Ex-Girlfriend – Chapter 36
by Little PandaPower Overwhelming the Court
Deposed Empress 11
Covering the Sky with One Hand
Xin Lan was rather pleased by Qu Zhian’s words. On second thought, staying the night was not out of the question. In any case, she had handled the Emperor so thoroughly that he probably would not be able to attend morning court tomorrow. He would be too busy looking after himself to spare a thought for her.
With that, Xin Lan nodded.
Qu Zhian’s heart soared, and she did not let go of Xin Lan’s hand as they walked out together like that.
“There’s another side room over here—the one Ah Rou stayed in before,” she said. “But after she moved out, I never tidied it, so I hope you won’t find it too shabby.”
Xin Lan followed Qu Zhian to the side room. Who would have thought the moment the door opened, a rat would dart swiftly under the cabinet.
“Yan Yan, it looks like you really do need to give this place a proper sweep.” Xin Lan was in a good mood, teasing.
Qu Zhian had also caught that fleeting little dark shadow. A little embarrassed, she rubbed her nose. “Well… I guarantee my own room has none. I don’t know when these little things made themselves at home here.”
She muttered, feeling that the room, untouched for dozens of days, was covered in dust, and frowned. “This room absolutely won’t do. Why don’t you suffer the indignity of sharing my bed tonight?”
Qu Zhian asked the question, and suddenly the scene of their first meeting rose in her mind. The warmth of that cheek seemed still to linger, making her face burn at once.
They were both women, yet every time she thought of it, she felt a little shy.
“Of course,” Xin Lan said, “but…”
“But what?”
“I’ve always hated having my sleep disturbed. Yan Yan, you’d better not wake me.”
“Naturally. I don’t have court tomorrow. What’s wrong with sleeping until the sun is high?”
They reached an understanding and, arm in arm, walked toward Qu Zhian’s room.
There was something especially comfortable about this half-drunk state—not too sober, but not so drunk as to cause trouble.
They removed their outer clothes and lay side by side on the bed.
Xin Lan suddenly remembered something. She rolled onto her side, propping her head up as she looked at Qu Zhian. “Yan Yan, with that breast binder wrapped tightly around you every day, doesn’t it hurt?”
Binding your chest was no pleasant thing. If you were naturally flat, it might be fine, but those with more to bind had to wrench themselves into a man’s shape. Taking it off would surely leave bruises.
At Xin Lan’s mention of it, Qu Zhian’s face practically steamed. “N-no… it doesn’t hurt… It wasn’t really… And I’m used to it… So I don’t really feel anything.”
She faltered through the words. She had never thought it bad before—after all, it made dressing as a man much easier. But now, thinking of Xin Lan’s softness, she felt an indescribable frustration.
It was not envy, exactly, but something more complicated—an emotion Qu Zhian did not know how to express.
Xin Lan’s concern made her feel warm inside, very comfortable.
“As long as it doesn’t hurt,” Xin Lan said. “Then sleep quickly. You don’t need to worry about asking for leave tomorrow—the Emperor won’t be in the mood for morning court either.”
A mocking laugh escaped her. If the Emperor could still go to morning court with a straight face after what had happened, she really would have to think better of him.
“Oh? Did something happen?”
“I only heard that he’s unwell. Sleep now.”
Xin Lan lay flat. She asked Zero Nine for something to repel mosquitoes. The spray was a silent type. She held it in her palm, gave two sprays, and put it away.
Qu Zhian nodded and closed her eyes too.
Deep in sleep, in a daze, she somehow felt tonight was much cooler than usual. Even the annoying mosquitoes did not come to bother them.
Here they slept sweetly, while in the palace, someone was stewing in fury.
Wu Yanqing waited with difficulty for the acupoint effects to wear off. When he found he could move again, his whole body was numb.
He had been struck while lying on his side; now that he could move, inertia sent him flat onto his back.
Those fingers were still inside him. Because of that inertial fall, they sank even deeper.
Wu Yanqing’s face twisted into something even uglier. The moment his hand could move, he pulled them out hastily.
Tonight was the most humiliating day in his twenty-six years of life. He, the dignified Son of Heaven, had actually been treated like that inside his own palace, in his own bedchamber.
And that person had escaped without a trace, face unseen, identity unknown.
The pain in his back remained. The bloodstains had probably dried by now. Thinking of that arrogant ‘I was here’ message, he wanted to find the person, tear their corpse into pieces, and feed them to the dogs.
He dug the dagger out of his own body. As he worked, his face flushed red, then went white. With difficulty, he managed to remove the thing that had been fully driven into him.
The dagger was utterly ordinary, as if bought from a street stall. It bore no identifying marks—only the blood left from its crude entry.
Wu Yanqing felt sick at the sight of that blood. His stomach churned. The pain in his back and the indescribable place behind him made him even more agitated.
He slammed the dagger to the floor and shouted an order for the eunuchs outside to bring water. He wanted to bathe.
He tried to sit up. The wound in his back stretched, sending waves of pain. Even worse was the place between his legs. His eyes were bloodshot. Helplessly, he took a few duck-waddled steps, his thighs spread wide, humiliated and furious, smashing everything within reach.
Mei An stood guard outside the door, not knowing what had angered his master so, his heart trembling with fear.
After hot water was carried in, several palace maids stepped forward to attend him, but the Emperor’s dark expression drove them back.
“There is no need for anyone to attend me here,” he said. “Go fetch an imperial physician.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Wu Yanqing soaked in the hot water, fingers clenched into fists, enduring the stabbing pain from the wound on his back as he washed his injured lower body.
The imperial physician arrived, but Wu Yanqing did not speak, so he did not dare enter and waited in the outer chamber.
Only when Wu Yanqing felt he had washed himself clean, and the words written in blood on his back had probably washed away, did he slowly put on his trousers and shuffle back to bed, bare-chested, waiting for the physician to apply medicine.
The physician came in. Seeing the stab wound on the Emperor’s back, his heart gave a lurch. He began applying medicine in silence.
“Would Your Majesty like me to prescribe a few doses of blood-nourishing, qi-boosting medicine?”
“Mm.”
The physician gathered up the medicine bottles. As he prepared to leave, the Emperor called him back.
“The other day I summoned a beauty to attend me in bed,” Wu Yanqing said. “I was a little too vigorous and hurt myself. Do you have a salve that can soothe and heal?”
“We do. This minister1 will prepare it immediately and bring it to Your Majesty once it’s ready.”
The physician understood at once and nodded.
Wu Yanqing inclined his head, and the physician hurriedly withdrew.
Once the man was gone, Wu Yanqing’s expression finally changed. The jianghu2 and the court had always kept out of each other’s affairs. He had not yet fully consolidated power. If he made a great commotion investigating someone he might not even catch, the ministers would surely submit memorials criticizing him.
But this grievance was hard to swallow. The commander of the Imperial Guard, of all people, happened to be his own man. If he ordered a severe punishment, he would be loath to do it—after all, this was a piece he had cultivated with great effort.
Because of his physical discomfort, Wu Yanqing tossed and turned for a long time, unable to sleep.
Once the physician had prepared the medicine, he hurriedly brought it over. Wu Yanqing held the porcelain bottle, his face dark.
As he extended a finger to apply the medicine to himself, he remembered that person’s mocking words.
He was so angry he wanted to smash the thing in his hand, but he forcibly held back.
Daylight came the next morning, and warm sunlight spilled over the earth.
Qu Zhian opened her eyes with a slight headache and saw Xin Lan nestled beside her. Last night they had been lying properly apart; now most of Xin Lan’s body was pressed against hers.
Xin Lan’s sleeping face was peaceful, showing a softness rarely seen when she was awake.
Qu Zhian gazed at her. Her headache eased somewhat as she watched Xin Lan sleep.
But before long, Xin Lan opened her eyes. Her dark pupils met Qu Zhian’s exactly.
“What is Yan Yan looking at?”
Anyone who woke up to find someone staring at them would find it rather strange.
“Nothing,” Qu Zhian said. “I was just spacing out.”
She denied it, pretending to come back to her senses. Xin Lan did not press further and rose from the bed.
Her clothes still carried the lingering smell of last night’s wine. Qu Zhian was better off—she had clothes to change into. Xin Lan was about to pick up yesterday’s old clothes to wear, but Qu Zhian stopped her.
“These clothes are already dirty. Why don’t I go out and buy you a set? If it’s not convenient for you to return to the palace during the day, we can spend the whole day together, and you can go back after nightfall. It must be ages since you’ve gone out to play.”
Qu Zhian looked at Xin Lan hopefully. If they could spend a whole day together, would they not be able to have tea and do all sorts of interesting things?
Xin Lan thought it feasible and nodded. “Buy something in subdued colors—not too eye-catching. Best of all, bring me back a veil too. If we run into anyone I know on the road, it will be disastrous.”
The capital was neither large nor small. Though the original owner had not appeared in public much, and before her marriage had rarely gone out to meet people, she had been Empress for several years after all. Even if she was no longer Empress now, those officials and their families who had seen her would still recognize her face.
Speaking of which, these missions probably shaped the host’s appearance to some extent. Otherwise, how could the names be exactly the same, and even their looks somewhat similar?
Qu Zhian listened to her instructions and nodded.
Then she went out, leaving Xin Lan alone in the room wearing only her inner garments. Xin Lan first studied the furnishings, then pushed open the door to look at the other rooms.
The courtyard was neither big nor small. There were three rooms in total: one where Qu Zhian slept, another that served as a guest room though it was not often used, and a third that was Qu Zhian’s study.
Xin Lan did not barge in without her host’s permission. She merely stood at the window and peered inside twice, seeing the books arranged there and some scrolls of calligraphy and painting hanging on the walls. Then she returned to the room, lay back down, and closed her eyes.
Qu Zhian returned with clothes and a veil and placed them in front of Xin Lan. Xin Lan dressed, washed up briefly, and prepared to go out for breakfast with Qu Zhian.
“There’s a wonton stall down an alley that’s very good,” Qu Zhian said happily. “I’ll take you.”
She wanted to share every good meal and amusement she knew with Xin Lan.
They closed the door, locked it, and went out together. Xin Lan’s hand was held by Qu Zhian, and she did not resist, letting herself be led.
The road was alive with human bustle, an atmosphere impossible in the cold palace.
They reached the wonton stall Qu Zhian had mentioned. The old woman wiping down the tables broke into a smile.
“Young Master, here again?” she said. “Oh, and you’ve brought Madam with you this time?”
So cutee
The ‘was here’ still killing me🤣
So cutee
The ‘was here’ still killing me🤣