Chapter 1: Dream

Chu Zhao felt as though she had plunged into a stormy sea. Dark clouds covered the sky, obscuring the sun in pitch blackness, while she rose and fell among the towering waves.

The seawater alternately crushed her and tore at her like countless arms. During these moments, her entire body was lacerated, the pain so intense that even her bones seemed to scream.

Sometimes everything would become calm. During these times, she would drift with the rising and falling water, swaying so comfortably that she wanted nothing more than to sink to the ocean floor and fall into a deep sleep.

But each time she was about to fall asleep, noise would ring in her ears—the sound of clashing swords, sounds of slaughter—and she would jolt awake, wanting to know what was happening.

Xie Yanlai!

Mother!

She struggled desperately to open her eyes, and the noise in her ears became clear.

“—The road ahead is blocked—”

“—I know where there’s another path—”

“—Follow Rat Woman—”

“—Auntie, Auntie—Ding Dachui can’t go on—”

“—Auntie, Auntie—Chu Zhao can’t go on either—”

“Wuu wuu wuu, Auntie—I can’t go on either—”

Hearing this, Chu Zhao actually felt like laughing, and even wanted to call out to Xiao Man, “Don’t be afraid, if the three of us can’t go on, at least we’ll have each other for company.”

She called out in her heart, unable to hear her own voice, but she heard a gentle female voice.

“Don’t be afraid. Auntie is here. None of you will die.”

Chu Zhao felt her rising and falling body gradually stabilize, even beginning to feel warmth instead of cold and emptiness.

She seemed to be pressed against someone’s body—soft and warm. Firelight seeped through the cracks of her eyes. She saw flickering light and shadows, the night, torches, and wind whooshing past her vision—

Her hazy gaze fell forward and saw disheveled hair and a fair, slender neck.

“Mother,” she said.

She didn’t know if she had spoken aloud, because she couldn’t hear herself, but the person in front turned their head. In the dim light and shadows, she saw a gentle face.

“Good child,” she said softly. “Mother is here.”

Mother… Chu Zhao gazed hazily at this face. This was Mu Mianhong.

This was her mother.

“Mother,” Chu Zhao murmured. “Consort Liang said you died. And also, I was poisoned. Xiao Xun poisoned me.”

An arm wrapped around her waist and patted firmly.

“Zhao Zhao, Mother won’t die, and you won’t die either,” Mu Mianhong’s voice was firm and strong. “Mother is carrying you on her back. You have nothing to fear.”

Good child, Zhao Zhao—no one had ever called her that before.

Chu Zhao remembered seeing how Chu Tang and Jiang Shi interacted. Chu Tang would nestle beside Jiang Shi, and Jiang Shi would stroke her shoulder and call her “my child.” Back then, she would wonder—if her mother were still alive, what would she call her?

So this was how it would be.

Mother called her “good child,” called her “Zhao Zhao.”

The pet names spoken by Mother sounded so beautiful.

Chu Zhao pressed closer to Mu Mianhong and reached her hand around to hug her waist tightly.

How wonderful.

Mother hadn’t died.

Mother had come to save her.

With Mother here, she wasn’t afraid at all.

Her body sank once more into the seawater, and her consciousness fell into chaos. She couldn’t feel the sounds of the outside world, and finally, she couldn’t even feel her body’s movements.

She seemed to have disappeared, yet also seemed to have landed somewhere—cold, hard. The noise in her ears drifted near and far, as if many people were running about, crying out.

This clamor stirred wave after wave in her murky consciousness, washing over her, making her rigid body once again rise and fall with it.

A scream crashed over her like a giant wave, and hot liquid splashed onto her. Chu Zhao’s mouth and nose were suddenly blocked. The next moment, she gasped for air and her eyes flew open. What met her gaze was a sheet of crimson.

Blood.

Then she saw a corpse that had been cut in half.

The corpse was dressed in magnificent palace robes.

Screams rang in her ears once more.

“Your Majesty, quickly come inside, hide—”

“Ahh—”

“—Don’t you dare come any closer—”

“—My brother—Liang Qiang is my brother—”

“Don’t kill me—”

Liang Qiang? Chu Zhao’s consciousness coalesced. She looked forward with effort and saw the palace doors, saw the palace maids and eunuchs lying fallen by the doors, saw a young woman standing by the entrance. Though she couldn’t see her face, she could see her alluring figure, and her robes were also very familiar.

Empress ceremonial robes.

Those were Empress ceremonial robes.

The fighting at the palace doors seemed to have stopped. The alluring woman let out a joyful cry, “Brother—”

She lifted her foot and rushed forward.

“Brother, I knew you would come save me—”

But she had barely taken a step when she let out a miserable scream.

Chu Zhao saw an arrow pierce through her.

She fell down, crashed to the ground and twisted, half her face turning toward this direction.

Chu Zhao clearly saw her delicate face, her large eyes.

“Brother—I’m your sister—why—” she murmured. Before she could finish, she moved no more. Her eyes remained wide open, filled with terror and disbelief.

Consort Liang. Chu Zhao’s lips moved. This face was both strange and familiar—she had brought her a cup of poisoned wine. Before her death, she had memorized this face, but it was strange—Chu Zhao’s thoughts froze. Strange because it felt like she hadn’t seen it in a long time.

Why hadn’t she seen it in a long time?

She felt her thoughts heavy and muddy. Memories slowly surfaced. She remembered—she had died.

She had been given a cup of poisoned wine by Xiao Xun and died so that his new favorite, Lady Liang, could become Empress. Because Uncle Zhong had died, the Liang father and son now controlled military power—

The Liang father and son, Liang Qiang.

But why did Liang Qiang kill his own sister?

“General Liang—Consort Liang is dead,” a voice called out.

“Take the body and show it to the Third Young Master,” a male voice said. “Xiao Xun’s remnants have been eliminated.”

Guards came forward and dragged away the corpse at the palace doors. Someone approached and stood to the side, looking down at Consort Liang on the ground.

Chu Zhao also looked up at him.

This person wore military robes, held a crossbow in his hand, had a sword hanging at his waist, and his armor and robes were covered in bloodstains.

This was Liang Qiang—familiar yet strange. Familiar because she felt she had just seen him, strange because he had grown a short beard and seemed several years older.

His features were even more grim, his eyes utterly indifferent.

Liang Qiang killed his own sister?

What had he just said? Xiao Xun’s remnants? Third Young Master?

Chu Zhao felt her thoughts somewhat chaotic, but it also didn’t seem wrong. Xiao Xun had married Consort Liang, and the person behind Liang Qiang was Xie Yanfang.

“The Third Young Master has arrived—”

With this announcement, Liang Qiang withdrew his gaze and looked behind him, his posture straightening, showing fear.

Chu Zhao also looked over, but that person seemed very tall. No matter how much she raised her head, she couldn’t see them—only moon-white robes.

“My lord,” Liang Qiang said respectfully with a bow. “The newly appointed Empress Liang by Xiao Xun has been eliminated.”

A male voice hummed lightly in response, then said with some curiosity, “What’s inside here?”

“My lord, this is the residence of the late Empress Chu,” a guard said. “Empress Chu died but was never buried. Her coffin is placed here.”

Chu Zhao watched the robes sway as the person stepped over the threshold and walked inside.

“Empress Chu, so this is that Empress Chu?” he said, his voice carrying amusement. “I’ve cursed her for so long, but I’ve never actually seen her in person.”

A guard followed him in, trying to dissuade him. “My lord, it’s been so long, she won’t look proper. Don’t defile your eyes, my lord.”

Yes, before she died, she had been ill for so long, and then she drank poisoned wine and died in agony. Her face must have been twisted and frightening. Chu Zhao instinctively reached up to touch her face, but the next moment, she was shocked to discover she had no hands—what extended out was a thin, black feeler.

Chu Zhao stared in shock at her feeler, and also saw the moon-white robes walk past in front of her.

“So this is Empress Chu,” he said. “Nothing special.”

At this, he seemed to amuse himself with his own words.

“All the people in this world are just like this.”

Yes, no one in this world can compare to you. You, Third Young Master Xie, look down on everyone. All you see are ants. Chu Zhao turned her head and saw a coffin behind her.

She also saw the young master standing before the coffin.

The young master had hair black as ink, a face white as jade, a profile sharp as if carved by blade, and amusement in his eyes.

She was not at all unfamiliar with him, including the expression on his face. It seemed that just recently, she had been looking at this very face.

However, if Empress Chu lay in the coffin, then she—Chu Zhao looked down at herself and discovered she had become a pillbug.

A pillbug!

She crawled rapidly, threading past the corpse on the ground, climbing up the coffin, looking down inside—

She saw herself.

Withered, decayed, strange—herself.

Memories surged over her like water. She had died, killed by Xiao Xun, but she hadn’t died—had she become a pillbug?

That’s right. During her period of confinement, Xiao Xun no longer set foot there, and palace servants rarely came. The palace was desolate, with snakes, insects, mosquitoes, and flies everywhere.

Lying on her sickbed, she would see pillbugs crawling past. From initially being frightened and screaming, she became accustomed to them, and later even fed these insects with food.

Chu Zhao stared blankly at the thought, gazing into the coffin, when the young master’s voice rang in her ears again.

“So Empress Chu just died like this. But dead is dead—indeed useless,” he said. “Useless to both Xiao Xun and to me.”

Useless.

Chu Zhao raised her head, clinging to the coffin. She could see the young master’s face more clearly, see the coldness in his eyes.

Ha, ha, ha. So not long after Xiao Xun killed her, this rebel Xie Yanfang breached the capital?

But while the memory was like this, something still seemed wrong.

“My lord—” A guard rushed in from outside. “Xiao Xun has been killed by Young Master Yanlai—”

Yanlai?

Chu Zhao stood frozen. This name—so familiar.

“However, Xiao Xun set the palace ablaze,” the guard’s voice continued. “Young Master Yanlai is still inside. Should we extinguish the fire?”

Xie Yanfang said, “Xiao Xun can be considered truly ruthless.” His voice carried amusement. “Surround the palace well. No need to extinguish the fire. Our A’Jiu is even more ruthless—he definitely won’t let Xiao Xun escape alive.”

A’Jiu? This name struck her heart like a bolt of lightning.

A’Jiu—

She suddenly lunged forward—

Then fell toward the coffin.

The next moment, someone caught her with their hand.

“Oh my, what’s this?” He lifted two fingers, looking at the small black insect struggling between them.

“A pillbug,” the guard said. “My lord, throw it away quickly. With a dead person laid out in this palace, it’s very filthy.”

The young master didn’t throw away the insect. He smiled. “I’ve killed countless people. How could I fear filth?”

He sat down nearby, completely unconcerned by the dust on the chair. His arm rested on the armrest as he twirled the small black insect between his fingers.

“My lord.”

Officers surged in from outside, laughing loudly.

“Congratulations, my lord. Felicitations, my lord.”

“Xiao Xun has self-immolated. The wicked Empress has been eliminated. The traitor Deng Yi’s head hangs on the city gates.”

The young master showed no mirth, saying coolly, “Even with these traitors dead, they cannot bring back the Crown Prince, Elder Sister, and A’Yu.”

“My lord, the Crown Prince, Crown Princess, and young prince can rest in peace knowing this,” the officers said. Then they exchanged glances, knelt on one knee, and said, “My lord—please, for the sake of the Crown Prince and Crown Princess, accept the realm of Great Xia—”

More people outside knelt down, their voices shaking the heavens.

“We beseech you, my lord, to accept the realm—”

The small black insect grew dizzy being turned between the fingers. When it finally stopped, it saw the young master’s face, cold as jade.

“Is that all?” he murmured to himself. “Such an easy thing. How boring.”

Chu Zhao suddenly felt the fingers holding her apply pressure. The next moment, she would be crushed.

She struggled with all her might.

No, she couldn’t die. Wait—she was already dead. But still, she couldn’t die. Even as a small insect, she couldn’t die. She had to go see, had to go see—

A’Jiu, that A’Jiu—

As if disturbed by her struggling, the young master’s gaze turned toward her.

“This little insect seems unwilling to die,” he said, a trace of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. “But even if you don’t die, little insect, what can you do?”

He flicked his hand.

The small black insect was flicked away, flying through the air.

The world spun. Chu Zhao struggled to move her body in midair, trying to go outside—

A’Jiu.

A’Jiu.

Her previously clear vision became blurred again—torches, darkness, flashing blades, sounds of slaughter, shouts, and perhaps even laughter.

Horse hooves galloping. A face burst in. His head and face were wrapped, a pair of eyes shining brightly. He tossed a dagger in his hand.

“Hey, you’re a spy. You stole my letter,” he shouted. “Will you talk or not? If you don’t talk, I’ll kill you—”

The dagger flashed with cold light as it flew toward her.

But the next moment, the dagger flew from the distance, piercing his heart. He stood on a cliff, covered in blood, looking down. He called softly, “Chu Zhao—”

Chu Zhao fell toward the ground. She reached out with all her strength. “A’Jiu—”

The moment she hit the ground, she bolted upright, gasping for air, her eyes frantic, reaching forward.

A hand grasped hers, warm and strong.

“Here, we’re here,” a gentle female voice said. “Mother is here.”

Chu Zhao’s murky vision gradually focused and she saw the person before her.

“Mother?” she murmured.

Mu Mianhong nodded. “Yes, Mother. I’m here.”

Mother…

Surging memories engulfed Chu Zhao like a tide. She exhaled a long breath. “Mother, I had such a long nightmare—”

With these words, she once again fell into darkness.