Several months of this strange yet peaceful existence were suddenly disrupted by “joyous news.”
It began with Daisi’s poor appetite. Thinking she might be ill, the man anxiously sent for a physician.
After examining her, the doctor beamed and bowed to the man: “Congratulations, your wife is with child.”
But instead of joy, the man’s face showed only shock and complexity. He dismissed the doctor, then turned to gaze at Daisi with a troubled expression.
Daisi was overjoyed, gently touching her belly, her smile irrepressible. But when she looked up at the man, she saw his gloomy face and felt a sense of foreboding.
“My lord, can we marry now?” Daisi asked tentatively.
The man responded with irritation and left the room.
That day was Daisi’s most painful. She caressed her belly, unsure whether to laugh or cry, wondering why the father of her child looked so distressed.
That night, the man didn’t return. Daisi tossed and turned, finally falling into a light sleep. She woke to the sound of the door opening.
The room was dark. A shadowy figure entered. As she was about to rise and greet him, she heard him chanting something unintelligible. Her consciousness began to blur, and she fell into a deep sleep.
It seemed she slept for a very long time. When she finally woke, her first instinct was to touch her belly. It was flat – her child was gone. Tears welled up as she looked down to confirm, but she fell back into unconsciousness.
She thought she was constantly sleeping but soon realized this wasn’t the case.
Sometimes she’d suddenly wake to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings, her hands covered in blood, surrounded by corpses. She realized she had been killing people. Before she could process this, her consciousness was taken away again.
Another long period of sleep followed.
This cycle repeated until one awakening when she saw many people who looked exactly like her, wearing the same clothes, training under the leadership of someone whose face she couldn’t see clearly. She stood to the side, watching it all.
After so many repetitions, she finally realized her body had been forcibly inhabited by another soul.
She approached the man, demanding to know what he had done to her. She hadn’t killed anyone – those strange acts were committed by someone else using her body.
The man raised his hand, gently caressing her face, causing her guard to drop slightly.
In that moment of weakness, her consciousness suddenly blurred, and she fell into another long period of unconsciousness. When she next awoke, it was to recent events.
Perhaps because she was far from that man, her body began to lose control.
“This Lai Luori has harmed many,” Zhu Yan shook her head. She had thought Lai Luori, seeming gloomy and uninterested in women, focused only on power and politics. She never imagined he had such a romantic past. It was hard to believe.
Shen Du’s eyes darkened, as black as the night: “Lai Luori’s heart is twisted. He practices evil arts, using witchcraft to control others to do his bidding. His crimes are unforgivable. Death is too good for him.”
They had previously thought Lai Luori was just cruel, inventing terrible torture devices for officials. Now they realized his level of evil completely surpassed their understanding.
Pan Chi related more scenes Daisi had glimpsed during her brief periods of consciousness. Jing Lin recorded them while Zhu Yan listened, unable to bear it. Shen Du’s eyes darkened further as he tightly gripped Zhu Yan’s hand to comfort her.
When Pan Chi finished, his shoulders shook with anger, his eyes blazing. Zhu Yan asked in confusion: “Pan Chi, what’s wrong?”
Pan Chi, usually so carefree, now did not attempt to hide his fury. He said sorrowfully: “She says she can’t remember the man’s name. No matter how hard she tries to recall, it’s as if someone deliberately covered up that part. The harder she tries to see clearly, the blurrier it becomes.”
Zhu Yan looked at Shen Du. He pressed his lips together: “Of course, she can’t see clearly. This is Lai Luori’s style,” he paused, “leaving no trace of evidence.”
Zhu Yan moved closer to Shen Du, feeling that Lai Luori was too cold-blooded. To erase the memories of a woman who loved him so deeply, all for some unspeakable purpose – it was terrifying.
Daisi had once been Wusun’s revered holy maiden. How could Lai Luori bear to do this?
Suddenly, Su Guang screamed. Everyone looked closely – it was Daisi, clutching her head and groaning in pain, trying to endure.
It seemed Lai Luofu’s consciousness was trying to regain control of the body.
But Daisi didn’t want to give in. That person, whoever she was, had committed terrible crimes.
She had used Daisi’s body to harm so many people.
Daisi drove her severed arm into the ground, using pain to maintain control of the body. But as pain spread throughout her body, she knew she was about to lose consciousness again.
She raised her head to look at Su Guang. The last trace of kindness in her eyes faded, replaced by anger.
Lai Luofu’s consciousness had returned.
Everyone present was filled with rage. Su Guang, seeing the change in her eyes, stood frozen, unable to react. She couldn’t believe what Wusun’s holy maiden had endured.
“Lai Luofu!” Pan Chi drew Jing Lin’s sword, intending to end her, but Shen Du stopped him.
“Damn you, Shen Du, don’t stop me.”
Shen Du, barely containing his anger, said: “If she dies, we’ll learn nothing.”
Su Guang also came to her senses, hurriedly saying: “Don’t be rash. If she dies, Daisi dies too. She’s innocent.”
This made sense. Pan Chi realized his actions had been too extreme. He tossed the sword back to Jing Lin and stood by, waiting for Shen Du to finish questioning so he could end her immediately after.
Daisi?
The name sounded familiar to Lai Luofu, but their consciousnesses couldn’t communicate. Before she could understand the connection, her thoughts were interrupted by pain. The agony of poisoning was unbearable, especially the “chrysalis to butterfly” process. As Lai Luori’s sister, she had lived in luxury for years. She had never endured such suffering and humiliation.
Now she was in a living hell. Without the antidote, Lai Luofu would truly die here.
She didn’t want to die.
Her vision blurry, she looked at Shen Du, who still held the antidote. Seeing her gaze, he smirked contemptuously. Lai Luofu was nearly mad with desperation: “Please, give me the antidote.”
Her tone was harsh, either from pain or stubborn pride.
Without the antidote, she could foresee her death – suffocating alive in agony as she formed a cocoon.
These ways of dying were too wretched to imagine.
Staring at Lai Luofu, Shen Du asked slowly: “Are you Lai Luofu?”
A strange question.
“Of course I am.”
“How can you prove it?” Shen Du eyed her playfully, tapping the porcelain vial with his jade ring, a hint of threat in his manner.
Lai Luofu was on the verge of a breakdown, silently cursing everyone in the room: “I even know where his birthmark is and what it looks like. What more proof do you need?”
Shen Du showed no reaction: “If you don’t give me the antidote, Lai Luori will target the Zhu family first.”
Her threat had no effect.
Shen Du seemed uninterested in her answer. He caressed his jade ring, his dark eyes like deep pools: “If you want the antidote, you answer my questions.”
“Fine.” As long as she could live to return, it didn’t matter what Shen Du knew. She was doomed either way.
Shen Du casually tossed the vial behind him, caught by Jing Lin. He led Zhu Yan to sit down, standing beside her chair. Seeing Lai Luofu’s impatience from the pain, he finally spoke:
“What do you know about the massacre of the Shen family years ago?”