At fifteen, Qingyun was young and reckless, capable of many feats others could not achieve. Not to mention his unparalleled literary and military prowess, his extraordinarily handsome appearance alone made many noble ladies secretly yearn for him. However, despite the streets of Huairou being filled with princes and nobles, no family was willing to actively seek a marriage alliance. The reason was simple: regardless of which family’s daughter might marry into the Bingci Palace and become queen, she would likely be widowed within a few years. The mother of the King of Jingtianjust the latest example.
The young King of Jingtian had only been in power for a year and could not eliminate the evil factions. He decided to choose one woman from each of the two parties as his queen to keep them in check. Thus, two young women his age entered the palace to accompany him day and night.
Humans! No matter the circumstances of one’s birth, when still just a half-grown child, one cannot be so cold as to resist loneliness. As time passed and they lived together, sharing the same bed, the young king gradually began to favor Queen Liaoye of the Nangong Clan, who came from a military family. The reason was simple: Shuilan was too fond of speaking in riddles, with every word carrying hidden meanings—she was a woman skilled in scheming. Liaoye, on the other hand, was open and generous, often engaging with him in martial arts. She gave him a much simpler impression. This was Qingyun’s standard for choosing women at that time, unrelated to love. After all, neither of these women were those he had willingly enthroned, but at least he still had the right to choose which one to favor. Naturally, Liaoye became pregnant with the royal heir before Shuilan.
Three people, whose ages combined did not exceed forty years—one facing dangers and assassination attempts from all sides, while the other two, supported by their respective factions, were at odds within the palace. Within four months, the pregnant Liaoye was poisoned, and her unborn child died. The perpetrator turned out to be Shuilan. In the Bingci Palace, this was an old, tired play, and the real actors were those nobles and ministers who manipulated power to maintain their positions.
To appease the anger of the military faction, the King of Jingtian deposed the Northern Palace Queen and took the opportunity to strip the prime minister of his power, joining forces with Grand General Liao Zhen to centralize authority. At fifteen, he showed no pity for the two teenage beauties who had once shared his pillow. Although they were both pawns in a larger game…
As Miaojing recounted this part of the story, Huang Beishuang, sitting in the pavilion, looked up at the sky and sighed sadly. Miaojing paused and asked, “Your Majesty?”
Huang Beishuang’s gaze was distant, almost resembling the now-demented Shuilan. “Why is His Majesty so kind to a woman who committed such a grave error?”
Miaojing stood dumbfounded, unable to answer for a long time.
Huang Beishuang smiled bitterly, “In the face of power struggles, no one is righteous! His Majesty knew that Shuilan was manipulated by the ministerial faction to harm Liaoye, yet he pretended not to know! When he finally seized the opportunity to deal with this group of treacherous officials, Shuilan… became even more isolated and helpless. She must have loved His Majesty, loving such an outstanding person, marrying him, yet not knowing that in his eyes, all he saw was her father, who formed factions to disrupt the court.”
Hearing this, Miaojing was shocked and quickly knelt. “Your Majesty, you and His Majesty are the same kind of person. In the face of power struggles, you both have your hearts—neither purely good nor evil!”
Huang Beishuang leaned down to look at the kneeling Miaojing. “Now that she’s ill with longing, wasting her youth in this confused state, does His Majesty finally feel pity for her? Because, after all, they once had marital relations?”
Miaojing looked up to find Huang Beishuang’s face close by, her bewitching expression as cold as winter snow. Her orange-red lips bore a mysterious, mocking smile, seeming both scornful and understanding. Miaojing stared in shock, suddenly realizing his impropriety, and quickly lowered his head again. “Your Majesty, His Majesty intentionally had me bring you here. He wanted you to know these things!”
Huang Beishuang smiled, stood up, and adjusted the fur coat wrapped around her body. She said to Miaojing, “I understand. That’s enough for now! Let’s go back!”
Miaojing then stood up and followed closely behind Huang Beishuang as they walked back. As they walked, he silently marveled—this woman was indeed very similar to His Majesty. Despite the complex layout of Bingci Palace with its intertwining main roads and small paths, she had only been led through once, yet could now navigate without the slightest error on the return journey.
Huang Beishuang walked ahead for quite some time, unaware that Miaojing was lost in thought behind her, remaining silent the entire way, his mind filled with countless thoughts. It wasn’t until they were almost back at Qingyun’s chambers that she suddenly turned to Miaojing with a smile and said, “Do you know why neither Shuilan nor Liaoye had a good outcome? Because they both lost their direction, forced to choose between His Majesty and their factions! Choosing both, or choosing neither, that’s what’s fatal! Thank you for telling me these things today. From now on, no matter which one I choose, I won’t regret it.”
Hearing this, Miaojing stood dumbfounded at the doorway, watching her turn and enter the palace. For a long time, he couldn’t find any words to say.
What one chooses and what one loses have always been equal. If you feel it’s unequal, it’s because you’re greedy.
In a person’s life, there must be at least one thing they persist in from beginning to end. Only then will they be convincing and admirable. What Huo Qingyun persisted in was the dignity of being a king. And what did she persist in? The seven thousand Enati people who had taken root in Yunpei? Or the heavenly mechanism of Prince Zhan’s one word of war? Or this love, as violent and swift as a storm? No matter how difficult the choice, she would certainly not avoid it!
Pushing open the door, she found Qingyun already up, sitting by the table reading. Seeing her return, he merely smiled faintly. Huang Beishuang stood at the door for a long time, gazing at him deeply.
“Standing so far away! Can you see clearly?” Qingyun put down his book, looking back at her expressionlessly. “Or have you started to fear seeing clearly!” His tone was cold and tense.
Huang Beishuang stood at the door, took off her fur coat, and walked step by step to Qingyun, equally expressionless. “What about you? Have you seen me?”
Qingyun looked up at her. Her brow still carried a distant coldness, her clear gray eyes held a hint of arrogance. She always managed to captivate him, yet remained impenetrable. Thinking this, Qingyun stood up, their proximity making her appear quite petite.
“I don’t know! Perhaps as you said, our memories together are pitifully few!” Qingyun reached out to touch her jade-like face. It was indeed very brief; the times they had been together could be counted on ten fingers.
“I’m surprised at how much I care for you. I’ve only fought half a war—am I an incompetent ruler?” He reached out and lifted her, raising her feet off the ground.
“Who dares say you’re incompetent…” Huang Beishuang laughed softly, “Whether in politics or war, who has ever gained an advantage over you? Saying such things doesn’t sound like you!”
Qingyun laughed heartily, his hands around her waist tightening slightly, causing her to gasp. In an instant, his forehead was pressed against hers. “I will understand you, everything about you…” he said.
Hearing these words, Huang Beishuang felt a pang in her heart. She was an easy person to understand, but she feared that once he truly understood her, he would be angry—angry for a very long time, so angry that he would never think of her again.
After a moment’s thought, she closed her eyes and replied, “I have something I want to give you, just for you!”
“What is it?” Qingyun smiled, “Another ice jade ring?”
Huang Beishuang chuckled, her voice extremely alluring, “I want to give you a lotus flower!”
Qingyun was taken aback, “A lotus flower?”
Suddenly, Huang Beishuang smiled seductively, like a white lotus blooming in summer. She looked at the still perplexed Qingyun and slowly leaned in, extending her fiery red tongue to lick and kiss his eyes, preventing him from opening them for a long time. After being teased like this for a while, Qingyun finally couldn’t resist grabbing her with both hands, intending to reprimand her, “You’re still injured…” But before he could finish speaking, what appeared before him was Huang Beishuang, who had shed her clothes, leaving only a single undergarment. Although there were still two deep wounds on her chest, it did nothing to diminish the allure radiating from her entire body—snow-white skin, prominent collarbones, the faintly visible perfect curves, and… on her right arm, a quietly blooming three-petaled lotus flower.
As if bewitched, Qingyun stared at that lotus flower, his hand unconsciously reaching out to caress it gently. The moment he touched her, she trembled slightly, already unable to resist. He led her to the bed, his large hand lowering the thick dark green bed curtains, suddenly concealing a room full of spring passion.
“Are you sure?” he asked, hovering over her, holding his breath.
“Unless you don’t want to!” Huang Beishuang smiled, reaching out to embrace him tightly.