Seeing the room full of eager, impatient faces, the cold sneer in Ziqing’s eyes only deepened. She’d merely hesitated a moment, and already this whole pack of women couldn’t hold their composure?
How utterly dull.
“I do like it. Autumn tea, light and refreshing, suits my taste perfectly. My thanks to Consort Yi for the gift of tea.”
Still meek and courteous, she raised the cup and drank, and under everyone’s tense gaze, unhurried, sip by sip, drained the entire large cup dry.
The moment she set the cup down, Consort Yi lit up with delight, asking eagerly, “How was the tea?”
“A fine tea—rich in color, aroma, and flavor, not inferior to spring tea in the least,” Ziqing answered.
“So you know something of tea yourself!” Consort Yi said, quite pleased.
Ziqing understood perfectly well that she would never have walked out of the Yiqing Palace without drinking that cup of tea. And sure enough, once the tea was down, after only a few more minutes of idle chatter, Consort Yi began yawning and, thoroughly satisfied, let her leave.
As Ziqing stepped alone out of the Yiqing Palace, Hongyi sat dozing on the stone steps—the girl certainly seemed at ease.
A flash of coldness crossed Ziqing’s eyes, though she kept up her meek act, nudging Hongyi awake. “Guard Hongyi, wake up. We’re heading back.”
Hongyi startled awake, and seeing Ziqing safe and unharmed, asked suspiciously, “Did Consort Yi give you any trouble?”
“No, Consort Yi treated me to tea, was very warm and welcoming, and even told me to visit the Second Prince Consort more often,” Ziqing said, sounding delighted.
Hongyi immediately snorted coldly to herself. That tea had surely been poisoned—this ruined woman actually believed Consort Yi thought highly of her.
Even better, if the poison killed her outright, that would settle things cleanly.
Ziqing boarded the carriage, smiling sweetly. “Guard Hongyi, the dawn air outside is chilly—come inside the carriage.”
“Mm,” Hongyi replied bluntly, climbing in and sitting beside Ziqing without further ceremony.
The carriage soon pulled away from the palace gates. But the real show was only just beginning…
The moment the curtain fell shut, Ziqing suddenly yanked open the sash of her robe.
“Han Ziqing, what are you doing? Have you no shame at all?” Hongyi was utterly stunned—this woman actually dared to undress inside a moving carriage, had she no sense of decency? What exactly was she trying to do?
Ziqing gave a coy, seductive smile, baring her smooth bare shoulders, slowly leaning in—a shameless act of enticement.
For a moment, Hongyi couldn’t process what was happening and instinctively drew back. “Han Ziqing… you… you…”
But then Ziqing suddenly shoved her outer robe into Hongyi’s hands, her expression flipping instantly, snapping sharply, “One more word out of you and I’ll cut out your tongue. Hold this!”
“What did you just say!” Hongyi jumped, startled, and was about to snap back angrily—but then she met a pair of sharp, iron-cold eyes, and whatever scolding she’d been about to deliver instantly died in her throat.
What in the world was wrong with this woman…
Ziqing’s cold gaze darkened. She raised both arms and, with a sudden burst of internal force, drove dozens of nearly invisible silver needles out from beneath the skin of both arms.
Head lowered, she carefully pulled them out one by one, her small face intent and focused, without so much as a flicker of a frown. Soon her arms were densely dotted with bleeding puncture marks, each extracted needle gleaming an ominous black at the tip!
Every one of those silver needles had been laced with deadly poison. She’d sealed the toxins the instant they entered her with her internal energy—otherwise, such a violent poison truly would have caused trouble! Consort Yi’s own poison-craft might be mediocre, but the poisons she employed were certainly first-rate!
“Hold these,” she said coldly, handing dozens of silver needles over to Hongyi.
Hongyi stood frozen from head to toe, gooseflesh crawling steadily up her scalp. Aside from sheer terror, her mind remained utterly blank.
Was the woman before her really the same Han Ziqing she’d known? How had she transformed into an entirely different person in the span of a single moment?
Ziqing pressed a point on her own neck, and immediately spat out a large mouthful of tea—the very sip she’d secretly held in her mouth without swallowing. Once she’d spat out the poisoned tea, she calmly drew the toxins out from both arms herself, then dressed once more, her movements crisp and efficient. Both arms bore injuries, yet not once did her brow so much as furrow.
That settled, she stretched lazily, then leaned back against the high cushions, arching a brow at Hongyi.
Hongyi had been staring, dumbstruck, ever since that cold, furious glare Ziqing had shot her earlier—she could hardly believe the woman before her was the same meek, docile Han Ziqing from before.
“Guard Hongyi, is there something on my face?” Ziqing asked.
“No… no…” Hongyi finally snapped out of it, stammering, unsure what to say.
“Then why does Guard Hongyi keep staring at me so intently? I would have thought a servant at Prince Yao’s side would share his temperament—unwilling to so much as glance at something others have already touched!” Ziqing said flatly.
Hongyi immediately dropped to her knees with a thud, her heart pounding so hard she could barely breathe. This woman’s meek, submissive act had been entirely fabricated—she was no mere vase to be admired, but a rose hiding thorns. Had jealousy driven her mad, that she’d been so blind, so contemptuous?
“Han Miss” instantly became “Princess Consort” on her tongue, her spineless pleading only deepening Ziqing’s disgust further. She said coldly, “It was you who delivered me to the Yiqing Palace. All this poison in my body is thanks to you. If Prince Yao ever finds out, do you think he’d remember your years of loyal service on your behalf?”
“This servant knows her fault. If the Princess Consort will spare me, this servant will surely reform completely—this servant will obey the Princess Consort in all things!” Hongyi hastily pleaded.
“Have you served the Prince personally, at his side, for years now?” Ziqing asked.
“No, no—that was a lie this servant told. This servant has only ever served within the household, an ordinary maid of the Prince’s residence,” Hongyi hurriedly explained. That earlier boast had merely been bluster—Prince Yao had always operated alone, keeping no one at his side except a few Shadow Guards, never bringing servants along at all!
Ziqing had already suspected as much—someone that man had personally trained would never have performed this poorly.
Seeing Ziqing say nothing further, Hongyi hurriedly grabbed the hem of her skirt, pleading tearfully, “Princess Consort, please just spare this servant. This servant swears she would rather die than reveal your secret—this servant… this servant will absolutely help conceal it from the Prince!”
However lacking she might be, she was still someone from Prince Yao’s own household—not entirely without wits, and clearly capable of guessing Ziqing’s plan to play the meek act.
Within Prince Yao’s residence, Ziqing still had real need of someone like Hongyi.
“I’ll spare you—on the condition you help me investigate something,” Ziqing said flatly.
Hearing this, Hongyi’s heart, which had been hanging in midair, finally settled. She quickly said, “Princess Consort, please just give the order!”
“Around the twenty-seventh of last month, find out who from within the palace went looking for Young Master Chen,” Ziqing said in a low voice. Whatever she herself couldn’t uncover would be far easier to investigate with the influence and connections of Prince Yao’s household behind her.
All this humiliation, all of it thanks to that bastard’s doing. Wherever he might be hiding, to the ends of the earth, she would absolutely track him down!
Hongyi found the request puzzling but didn’t dare ask further, quickly agreeing, “Rest assured, Princess Consort, this servant will do everything possible to find out!”
By the time they returned to Prince Yao’s residence, the sky was already fully bright, yet Jun Beiyue had still not returned.
“Still in the palace?” Ziqing asked, brow furrowed.
“Yes. No word has come from the Imperial Study,” Hongyi answered honestly.
Ziqing found this curious—it seemed all too convenient. The Emperor had summoned Jun Beiyue away, and Consort Yi had made her move immediately afterward. If Consort Yi had merely feared Jun Beiyue joining forces with the Prime Minister’s household to threaten the Second Prince’s standing at court, she wouldn’t have acted with such urgency. Could it be she’d acted on the Emperor’s own instructions?
Huajin’s poison was set to erupt within seven days without fail. Just who exactly was so desperate to see her dead—she would find out soon enough!