Ex-Girlfriend – Chapter 33
by Little PandaPower Overwhelming the Court
Deposed Empress 08
Covering the Sky with One Hand
Xin Lan thought she’d settled some things and could finally get a good night’s sleep, but Zero Nine delivered another piece of news.
Zero Nine: “Lan-jie, Consort Man escaped.”
Xin Lan: “Hm?”
Zero Nine: “She’s on the move, destination unknown. But given her martial skills, she probably can’t make it over the palace walls.”
Xin Lan: “Then won’t the Emperor be furious?”
Zero Nine: “Furious. He’s got the Imperial Guard searching.”
Xin Lan: “How did she get out?”
By all logic, Consort Man was under house arrest with the Imperial Guard at her door — how did she escape? Through the roof?
That shouldn’t be possible. Consort Man’s lightness technique1 hadn’t reached that level — otherwise she wouldn’t be unable to clear the palace walls either.
Zero Nine: “She lured one guard in and knocked him out, then got another to come in and knocked him out too. That’s how she got out.”
Beautiful, fragile-looking women always made it hard for people to stay on guard — especially Consort Man, with her pitiful, helpless air. But Wu Yanqing was no man blinded by beauty. Even when it came to a beauty, he struck without the slightest hesitation.
Never underestimate a strong, confident woman — she would always have moves that took people by surprise.
Consort Man headed toward the palace walls. She had long since torn off the cumbersome hem of her skirt, not caring at all that her calves were exposed. She had to get out of here.
Too bad her secret passage hadn’t been completed yet, and she had no idea where the hidden tunnels beneath the State of Wu’s imperial palace lay — otherwise she wouldn’t be so constrained.
She gathered her breath and tried to leap onto the eaves, but failed.
She’d only ever learned the basics, and she hadn’t practiced in years. Just knocking out those two tall, burly guards had already cost her considerable effort.
With no other options, she could only hide for now.
But if she couldn’t get out, hiding here would only delay the inevitable — she’d be found sooner or later.
Consort Man, like a caged animal, carefully concealed herself within the palace.
Xin Lan listened to Zero Nine’s play-by-play, watching with detached interest.
She called Chun Yue over and whispered to her.
Chun Yue nodded, indicating she understood.
Chun Yue withdrew. Outside the door, Si Tong tugged at her sleeve and whispered to her.
“Chun Yue-jiejie, what did the master talk to you about?”
Chun Yue briefly told her.
“That’s it? Then why didn’t the master call me instead of you? So biased.”
Si Tong said this with a laugh, only pretending to complain. After all, Chun Yue had been serving for years longer than her, so it was only natural to call her for tasks.
“I just happened to be waiting by the door. You can wait there next time too, and the master will naturally call you.”
Chun Yue was observant; she’d long noticed that the master had no preferences. For trivial errands, she simply called whoever was closest.
“Then I’ll try that next time.”
Si Tong said with a grin, went to peek at the door, then sat back down.
Nothing major — just the Imperial Guard conducting a search.
Consort Man wasn’t at Biyue Palace to begin with, and Xin Lan had nothing to hide here, so she let the Imperial Guard search as they pleased.
She only asked from her seat who they were searching for.
“Consort Man was confined to her quarters, but she has escaped without authorization. This humble official is acting on imperial orders to apprehend her.”
“I haven’t seen anyone.”
“Master, this servant thought she saw someone just now, but isn’t sure if it was Consort Man. The figure looked like a woman, dressed unlike a palace maid, running very fast. This servant only caught a glimpse of her back.”
Chun Yue spoke hesitantly, her words laced with uncertainty.
“Which direction did she go?”
Chun Yue pointed in a direction, and the Imperial Guard headed off that way.
The gates of Biyue Palace were shut again. When the footsteps faded, the night returned to silence.
Si Tong and Chun Yue brought in hot water. Xin Lan undressed and slipped into the bath.
As for Consort Man’s affairs — she couldn’t care less. Her bath was more important. If there were any results, Zero Nine would tell her anyway.
The water in the tub was warm, soothing against her skin. Xin Lan exhaled softly, her pale, slender fingers trailing through the water. She sank her neck beneath the surface, letting her dark hair float free.
Just as she was finishing her bath, Zero Nine told her that Consort Man had been caught.
Following the direction Chun Yue had indicated, the Imperial Guard quickly found her. Surrounding her on all sides, Consort Man had no way to escape. She was brought before the Emperor in custody.
Wu Yanqing dismissed everyone. When only the two of them remained in the hall, he descended from his seat and looked down from above at Consort Man, sitting crumpled on the floor.
“I underestimated you. You have quite the talent for escape. But since you dared to run, it means the bastard in your belly is exactly what I said it was, no?”
Wu Yanqing lifted Consort Man’s chin with two fingers and saw her hate-filled eyes.
“You hate me? What right do you have? In the years since you entered the palace, I have treated you well, showered you with favor at every turn — and how did you repay me?”
Wu Yanqing’s voice was ice-cold. Thinking back on how he’d taken antidotes and nursed his body back to health, only to find that not a single consort in the harem had gotten pregnant — because of what this woman had done — a surge of fury rose in him.
He didn’t feel he’d done anything wrong by his beauty. Love, rewards — nothing was lacking. Yet she had tampered with that part of him, trying to cut off his heirs and overturn his dynasty, then turned on his other consorts as well. Her heart was poisoned to the core.
“We’re past this point, Your Majesty. There’s no need for the hypocrisy.”
Consort Man brushed the dust from her clothes. Her face showed none of the tearful, pitiful vulnerability of before — it was filled with cold malice instead.
“Truly a cold-hearted woman,” Wu Yanqing sighed, running his fingers along Consort Man’s cheek. “What else have you been corresponding with Daqing about?”
“I won’t tell you a single word.”
“Why be like this? We were husband and wife, after all. You wronged me — why act as if I wronged you? I can’t bear to torture you, but if you refuse to talk, those punishments will be applied to you, one by one.”
Wu Yanqing thought he’d treated this woman quite well. She had betrayed him, been unfaithful — and yet here he was, still speaking kindly. Pity she still didn’t know what was good for her.
“Can’t bear to? When have you ever held back? Every woman in your eyes is nothing more than a tool to be valued by her usefulness. Did Xin Lan ever wrong you? And look at her miserable end now. What right does a man like you have to pretend to be so devoted in front of me?”
Consort Man wasn’t standing up for Xin Lan — she’d simply reached the point of having nothing left to lose.
Wu Yanqing’s expression flickered for a moment. He had someone come in and take Consort Man away.
Xin Lan listened to the exchange and found it amusing.
What pot matches what lid2 — neither of them was clean.
But as far as Consort Man went, she had indeed wronged Wu Yanqing — just as Wu Yanqing had wronged the original owner.
Under the laws of the State of Wu, becoming a female prisoner was no pleasant fate.
Being a female prisoner was even worse than being a courtesan in a brothel — at least they charged for their services.
For an unfaithful female prisoner, the methods of torture were even more brutal.
Xin Lan had no interest in knowing Consort Man’s fate — she could guess it all entirely.
She didn’t have much sympathy either. It was just one retribution for another, one life for another.
Heaven’s justice was clear, and retribution never missed its mark.
How innocent was Consort Liu, yet she could only sleep forever beneath the cold earth.
And pitiful were the unborn children of Consort Liu and Consort Xi — gone before they were even born.
The evening of the next day, Xin Lan left the palace again.
Qu Zhian was efficient, having already scouted several medicine shops for Xin Lan.
Buying an existing medicine shop was far more convenient than opening a new one, since an established shop already had supply channels. But the drawback was equally obvious: if a shop were profitable, the owner wouldn’t sell it. The decent lower-end medicine shops would never hit the market unless the proprietor was desperate for cash.
Opening a new shop meant finding the right connections first. Location and the type of building mattered too, and the place would need to be renovated to the desired layout. All that back-and-forth would cost plenty of silver and time — and Qu Zhian knew that Xin Lan didn’t want to wait.
What she wanted to confirm was whether Xin Lan was opening the shop to make money, or for some other purpose.
But it was obvious that if she wanted to make money, she wouldn’t start with a medicine shop. Choosing a teahouse or tavern would be far easier for turning a profit.
Xin Lan was pleased to hear about a medicine shop whose owner wanted to sell. She had her own use for it — it had nothing to do with running a business. The more inconspicuous, the better.
Qu Zhian paused at those words, her gaze toward Xin Lan turning deep and unreadable. When Xin Lan looked up, that shadow vanished as quickly as it had come.
“Very well. I’ll have it sorted by tomorrow. The banknotes you gave yesterday are more than enough. Why not go take a look together today?”
Xin Lan readily agreed, walking alongside Qu Zhian beneath the night sky.
She knew Qu Zhian understood her intentions — that was why she’d found a place that suited her so well.
Qu Zhian saw through it but didn’t say it aloud. By not saying it, she stayed on a delicate line — free to advance or retreat.
Xin Lan saw the medicine shop and was very satisfied. The location wasn’t too remote, the size was just right, and the owner — having managed it poorly and needing to leave the capital for personal reasons — was eager to sell.
After they finalized the shop, the two walked back slowly.
It wasn’t too late yet, but the streets were already nearly empty.
Only a few people hurried by. Xin Lan walked past them in silence with Qu Zhian.
“Yan Yan did me this favor — I’ll definitely send a proper thank-you gift another day.”
Xin Lan wanted to break the silence, mentally cataloguing what kind of gift would be appropriate.
“No need to be so formal. It was just a small effort — no need for a special gift.”
Qu Zhian had wanted to suggest that sharing a pot of tea would be more than enough. But given Xin Lan’s identity, she could probably only slip out at night — and no teahouse stayed open past dark. They all closed at nightfall. A tavern might work, but who knew what could happen if they got drunk, and she had no idea whether Xin Lan could even hold her liquor. So the thought came to nothing.
“That won’t do.”
Xin Lan shook her head. She didn’t like owing people favors. Qu Zhian had helped her, so she had to return the gesture.
But she hadn’t yet thought of an appropriate gift. She didn’t have any rare trinkets on hand, and if she were to buy something — her funds were limited, and Qu Zhian came from a wealthy merchant family. What beautiful things hadn’t she already seen?
“It’s fine. Even if there’s to be a thank-you gift, now isn’t the time. When it’s convenient for you, we can discuss it then.”
Qu Zhian’s eyes curved into crescents, her smile easy and cheerful — but the meaning behind her words had shifted from before. She no longer intended to let this favor go.
Qu Zhian was a shrewd businesswoman. The first refusal had been genuine — but since Xin Lan insisted on being polite, she silently made a mental note: Miss Xin owes her a favor.
She had a feeling it would come in very handy someday.
Xin Lan had no idea what was going through her mind, thinking to herself that this person was really quite decent.
Though “when it’s convenient” would probably be a long time from now — and she might well need this person’s help again along the way.
Qu Zhian might know what she was planning, but she didn’t know exactly how far Xin Lan intended to take it.
Xin Lan left Qu Zhian’s place, her heart somehow heavier.
That near-wistful feeling arose from she knew not where, and by the time she closed her eyes, it had quietly faded away.
A couple of days later, the Imperial Guard suddenly surrounded the Xin Mansion and stormed in to search.
The operation came like a thunderclap, catching everyone off guard.
When Zero Nine told Xin Lan, she was cracking sunflower seeds.
Hearing the news, she calmly cracked another seed.
She’d known all along that the Emperor would seize on this to make something of it. The idea that he’d learn the truth and clear her name — how could that ever happen?
The Imperial Guard searched the Xin residence and found two letters of correspondence between Xin Sheng and Consort Man — black ink on white paper, damning evidence of colluding with the enemy and betraying the state.
Needless to say, the letters were absolutely the Emperor’s forgery. Even the current head of the Xin family, Left Chancellor3 Lord Xin Sheng, knew this perfectly well.
From the moment Consort Man was thrown into the Imperial Prison, he had sensed that something was off.
Even if officials in the court had heard rumors, no one dared to ask the Emperor what Consort Man had actually done wrong. After all, she was a princess sent for a political marriage — not some minister’s daughter.
It was the Emperor himself who brought it up in court, speaking of Daqing’s conspiracy, claiming that Consort Man harbored treacherous intentions. Several officials immediately joined in condemning her. Then the Emperor added a pointed remark — that someone had been restlessly making contact with Consort Man. He didn’t say who. But Xin Sheng had always felt those words were aimed directly at him.
He had conducted himself uprightly. Xin Sheng had done nothing wrong and wasn’t afraid — but what he feared was being forced into the appearance of treason.
And as he’d expected, that day finally came.
He had been on guard at home, worried that something incriminating might be planted in the residence. But during a search by the Imperial Guard, items taken from his person could just as easily be claimed to have been found on the premises.
So the Left Chancellor stayed calm. When the Emperor arrived, he knelt and cried out his innocence — his bearing radiating unwavering loyalty to his sovereign.
His family members wept and wailed too, insisting that their lord came straight home every day after morning court — never lingering in the palace unless summoned. The crying was enough to make anyone’s head ache.
The Left Chancellor was indeed skilled at maintaining his good reputation. In all these years, not a single instance of corruption or embezzlement had ever been pinned on him. Of course he wasn’t as clean as he appeared — he simply played the part well, and covered his tracks thoroughly.
There was no need to worry that the Emperor might misunderstand the Left Chancellor’s actions — the fear was that the Emperor was doing it deliberately. And he was. The Emperor knew it, the Left Chancellor knew it, and those who saw clearly knew it too.
Xin Lan finished cracking a whole handful of seeds. Then her niece arrived in tears.
Xin Long was still young. Hearing that something had happened to the Xin family — that her grandfather had been thrown into prison — and unable to get any news from home, she came rushing over in a panic.
“Aunt, they all say Grandfather…”
The moment she opened her mouth, the tears fell.
“Long’er, don’t cry. You’re the Empress now — you can’t be so unsteady. Mingxiang, wipe your mistress’s tears.”
Xin Long sobbed, but seeing Xin Lan sitting in the master’s seat, as unflappable as if Mount Tai4 were crumbling before her, she gradually calmed down.
“Long’er, I want you to understand — our Xin family is a thorn in the Emperor’s flesh. Until he pulls it out, he won’t sleep or eat in peace. You need to be smarter about these things. Don’t always be so naive.”
“But… but Mother told me to please him, and I did, so why…”
“Some things never change no matter how hard one person tries. No matter how much effort you put into pleasing him, if he won’t accept it, what can you do?”
“Then is our family… is our family going to be in trouble?”
“Don’t let your imagination run wild. Even if something does happen, you can’t panic. Father must have left himself a fallback. Go back and wait. No matter what happens, stay calm.”
Xin Lan had wanted to add that if the Emperor came to see her, she should act a bit more sorrowful — perhaps that might stir his compassion. But on second thought, it was impossible. A man like that — how could he possibly have such feelings?
Xin Long arrived with a tearstained face, and left the same way.
Sure enough, the day after Xin Sheng was thrown into the Imperial Prison, officials knelt to plead on his behalf.
The Emperor seethed with rage and refused to budge.
He’d finally caught such an opportunity — how could he let it slip?
In the Imperial Study, Qiu Peizhen and Qu Zhian stood together as the Emperor asked for their views on the matter.
Qiu Peizhen was straightforward by nature. He too was dissatisfied with the Xin family’s towering presence in the court, but the Xins hadn’t openly committed any wrongdoing or any absurd acts. So Qiu Peizhen spoke honestly, saying there was only a fifty-fifty possibility — perhaps the Left Chancellor had truly done such a thing, perhaps not.
After all, the Left Chancellor had already reached the highest rank a minister could attain. What would he gain from colluding with the enemy and betraying the state?
A dynasty wasn’t so easily handed over. If he had truly done it and the dynasty changed, where would his current standing be? Unless he meant to take the throne himself.
But that was even less likely. Even raising a rebellion required a good pretext. Usurping the throne without legitimate cause would not only fail but would leave him infamous for eternity. A man as shrewd as the Left Chancellor would never burn his bridges like that.
So as Qiu Peizhen spoke, he actually began to feel that finding letters in the Left Chancellor’s residence was rather absurd. But he wasn’t stupid either — he read the Emperor’s expression and shifted his tone.
Saying that if the Left Chancellor had truly done it, he should be severely punished without mercy.
From the moment the incident occurred, Qu Zhian understood exactly what was going on.
This staged production — Qu Zhian’s thought was that the crime of treason would bring punishment to nine generations of kin5. Wouldn’t that implicate Xin Lan as well?
But Qu Zhian and the Left Chancellor weren’t in the same faction, and she couldn’t say a word in his defense.
“Zhian, you tell me.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. The fact that items were found in the Left Chancellor’s residence must have a reason. Your Majesty sees all with perfect clarity and would never misjudge.”
Qu Zhian’s expression remained unchanged as she spoke to align with the Emperor’s wishes.
As she said this, a certain numbness settled in her heart.
She never thought she’d become the kind of person who could lie without batting an eye. Seeing the satisfied look on the Emperor’s face made her want to laugh.
“Zhian alone understands my heart. Those people couldn’t hold back even a single day after the Left Chancellor was imprisoned — all rushing out to plead with me. Anyone would think this was the Left Chancellor’s court, not mine.”
The Emperor snorted coldly. Qu Zhian and Qiu Peizhen both fell silent.
Qu Zhian and Qiu Peizhen left the hall together. As they exited, Qiu Peizhen leaned in and offered Qu Zhian quiet congratulations.
“Huaicheng, what is there to congratulate?”
“I’m congratulating Lord Qu in advance on his promotion. His Majesty just said you understand his heart — with your abilities, Zhian, moving up will be no trouble at all.”
Qiu Peizhen wasn’t being sarcastic — he was genuinely offering his congratulations.
“I should be the one congratulating you first, Huaicheng. On this trip down south to Jiangnan, be careful. I hear the bandits are fierce, and the local officials are useless. You’ll have your hands full.”
“Sharing the Emperor’s burdens is our duty.”
“Indeed,” Qu Zhian agreed, sighing inwardly.
Just as Xin Lan had predicted, the Left Chancellor was released from prison within three days.
The Left Chancellor’s disciples and those in his faction submitted memorials day after day, kneeling to plead, arguing that the Emperor couldn’t slander a loyal minister. The Emperor was so furious he threw memorials across the Imperial Study — but in the end, he gritted his teeth and let the man go.
This dramatic undertaking, apart from hardening the Emperor’s resolve, also showed him exactly how many people in court stood on the Left Chancellor’s side.
He noted each one down, waiting to root them out in the future.
And so the days appeared to pass without incident, but beneath the surface, things were far from calm.
Xin Lan’s medicine shop had been well taken over by Ah Rou. A pharmacist from the original shop had been kept on, watching over the shop alongside her.
Ah Rou was working hard to learn the ropes. Qu Zhian had been guiding her from the side, and she’d already picked up quite a lot.
Xin Lan had told her what kinds of items she needed, and Ah Rou was procuring them for her.
By late July, the Great Heat6 had arrived.
The weather grew increasingly sweltering, and the cold palace wasn’t any cooler for it.
The inner palace had returned to its usual state — except the Empress had been replaced and Consort Man had fallen. The court now had a three-way balance of power, though the Empress’s faction appeared the weakest.
Everyone had long grown accustomed to Consort Man’s disappearance. After all, the deposed Empress had fallen just as suddenly — and so had Consort Man.
Xin Lan was genuinely living a life of leisure. It was as if this place had been forgotten — as if no storm could ever reach it here.
But the more this was so, the more suspicious she grew.
She had been waiting — waiting for the Emperor to make his next move — but he kept delaying.
Had he really decided to be so magnanimous and let her go? Not planning to torment her further, just letting her grow old and die in this place?
Xin Lan felt that, given Wu Yanqing’s character, that should be impossible.
When she was woken by Zero Nine one night, she knew that — like a dog that couldn’t stop eating shit7 — Wu Yanqing would never let her go.
Her eyes smoldered with suppressed fury, her expression dark.
Since arriving in this mission world, she’d lost count of how many times she’d been woken in the night. If it had been something important each time, fine — but this time it wasn’t.
A puff of knockout smoke drifted in. Xin Lan held her breath and pretended to be unconscious.
Someone pushed open the door and crept inside. No sound from outside — Xin Lan guessed Chun Yue had been caught too.
It was a man. He sneaked to her bedside and reached out to undo her clothes.
Xin Lan opened her eyes and, looking “panicked,” slammed her pillow into the man.
She’d used tremendous force, and this pillow wasn’t some cotton-stuffed soft cushion — one hit knocked him out cold.
Xin Lan got up and stuffed him under her bed.
Zero Nine: “Host, the Emperor’s here. He’s at the door.”
Xin Lan rose, brushed the dust from her clothes, her brow and eyes heavy with suppressed fury.
Was something wrong with the Emperor? Did he especially love being cuckolded? This time he was so eager to catch her in the act of adultery?
He truly deserved to be cuckolded by Consort Man. Someone like this really should be left without descendants.
Using such a filthy trick once wasn’t enough — he’d used it twice.
The first time at least it had been a woman. This time he’d sent a man, and the first thing he did was grab for her chest.
Xin Lan was furious. Waking up angry was one thing — being subjected to this disgusting behavior made her even angrier.
She was barely containing her violent temper. She wanted nothing more than to beat the Emperor senseless right now to vent her frustration.
Wu Yanqing brought only Mei An. He said he wanted to take a stroll to clear his mind — and somehow, this stroll conveniently brought him to the gate of Biyue Palace.
“Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her in quite some time. I wonder if she’s truly here, repenting in sincerity.”
Wu Yanqing sighed, but a faint smile lingered in his eyes.
“Surely she must be. Shall this servant knock?”
Mei An didn’t know why his master was in such fine spirits tonight, wanting to visit the cold palace — but if the master was in the mood, he’d play along.
Wu Yanqing nodded. Mei An stepped forward and knocked.
Two knocks, no answer. He tried pushing — the door opened at once.
Xin Lan’s eyes were dark and heavy. She couldn’t muster a pleasant expression.
She remembered clearly that before she fell asleep, Chun Yue had bolted the front gate. Who knew how that man had gotten in — and had even deliberately opened the door.
She had to strain every fiber of her being to keep from hurling her fists at Wu Yanqing the moment he walked in.
He liked being cuckolded so much? Fine — she’d wish him a lifetime of it.
When Wu Yanqing pushed through the door, he didn’t see the scene he’d imagined. Instead, he saw Xin Lan sitting on the bed in her underclothes, staring straight at him.
For an instant he nearly lost his composure. Looking at Xin Lan’s face, it was as if she knew everything.
“Your Majesty certainly has leisure to spare, coming to my Biyue Palace in the dead of night.”
Wu Yanqing was momentarily speechless. Facing his former wife, he managed to choke out that he was just here to look in on her.
Under the gaze of those dark eyes, he somehow felt the urge to flee.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t properly looked at this face in a long time.
“Now you’ve seen. You can go.”
Xin Lan, suppressing her anger, couldn’t feign a pleasant expression, so she looked somewhat wooden.
Wu Yanqing recalled the arrangement he’d made. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to meet those eyes. He nodded and left in haste.
The moment he stepped outside, he turned back in confusion — where was the man he’d arranged?
He looked back and met those eyes again. A mocking light had risen in them — as if they saw through everything.
Wu Yanqing’s feelings were complicated. A rare pang of regret stirred in his heart.
He had wanted Xin Lan to be humiliated and die here without a shred of dignity. But seeing her in person, he suddenly couldn’t bear it.
Truthfully, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Wu Yanqing knew this.
In the beginning, he’d had some genuine feeling for her. But things had come to this point — and he blamed the Xin family for bringing it upon themselves.
If Xin Lan could hear his thoughts at this moment, she’d probably sneer.
Some genuine feeling?
What kind of genuine feeling meant slipping her a sterility drug in her first year of marriage?
What kind of disgusting “true feeling” was that?
Xin Lan sat on the bed and dragged the man out from under it.
She kicked him awake. The man startled, remembered his mission, gritted his teeth, and lunged to force himself on her.
Xin Lan stomped on his chest, pinning him flat.
“I don’t know how you got in, but you should know who I am. Even as a deposed Empress, I’m not someone a creature like you can defile.”
Xin Lan’s foot shifted downward. The man tried to grab her ankle, but she kicked him viciously in the □□. He let out a muffled grunt and curled up.
“If you love sneaking into palace chambers so much, why not get castrated and become a eunuch?”
Xin Lan’s foot pressed harder, her fists clenching until the knuckles cracked.
“Your Highness, spare my life! Your Highness, spare me!”
The man wore a guard’s uniform. He shouted those words, but his face was dark with malice. He tried to grab Xin Lan’s foot and fight back, but she seized him by the hair and slammed his head into the bedpost, knocking him out cold.
Xin Lan got up, dragged him out to the gate of Biyue Palace, and kept going, dumping him some distance away.
If she hadn’t feared that his disappearance would alert the Emperor, she’d have killed him long ago.
Xin Lan turned and bolted the gate of Biyue Palace. Chun Yue was still lying unconscious in bed — no danger either way — so Xin Lan didn’t wake her.
She sat on the bed, waiting for the right moment.
Zero Nine didn’t dare speak to her at all. The host’s mood was already terrible — now it was to the point where anyone who provoked her was a dead man.
After over an hour, Zero Nine reported that the Emperor had fallen asleep.
Xin Lan rose, leaped onto the rooftop, and headed toward her destination.
She hadn’t settled the score with him the first time. This time, even if she couldn’t quickly drag him down from that lofty position, she was at least going to let out some of her anger.
Wu Yanqing, in light sleep, sensed someone approaching.
He snapped his eyes open, alert — only to find he couldn’t move. He’d been rolled onto his side, facing the wall.
He tried to roar in fury, but found he couldn’t speak.
His heart lurched. His eyes went wide.
If this were an assassin, he’d be as good as dead.
But the person behind him was merely silent, radiating a cold menace.
Wu Yanqing couldn’t speak — couldn’t beg for mercy or call for help.
Xin Lan actually wanted to see the terror and despair on his face, but she couldn’t let Wu Yanqing see her appearance — so she let that go.
“It seems the imperial palace isn’t so impenetrable after all.”
She deliberately made her voice rough and strange, like a grotesque old man.
Wu Yanqing was thinking the same thing. He stared at the wall, a fierce indignation surging in his heart.
He was the most exalted man under heaven — how could he let someone insult him so wantonly?
“I wonder what it feels like to be Emperor. It must be quite exhilarating.”
Xin Lan laughed softly, her dagger slicing through Wu Yanqing’s thin underclothes.
A large expanse of skin was exposed. Xin Lan drove the dagger into Wu Yanqing’s back, then pulled it out. His already rigid body tensed even more sharply from the shock of pain.
“I wonder what this skin would look like peeled off. I don’t have any human skin in my collection yet. If I could collect a full set of an Emperor’s skin, that would be quite perfect.”
Xin Lan’s manufactured voice was hoarse and rough, drawn out with a sinister, piercing quality — the very image of a villain.
Wu Yanqing seethed at being unable to speak — otherwise he’d have ordered this insolent man seized and subjected to every torture in the book.
He wasn’t exactly composed either. If his skin were actually peeled off and he died from it, then years of planning would all go to waste.
Xin Lan wasn’t just saying it — she genuinely wanted to gouge out this man’s heart and liver. But the time hadn’t come yet.
These scum should truly thank the mercy of this mission’s rules — face-slapping was required, otherwise she’d have killed him the moment she arrived.
Blood welled from the wound on his back. Xin Lan didn’t continue cutting — instead, she dipped the tip of her blade in blood and wrote the common script of the State of Wu across his back.
Wu Yanqing’s body, heightened by pain, perceived everything more acutely. As the person traced something across his back, he followed the path of the blade in his mind, piecing together the characters — and the message nearly made him pass out from rage.
“Visited here”?
This man actually dared!
Utterly outrageous!
Xin Lan couldn’t see Wu Yanqing’s reaction. It felt like playing a single-player game — one-sided abuse with no feedback. Rather dull.
So she decided to let Wu Yanqing participate himself. She had a brilliant idea — one that would ensure Wu Yanqing never forgot this night for the rest of his life.
He loved sending people to mess with others, did he? Then he should experience that taste for himself.
Xin Lan’s blade moved downward, pressing against an unmentionable place.
“If I’m not careful, you’ll become a eunuch. That would be most interesting — there’s never been a eunuch Emperor before. I recall you don’t have any children. Could it be you’ve been incapable for some time now?”
The rough voice carried a note of mockery. Wu Yanqing’s face alternated between green and white.
He would kill this man!
“Since it’s a useless decoration, there’s no need for it to exist.”
The blade tip grazed lightly across. Wu Yanqing was so tense he nearly passed out.
Xin Lan felt his skin go taut and smiled, relishing the show.
So the dog knew fear too.
She used the blade to hook open Wu Yanqing’s waistband. As skin was revealed, she had Zero Nine apply a mosaic censor.
She had no desire to look at this trash’s body — it would only burn her eyes.
The mosaic function worked beautifully. In an instant, the offending sight was replaced by a large blur of pixelation.
She could vaguely make out what was where through the censor. Sheathing the blade, Xin Lan used the sharp tip of the scabbard and stabbed it directly into Wu Yanqing.
Wu Yanqing’s eyes bulged with fury. His body trembled incessantly.
This man actually dared!
If he ever found out who this was, he’d chop him to pieces and feed him to the dogs!
How could Xin Lan be gentle? Her retaliatory technique brought Wu Yanqing pure agony.
Xin Lan couldn’t see a thing. The mosaic shield kept her cheerful as she pushed the dagger deeper and deeper.
Inflicting physical torment was deeply satisfying.
How could she vent the seething rage in her heart without teaching someone like this a lesson?
Giving him a taste of his own medicine was the most satisfying method.
If Xin Lan hadn’t feared exposing herself, she’d have tied him up and dumped him in some place of public humiliation.
Let this aloof Emperor taste what it meant to be stripped of all dignity.
Let’s see if he dared use such methods to frame people again. Once wasn’t enough — he’d done it twice. This time she’d thwarted him, but who knew what vicious scheme he’d dream up next.
The more Xin Lan thought about it, the angrier she got. The irritability from her broken sleep surged up again.
The small dagger had been pushed entirely into Wu Yanqing’s body.
Wu Yanqing’s face was a mask of twisted pallor. Sweat beaded on his forehead and soaked through his clothes.
Xin Lan felt a surge of satisfaction and let out a mocking laugh.
“It seems the Emperor’s body isn’t so different from those in the dark alleys. If you were tossed out looking like this, there wouldn’t be a bone left — someone would eat you whole. And they’d even praise you: ‘His Majesty the Emperor is truly a dragon among men — even as a lowly creature, he’s still a cut above the rest.'”
She was deliberately trying to sicken Wu Yanqing — he’d come to sicken her in the middle of the night, after all.
Wu Yanqing was on the verge of passing out from rage. He frantically cursed the person behind him, pouring every venomous oath he could think of onto this unknown figure.
Xin Lan seized the Emperor’s hand and forced him to use his own fingers to push the knife hilt — still not fully embedded — deeper into his body, and then stuffed one of his own fingers in alongside it.
The ultimate humiliation!
Xin Lan folded her arms and pulled her hand back in disgust.
Good thing she hadn’t touched anything. Just thinking about it made her sick.
A cold smile rose to her face. This was merely a light punishment. When Wu Yanqing had nothing left, then he’d really suffer.
This kind of person deserved no sympathy. If he had the guts, he should go after the Xin family and the Left Chancellor directly. Always persecuting the original owner — even coming after her — what kind of man was that? What kind of ability?
There were all kinds of people in the world — but some simply didn’t deserve to be called human.
Wu Yanqing, struck by the twin blows of physical and psychological devastation, couldn’t catch his breath — and passed out from rage.
Xin Lan had nothing else to use and didn’t want to touch Wu Yanqing with her hands. She simply shoved his fingers a bit deeper into his body. Once Zero Nine confirmed the damage was severe enough, she clapped her hands, leaped onto the eaves, replaced the roof tiles, and slipped away into the night.
Satisfying.
The author has something to say:
Commander: Puffed up with rage like a pufferfish!
Lan-jie: Poke.
Commander: Poked it till it deflated qwq
Footnotes
- A martial arts technique in wuxia fiction involving gravity-defying leaps, wall-running, and extraordinary lightness of movement, achieved through breath control and internal energy.
- A Chinese idiom meaning that people are well matched — usually implying they deserve each other, whether for better or worse. The full saying is 'what kind of pot goes with what kind of lid.'
- The senior civil service rank in imperial Chinese government, roughly equivalent to a prime minister or chief minister, heading the executive branch.
- One of China's Five Great Mountains, traditionally a symbol of weighty, immovable significance. The phrase evokes a Chinese idiom: 'one's expression would not change even if Mount Tai collapsed before one's eyes,' describing absolute composure in a crisis.
- In imperial Chinese law, the punishment for high treason could extend to nine generations of a criminal's family — all relatives through blood, marriage, and collateral lines — who would be executed together.
- Dashu, the 12th of the 24 traditional Chinese solar terms, marking the hottest period of midsummer, usually falling around July 22-24.
- A common Chinese idiom meaning that bad habits are ingrained and impossible to change, equivalent to 'a leopard can't change its spots.'
This trash,