xin Lan to say, “Calling me ‘Miss’ is too distant, why not call me Lan’er?” But after a while, Xin Lan still hadn’t said it.

            

A small flicker of discontent rose in Qu Zhian’s heart, but she didn’t show it.

“Tell me — if the Emperor knew we were getting along so well, would he be furious?”

The Emperor had designs on Qu Zhian and considered her one of his own people. And the Emperor particularly despised the Xin family and Xin Lan. If he saw Xin Lan and Qu Zhian entangled, he’d be enraged beyond measure.

            

“Why should we care about him.”

Qu Zhian curled her lip. The Emperor had no right to dictate her personal friendships. Whom she chose to befriend was her freedom, and that was none of his business.

Qu Zhian couldn’t say the Xin family’s actions had nothing to do with Xin Lan — the facts were plain for all to see. Mutual exploitation: one rising ever higher, while the other felt the tree had grown too large, its shade completely eclipsing him. Cutting down the tree that blocked his light was only natural.

            

It was what he had done to Xin Lan that went too far.

Qu Zhian grew angry just thinking about it, but anger was useless.

“Yan Yan, you’re being rather charmingly coy right now. How do you normally speak?”

            

A woman’s voice and a man’s voice did have their differences, though some people’s voices were androgynous enough to pass. Generally, only eunuchs spoke with that unmistakable effeminate quality.

Qu Zhian coughed softly and cleared her throat.

“I normally speak like this. As long as I’m careful, it won’t give me away. Dressing as a woman outside is simply too inconvenient.”

            

Qu Zhian’s voice dropped lower, losing any feminine quality. Going by voice alone, you’d think she was a gentle young gentleman.

“Impressive.”

Xin Lan clapped lightly. Qu Zhian exhaled and returned her voice to its usual register.

            

This had taken practice. In the beginning, Qu Zhian had been easily found out, but no longer — from her bearing to her speech, she could pass as an elegant gentleman, or at the very least a wellborn young master or a refined scholar.

Xin Lan didn’t linger long in conversation with Qu Zhian. She went outside to speak with Ah Rou, who was waiting by the door.

The instructions were simple — follow Qu Zhian’s lead, listen to her, and learn.

            

Ah Rou agreed to everything, but unease still stirred inside her.

“Mistress, is this servant just staying here? How does this servant send word to you? When will this servant see you again?”

Ah Rou hadn’t been outside the palace in two or three years. Even before Consort Liu entered the palace, she hadn’t been out much. An occasional stroll through the streets had filled her with delight. Now, being left alone outside, with an unfamiliar young lord no less, made her timid.

            

“Ah Rou, have you forgotten what I told you before?”

Have nerve. Don’t be afraid of trouble.

“This servant remembers. This servant will study hard, do her work well, and wait for you, Mistress.”

            

Ah Rou took a deep breath and looked steadily into Xin Lan’s eyes.

“Good. From now on, you don’t need to call yourself ‘this servant’ here. It’ll save people from noticing something’s off.”

“Yes, this ser… I understand.”

            

Ah Rou hesitated, looking at Xin Lan as if wanting to say something more.

“Say whatever you need to say.”

“Can I go back and see my mistress? I don’t know when she’ll be buried, or where…”

            

“You can’t go back. If there’s news, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Ah Rou said gratefully.

            

A low-ranking consort would never be interred in the imperial mausoleum, and given how disgracefully her mistress had died… The more Ah Rou thought about it, the more hatred burned in her heart.

“I’m leaving. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Take care, Mistress.”

            

Xin Lan’s figure dissolved into the night. Ah Rou closed the door and slid the bolt.

“My lord, where should I sleep?”

“Take the east wing. It was cleaned recently — just pull the bedding from the cabinet and you can sleep.”

            

“Thank you, my lord. Should I wake you in the morning?”

“No need.”

Ah Rou nodded and quietly returned to her room.

            

As she drifted toward sleep, her last thought was whether her mistress would blame her for revealing the coercion she had endured. That was probably the last thing her mistress would have wanted the Emperor to know.

If her mistress blamed her, let her come scold her in a dream.

She woke hazily, rubbing her forehead. In her dreams last night, she had seen no one she cared about. She hadn’t dreamed of her mistress at all.

            

It was already light outside. When she pushed open the door, she heard the young lord reading aloud.

Today my soul is in disarray from illness; I dream only of strangers, never of you.⁸

She hadn’t been ill — so why had she, too, dreamed only of strangers?

            

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