Qingxuan Pavilion was large and also desolate.

The flowers and trees planted in the south courtyard had withered by more than half. The ground was covered with scattered dead leaves blown by the wind.

If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, Qun Qing wouldn’t have imagined that her former rival, Good Lady Zheng, lived in such poor conditions.

Qun Qing hadn’t done rough manual labor in a long time and swept the courtyard rather clumsily.

Lan Yue hurriedly brought over a bucket of water and threw it on the ground: “You also clean inside the pavilion.”

“Yes.”

Lan Yue was Zheng Zhiyi’s clothing maid, also the female servant who’d reminded the good lady about propriety that day. She stood under the eaves, seeing Qun Qing was fairly obedient, and let out a disdainful cold snort: “What use is being so calculating?”

Qun Qing said nothing and dumped the fallen leaves into the south courtyard fence.

No wonder—on the day of palace maid selection, she’d performed the act of fawning on superiors and trampling inferiors to perfection, leaving too poor an impression in the palace maids’ hearts.

Before thoroughly understanding Qingxuan Hall’s circumstances, what Qun Qing did was what Matron Zhang had instructed: bow her head.

Lan Yue took a story book into the hall. Zheng Zhiyi’s sleeping chamber had been thrown into chaos by her own antics. She’d tried on all her clothes and now stood barefoot in a pile of disheveled garments asking: “Has His Majesty summoned me?”

“His Majesty is very busy…”

“What about Her Majesty the Empress?”

Lan Yue couldn’t bear it: “My lady, she’s also very busy…”

“I want to see His Majesty. I want His Majesty to give me something to do.” Zheng Zhiyi was after all just a young lady in her teens. Before her personal maid, her eyes reddened. “Have me go cook, have me go tend horses—anything works. What about Yang Fu? Has she seen His Majesty? Is Li Xuan at her place?”

Lan Yue embraced her: “Good lady, you’re already a good lady now—you don’t need to do these things!”

“What… Yang Fu is sick again? I wanted to scold her to relieve my boredom. How can she be so fragile? This Chu princess’s heart is smaller than a needle point. When will she recover?”

Qun Qing pricked up her ears to eavesdrop. A few lines of dialogue drifted to her ears, making her expression somewhat freeze.

This Zheng Zhiyi—how was she different from what she remembered?

In her previous life, she only remembered Zheng Zhiyi frequently speaking without restraint, poking at Yang Fu’s sore spots, opposing Yang Fu in every aspect of life, making the Princess unable to eat, frequently washing her face with tears, wishing she could eliminate her immediately.

At the time, Qun Qing worried for the Princess and felt Zheng Zhiyi was full of malice. When fighting against her, she’d shown no mercy. She’d never imagined that the provocation was actually due to loneliness.

The noble mistress was crying, yet within that enormous courtyard, the laughter of other palace maids faintly drifted, along with a young girl’s struggling pleas for mercy.

Qingxuan Hall’s other three palace maids—A’Meng and A’Jiang were pulling Ruo Chan to play long cards at the north courtyard stone table. Ruo Chan’s cheeks were covered with paper strips representing debts, and they were about to clip a silver clothespin used for hanging laundry onto her nose.

Qun Qing was originally a spy—when moving through the palace, she kept a low profile whenever possible. Walking past these people, hearing Ruo Chan crying so miserably, she turned back: “Don’t palace rules forbid gambling?”

“Set your mind at ease.” A’Meng forcefully threw down a long card. “No one comes to this place anyway. Even if we violate palace rules, no one will see!”

After Zheng Zhiyi was enfeoffed as good lady, Crown Prince Li Xuan had only come once total. Now he hadn’t set foot in Qingxuan Pavilion for half a year, making this place almost become a cold palace.

With Zheng Zhiyi having no heart to manage things, the servants also became lazy and insolent.

Qun Qing reached out to remove the clip from Ruo Chan’s nose, glanced at it, and smiled slightly: “Don’t you know why she’s crying so loudly? It’s very painful. This will leave scars.”

Ruo Chan turned to look at her in amazement, as if unable to believe someone would bother with such affairs. Her eyes and nose were both bright red.

After speaking, Qun Qing left.

A’Meng and A’Jiang watched Qun Qing’s departing back in surprise and exchanged glances. A’Meng said: “Ruo Chan, from now on someone will replace you.”

They pushed her threateningly: “Go quickly!”

Qun Qing was sweeping the front courtyard when Ruo Chan came over sobbing and threw a cloth at her feet: “The side hall is also yours to clean.”

Having said this, Ruo Chan kept her head lowered looking at her toes, hands gripping her skirt, not daring to look at Qun Qing’s face.

Naturally she also didn’t see a skylark flutter down from the trees, land on Qun Qing’s shoulder for an instant, then fly away.

“Since I have to do so much work, I’ll probably return very late tonight. Remember to leave a lamp for me.” Qun Qing’s tone was calm. She picked up the cloth, concealed the wax pellet the skylark had delivered, and walked past the guilt-stricken Ruo Chan—

As sunset approached dusk, the议事 in Taiji Hall had just concluded.

Coming and going palace attendants and off-duty officials were hard to distinguish in the dimness—one could only barely judge status by the color of official robes.

Qun Qing stood behind tall, towering cypress groves. After a moment, a man in light crimson robes appeared beside her: “Liu Niang, what are you doing!”

Turning her head, she saw a young, handsome face—it was Qun Qing’s childhood friend who’d also become a Nan Chu spy, Lin Yujia.

Her unusual behavior had indeed provoked a reaction from other spies in the palace. Lin Yujia had used a skylark to send her a message requesting a meeting—he’d probably come to hold her accountable.

“Didn’t we already plan everything? You go to Princess Bao’an’s side, then have the Princess recommend you to the Six Bureaus. If that doesn’t work, you return to the Palace Service Bureau and find another opportunity.” Lin Yujia’s face showed several parts anger, several parts confusion. “What kind of person is that Good Lady Zheng? Not one of us knows her! Her palace has absolutely none of our people—it’s far too inconvenient for passing messages.”

That’s exactly what she wanted—inconvenience, Qun Qing thought.

Lin Yujia loved glory and achievement, always assigning her tasks that were difficult to complete.

In her previous life, the first assassination mission she received was at year’s end this year. She originally didn’t know how to assassinate, but because she did everything too cleanly to preserve her life, later all the assassination tasks were given to her, forcibly transforming her from a cultured princess’s study companion into an assassin.

Qun Qing didn’t want to be an assassin.

If she still let Lin Yujia conveniently contact her and lived a life licking blood from knife edges, she might not survive two days before dying again.

She needed to find a place to recuperate. Fortunately, the cook in Good Lady Zheng’s palace had excellent culinary skills and made delicious food…

Qun Qing calculated these matters in her heart but didn’t show it on her face. After a long while, she said with forbearance: “Tell the Princess I have my considerations. That Zheng Zhiyi doesn’t get along with the Princess and always secretly schemes to harm her. This time you saw it—she wanted to strike the Princess! I’m more useful in Zheng Zhiyi’s palace and also have opportunities to get close to the Crown Prince.”

Lin Yujia stared fixedly at Qun Qing’s profile, seeing several parts of that cool forbearance that once made his heart yield. A few parts of guilt arose in his heart—guilt that he’d actually suspected Qun Qing just now.

Qun Qing was very opinionated—he’d known this since childhood. As a spy, she was undoubtedly a sharp blade, but to use this sharp blade, one had to accept the cost of being cut by her at any time. This troubled Lin Yujia, her superior, greatly.

Qun Qing cared too much about the Princess, which made her ruin great plans over small impatience—actually thinking of using such roundabout methods as infiltrating the enemy side to help the Princess.

“You mean you can control Zheng Zhiyi and secretly help the Princess become Crown Princess, then control the Crown Prince?” Lin Yujia sighed. “You’re confused, you’re shortsighted! What can a horse bandit’s daughter accomplish? She’s just an insignificant nobody not worth worrying about—no need to waste yourself on her. Moreover, she’s already fallen from favor. Li Xuan is堂堂 Crown Prince—can you get close just because you want to?”

He flicked his sleeve: “Rather than counting on you to approach Li Xuan, it would be faster to persuade Princess Bao’an to understand the big picture and submit to Prince Yan sooner.”

Qun Qing’s gaze flashed like a cold blade: “In such a rush—why don’t you go submit yourself?”

Lin Yujia choked: “Whenever the Princess is mentioned, you become unreasonable.”

“Seeing you so angry, you also know that submitting to another is shameful.” Qun Qing actually smiled. “On the day the palace fell, Prince Yan forced himself on the Princess and even injured her. Not every woman with some beauty is naturally meant to be sacrificed and suffer such humiliation.”

Lin Yujia’s face turned iron-blue.

His family was an aristocratic house of officials. He, Lin Yujia, was well-read in classics and poetry—at the very least a talented scholar. He didn’t know why, but the meaning conveyed in this woman’s gaze made him feel completely humiliated, irritable enough to go mad.

He took a deep breath: “The only reason you can still be so sharp-tongued here is because I smooth things over for you before our master. Otherwise you’d be in trouble now—why are you looking at me like that? How could I possibly have reported your actions to our master?”

Qun Qing froze, because at this time Crown Prince Zhao had already proclaimed himself emperor in Huai’an, establishing the Nan Chu state. The current Nan Chu and Chang’an could be said to be separated by vast mountains and rivers.

She hadn’t expected that though Crown Prince Zhao was so far away, he could be crystal clear about her minor actions.

“Could there be other spies in the palace monitoring us and reporting back to Crown Prince Zhao at any time?” She voiced her speculation.

Lin Yujia: “See how naive you are? There are two ‘Heaven’ ranks in the palace—even I don’t know who they are…” Realizing he’d said too much, Lin Yujia shut his mouth.

Qun Qing stared at him steadily and gently bloomed a smile: “I thought all the people in the palace answered to you. Apparently not.”

Lin Yujia suddenly grabbed her hand. Sensing her intention to break free, he gripped tighter: “Qingqing, don’t always try to extract information from me. You’re merely ‘Kill’ rank—do your job well and don’t ask too much about Heaven rank matters.”

Nan Chu’s spy organization was laid out and designed over several decades by a strategist called the Zen Master who served beside the Emperor of Chu before the kingdom fell.

Among the spies were four strict levels, divided into Heaven, Kill, Earth, and Absolute. The superior of each line monitored the subordinates, but subordinates didn’t know the identities of superiors on other lines. Multiple parallel lines formed a tight web.

In the first year of Sheng Lin, there were as many as a hundred Nan Chu spies working in Chang’an city—stealing military intelligence, carrying out sabotage, ensuring that even though Emperor Chenming had won the realm, he couldn’t sit securely on the throne.

The Li family was tormented to splitting headaches and sleepless nights, only able to adopt violent elimination measures—once discovered, executed without question. In her previous life, Qun Qing was among the last batch of spies to die.

Actually by that time, restoring the kingdom was already hopeless, but that Zen Master had once set a death law for the spies: if any spy was discovered betraying Nan Chu, they must be killed, otherwise one would share the same crime. This prevented spies from retreating, forcing them to kill each other.

Qun Qing didn’t fear Crown Prince Zhao, nor was Lin Yujia worth worrying about, but she dreaded and despised this unfathomably deep and brutally ruthless “Zen Master.”

Previous life and present, Qun Qing was merely “Kill” rank.

Lin Yujia had let slip that there were still two “Heaven” ranks in the palace, which meant besides Lin Yujia, there were two more pairs of eyes secretly watching her in the palace, yet she didn’t know who those two people were.

Now with the palace searching for spies, these two “Heaven” ranks also closely monitored her movements. If she showed any sign of betraying Nan Chu, they could put her life in danger at any time.

She was in trouble.

If Heaven had physical form, she’d be grabbing it by the collar demanding answers.

Why didn’t you have me reborn before entering the palace? Huh?

Qun Qing lowered her head to look at her palm lines. Her lifeline was clearly so long. She hadn’t expected that as a chess piece caught in a vortex, trying to master her own fate would be this difficult.

“Qingqing, don’t be afraid.” Seeing her silent, Lin Yujia pulled her into his embrace. “After finishing all this, after Chu is restored, I’ll marry you and we’ll live a good life. I don’t mind that your face can’t recover. I’ll never let you live in fear like this again.”

Qun Qing’s body stiffened. The sadness that had just surged up instantly ebbed. She pushed Lin Yujia away: “What exactly did you call me here to do? Hurry and give it to me—the lamps will be lit soon.”

Once the sky went completely dark and lamps were lit in Taiji Palace, all eight palace gates would close completely with palace attendants stationed at each hall entrance for guard duty. At that time, she couldn’t leave.

Lin Yujia wrote “castor oil” in her palm.

“What do you need so much castor oil for?” Lin Yujia wanted half a catty of castor oil—not one or two ounces, but a full half catty!

“Don’t ask—just bring it back and bury it under this tree.” Lin Yujia said.

“Castor oil is medicinal. The palace registers quantities of medicines. To get this, I can only buy it at the East or West Market.” Qun Qing said. “I’m a palace maid and can’t leave the palace casually—you should know that? Wouldn’t having someone else go buy it be much more convenient than me?”

Lin Yujia: “Who says I didn’t go buy some? It’s just not enough—far from enough! Besides, I’ve been very busy lately and can’t get away. You’ve always been considerate—why can’t you think of me?”

Qun Qing saw his irritable expression and couldn’t help asking: “What are you so busy with?”

“Just wait. Within a few months I’ll definitely accomplish something great.” A flash of fanaticism passed through Lin Yujia’s eyes, but when Qun Qing pressed him about what great matter, he shut his mouth. “Qingqing, if you keep making excuses, I’ll take it that you truly have developed treasonous thoughts.”

Qun Qing’s expression settled. Unable to extract more information before the lamps were lit, the two departed separately.

Qun Qing returned to Qingxuan Pavilion and soaked the hand Lin Yujia had held in a water bucket, scrubbing it vigorously clean.

In her previous life, she’d never received tasks related to castor oil. She didn’t know if her rebirth had caused a series of changes in external events.

Lin Yujia had already grown suspicious—this task couldn’t be glossed over.

But she also had to find a way to figure out exactly what Lin Yujia intended to do. It didn’t matter if he rushed to his death, but she feared being implicated.

She hadn’t forgotten how in her previous life, within half a day of falling into Lu Huating’s hands, Lin Yujia had sold her and the Princess out completely.

With two “Heaven” ranks pressing down on her head, continually avoiding assassination missions wouldn’t work—unless she left the palace quarters early… But a single tree couldn’t make a forest. Relying on herself alone, escaping smoothly would likely be very difficult.

The courtyard was empty. In the darkness, only waves of insect chirping. Qun Qing sat thinking for a while, then mimicked a bird call and pulled an empty wax pellet from her clothing, tossing it into the grass.

Before long, a skylark fluttered over and carried it away.

It was already late at night when Qun Qing returned to her quarters.

She hadn’t expected Ruo Chan to actually leave a lamp for her—orange light shone through the window.

But then she heard Ruo Chan’s crying and pleading sounds. Before she entered the door, the lamp went out.