The black drapes in the palace were taken down and replaced with white cotton gauze. In a single night, the Emperor had passed away, and the Empress Dowager had died. For seven times seven, forty-nine days, the funeral bells rang through the palace, and the entire nation mourned.

On the day Li Ce was buried in the imperial tomb, Chu Qiao moved out of Jinwu Palace. Autumn leaves fell silently, creating a scene of desolation. She wore a soft white cotton dress as she stood on the high city tower of Xilan Gate, watching the long funeral procession gradually disappear at the end of the post road.

The setting sun casts a golden glow on the ground. The wild fields outside the Tang capital were covered with tall wormwood grass, swaying back and forth in the desolate autumn wind like waves of gold. Dusk fell, birds flew south, and the horizon was ablaze with fiery clouds. Her shadow stretched long and thin, reflected on the Tang capital city tower that had weathered a hundred years of wind and rain.

Li Ce, forgive me for not being able to send you off. The road ahead is long; take care of yourself.

The sun gradually sank behind the mountains, and a distant moon climbed to the mountain peak. Cold moonlight spilled onto her clothes, creating a misty haze. Bits of frost climbed up her pale cheeks like frost-cover snow. The autumn night air entered her nostrils like sharp blades. A twinge of sorrow rose from the bottom of her heart, crawling up her back. Her heart felt as if a vast white snow had fallen, endlessly cold and bewildered.

Meixiang walked forward and said softly, “Miss, let’s go.”

She took one last look at the dusty post road, then finally turned around inch by inch. The dark shadows of the city tower were menacing, like a crouching fierce tiger or wild beast, opening its man-eating jaws, about to snatch away her remaining freedom.

Dust lightly flew up beneath her feet. In the sky, large birds spread their black wings. She walked down step by step as if entering a deep muddy cave. Behind her was a desolate wilderness, and further away were the towering mountains of Bian Tang, the bustling markets, and then the continuous border fortresses. Beyond that was the land of Great Xia.

Mountains and rivers stretched for thousands of miles, the splendor of home and country. She ultimately could not escape the worldly entanglements, drifting with the current like a mayfly.

A carriage stood quietly at the foot of the city wall. Sun Di wore a blue robe, handsome and otherworldly, standing respectfully to one side. Seeing her approach, he said quietly, “Please get in the carriage, Miss.”

“I want to walk alone.”

Chu Qiao spoke quietly, her expression calm, showing no signs of dejection.

As Meixiang was about to speak, Sun Di handed her a lantern and said in a deep voice, “The night road is difficult to travel. The Miss should return early.”

The high-quality white palace paper wrapped around the lantern emitted a stark white light. Chu Qiao nodded slightly, took the lantern, and turned to leave. Meixiang anxiously wanted to follow but was pulled back by Sun Di. The young man shook his head slightly. A crescent moon in the sky shone silently on the departing woman as if she were shrouded in a layer of mist, about to dissolve into the night.

Today was Li Ce’s funeral, and there was not a single person on the road. Only the begonia trees on both sides swayed in the wind, occasionally scattering a few pale petals.

“Qiao Qiao, Qiao Qiao…”

Faintly, she seemed to hear a series of calls again. The man raised his eyebrows, his eyes like those of a cunning fox, smiling at her.

The water mirror was like an illusion, the light rippling. Clouds and mist shrouded the man’s eyes and brows, gradually becoming pale and quiet. Finally, he leaned back in the rattan chair and smiled weakly at her, opening his arms gently and calling:

“Qiao Qiao, let me hug you.”

A tear welled up from the woman’s eyes. She did not wipe it away but simply continued walking quietly. The lantern emitted a stark white light, like the moon in the sky.

More than ten years of life and death, warmth and coldness, half a lifetime of hardships and wandering. She had stumbled along like duckweed in the rain and finally reached today’s dead end. Once she had been troubled by love, burdened by many attachments, passive and helpless, stubborn, fragile, and melancholy. But now, that weak and ineffectual woman had finally died along with this intricate fate.

Tears fell into the lantern. A gust of wind blew, and the candle flame went out with a puff, leaving only wisps of smoke curling upward.

She took a deep breath, threw the lantern to the ground, and straightened her back as she walked forward.

She swore that this would be the last tear of her life. From now on, even if she shed her last drop of blood, she would never again weep in helplessness.

The light ahead suddenly brightened. Looking from afar, a magnificent mansion stood among the colorful flowers and green willows, brilliantly lit, a picture of splendor.

Sun Di stood at the door in his light robe, holding a palace lantern, quietly waiting for her return.

“Has the Miss made up her mind?” he asked.

Chu Qiao looked at him. Moonlight poured down like silver, making the ground silver-white. She nodded silently and said in a deep voice, “Nevermore certain.”

Sun Di smiled, handed her the lantern, and said with a smile, “The night road is difficult to travel. This lantern will light the way for the Miss.”

“A candle flame can be extinguished by the wind, but the heart cannot.”

Chu Qiao walked past him directly into the magnificent mansion and said in a deep voice, “From now on, my eyes will be my lantern, and my heart will be the candle flame inside.”

As soon as she stepped through the vermilion gate, the light that came to greet her was so intense that it almost burned her eyes for an instant. A white marble path connected the main gate to the front hall, with clear mirror-like pools carved on both sides. There were several buildings, intricately carved and painted, with fragrant walls, brocade curtains, warm jade floors, and gold-inlaid railings. The thick fragrance was like a March breeze, hitting her face and almost intoxicating her.

Qiusui stepped forward and respectfully said in a deep voice, “After the Miss left all those years ago, His Majesty began repairing this mansion. It took more than two years, and now it is finally completed.”

More than two hundred servants knelt on the ground, and when they saw Chu Qiao approaching, they all kowtowed together, loudly greeting her.

Chu Qiao walked in, only to see that the hall had sandalwood ceilings, crystal lamps, jade walls with agarwood, and gauze curtains like the sea. Huge night pearls were embedded in the lampstands, glowing, like bright moons. The pillars were carved with colorful phoenixes, adorned with gold powder, shimmering in the candlelight.

On the gilt openwork red paper, there were several slender jade magnolia flowers. As the fragrance wafted over, it seemed like that night many years ago when he had childishly snatched a maid’s headdress and placed it, along with a magnolia, in her thick hair.

“To you, of the Chu clan, born into a prestigious family, blessed with virtues through generations, knowledgeable and principled, respectful and humble. Upholding virtue with temperance and deference, knowing the past and present with a disposition that rejoices in goodness, this decree especially bestows upon your honor and rank, with eternal blessings to follow.”

Below was Li Ce’s imperial seal, but the title after the honor was not filled in.

Sun Di stepped forward and said in a deep voice, “At that time, His Majesty had not yet decided on a title for the Princess, and consulted with his advisors for a long time. The Court of Imperial Rites also drafted several titles, but His Majesty was not satisfied with any of them, so it was left blank. He had planned to discuss it further in the future, but unexpectedly, the opportunity never came.”

Chu Qiao stood silently. The lamplight was enchanting, gently falling on her pale cheeks. Her lips were a deep red, and her fingers tightly gripped the imperial decree, holding it so firmly that her knuckles turned white.

Inside was a scene of resplendent gold and jade, with all kinds of rare treasures. Those were the dowry he had prepared for her, which had been placed here for many years.

Her eyes felt hot, and she couldn’t help but frown tightly. Her voice was as deep as a secluded lake as she said quietly, “Since the decree has not been issued, there is no need to mention the title of Princess anymore.”

Sun Di nodded, “The Miss is right. It’s getting late, the Miss should rest first. I’ll take my leave.”

With that, he turned and left.

The vermilion gate slowly closed, the heavy sound like a muffled thunder, rolling darkly across the ground.

Meixiang walked over with a letter, her brow slightly furrowed, and said softly, “Miss, Young Master Zhuge has sent another letter.”

Chu Qiao’s expression flickered slightly. She took the letter and held it in her hand, but did not open it. Sweat from her palm seeped into the letter paper, making it slightly damp.

Meixiang frowned and said, “Miss, this is already the ninth letter. If you don’t reply, Young Master Zhuge will be worried.”

Chu Qiao sat silently, not saying a word, her eyes fixed on the candle flame by the window, lost in thought for a long time.

Yan Bei and Great Xia were at war again. They had already fought four battles at Yanming Pass, and the battlefront had expanded to the southern end of the Batuha territory. Zhao Yang had joined forces with the Mu clan of Lingnan and Prince Jing Hang, taking full control of the southwestern army. They were in a standoff with Zhuge Yue and Zhao Che’s northern forces at Phoenix Terrace, surrounded by danger and on the brink of explosion.

The Emperor had been ill for a long time and had not attended morning court for a year. Wei Guang claimed to be sick and was not managing state affairs either. No one knew what this old fox was planning. The situation in Great Xia had become like a pot of water about to boil; just one piece of fuel thrown in would make it boil over immediately. At this moment, no one could afford the slightest carelessness or rash action.

She understood this, and how could he not understand it too?

Meixiang couldn’t help but ask, “Miss, what exactly are we doing now?”

Chu Qiao’s gaze slowly turned to her, her eyes frosty and cold. In a deep voice, she slowly said, “Waiting.”

The new Emperor’s enthronement was held the next day.

In the great hall of the Imperial Academy, a young child sat on the enormous golden dragon throne. Behind the throne hung a curtain, with two women dressed in splendid deep robes sitting behind it. They were the Crown Prince’s mother, Empress Dowager Yuan, and Imperial Consort Zhan.

In the spacious hall, Zhan Ziyu, with the honorable position of Imperial Tutor and Regent, sat quietly below the throne. He wore a jet-black court robe embroidered with six twisting dragons. With his towering crown, he wore a faint, calm smile on his lips, like cold moonlight reflecting on water, undisturbed.

Li Ce’s imperial harem had been without an Empress for many years, and he had no siblings. Now with his sudden death, and the Empress Dowager also gone, the court officials could only follow Li Ce’s last decree and honor the Crown Prince, Li Xiuyi, as Emperor. However, the Crown Prince’s mother, Lady Yuan, was originally a laundry maid of the lowest rank in the palace and was not qualified to rule behind a curtain. Thus, the highest-ranking concubine in the harem, Imperial Noble Consort Ming, naturally became the Emperor’s adoptive mother and assisted in governing.

The Emperor was only six years old. With the Empress Dowager and Imperial Consort ruling behind the curtain, imperial power naturally fell to others. However, Lady Yuan had been seized and entered the palace as a young girl, and as a palace servant, she had no relatives or family. Thus, the power of the Bian Tang dynasty suddenly fell into the hands of the Zhan siblings, who had once been expelled from Bian Tang.

The changes in the court were like undercurrents flowing beneath an icy lake, with no visible edge, but surging like the tide, capable of killing invisibly in an instant.

Former favorites of the court, led by Sun Di, were all suppressed and labeled as partisans of Prince Luo, and sent to the Court of Investigation for interrogation. All the palace servants who had attended Li Ce on the day of his death were beheaded. All the ladies, dancers, and lower-ranking concubines were driven out of the palace and sent to Anhua Temple on Fo Mountain to become nuns.

The new Emperor’s policies were swift and decisive, sweeping across the entire Bian Tang court like autumn wind clearing away fallen leaves. A cold sword hung over the entire Great Tang, and any voice of discontent would be mercilessly eliminated.

Under such high political pressure, the previously hesitant old ministers also changed sides, gathering at the gate of Regent Zhan Ziyu’s mansion after morning court each day, behaving like a pack of scavenging dogs.

However, what surprised Chu Qiao was that under such circumstances, the first person to stand up and oppose was Elder Liu, who had repeatedly opposed Li Ce in the past.

On the first day of the ninth month, at the gate of Jinwu Palace, Elder Liu, in front of Zhan Ziyu’s carriage, angrily denounced the Zhan siblings as treacherous rebels disturbing the court. He also said that the incident of the late Emperor being stabbed in Roufu Hall was suspicious and likely the work of the Zhan siblings. He accused Zhan Ziyu and Zhan Ziming of attempting to assassinate the late Emperor, crimes worthy of execution. Afterward, he threw himself onto the blade of Zhan Ziyu’s guard, shouting Li Ce’s royal title before his death, his blood splashing three feet, dying on the spot.

Zhan Ziyu was sitting in the carriage at the time and did not appear or make a sound from beginning to end. Only after Elder Liu’s body was carried away did he leisurely get out of the carriage and toss down a banknote worth three hundred taels of gold for Liu’s family members who came to collect the body, telling them to bury their elder.

Chu Qiao was eating when she heard this news. Duoji carefully told her about it, and her hand paused slightly, spilling half a cup of lotus seed soup. She sat in silent contemplation for a long time.

That night, the lamp in Chu Qiao’s window remained lit for a long time. Duoji sat on the stone slab in the courtyard, a sheepskin flask hanging at his waist, sitting motionless all night.

After the incident with Elder Liu spread throughout the Great Tang, it triggered a significant wave of unrest. Students from various regions gathered in the Tang capital. The impassioned students wrote tens of thousands of essays, which were transmitted to the court through those with connections, demanding that the Court of Investigation, the Three Departments, and the Military Department severely punish the murderers and restore clarity to the Tang court.

However, two days later, Zhan Ziyu sent out the central army to harshly suppress the students. Suddenly, the dungeons of the Court of Investigation were filled with passionate voices. The judge of the Court of Investigation went to ask Zhan Ziyu with a worried expression. The young Regent, with his high crown, casually remarked, “Isn’t there still space at Huangquan Slope in the suburbs?”

The white-haired judge of three dynasties immediately felt a chill all over his body. Huangquan Slope in the suburbs was a mass grave site. The Regent’s meaning was clear without further explanation.

That afternoon, a fire broke out in the prisons of the Court of Investigation, burning more than half of the cells. Most of the prisoners inside were killed or injured. One young corpse after another was carelessly thrown onto Huangquan Slope, without even a coffin, exposed to the open sky, becoming midnight snacks for wolves and tigers. The Court of Investigation merely handed over two prison guards who had been drinking on duty, and the matter was brushed aside.

The twenty-seventh day of the ninth month. Strong winds. Deep autumn.

Today’s morning court was somewhat different from usual, completely presided over by Regent Zhan Ziyu, with only Zhan Ziming behind the curtain. The imperial physician said the Emperor had caught a cold and could not attend court today. The Empress Dowager was also taking care of the Emperor, so today’s court was entirely hosted by the Imperial Consort.

Before the court officials could react, palace servants brought out a resplendent throne from behind the hall, carved with nine yellow dragons with tails. At first glance, it looked almost identical to the dragon throne.

The eunuch who delivered the decree came forward, praised Zhan Ziyu’s virtues and merits, and then took out the Emperor’s edict, saying that this throne was personally commissioned by the Emperor. Taking pity on Zhan Ziyu’s illness, the Emperor decreed that he could sit on this throne during court sessions from now on. Furthermore, the Lingxiao Hall in Jinwu Palace was gifted to the Regent, sparing him the trouble of daily travel.

Zhan Ziyu declined a few times but finally sat down under the persuasion of everyone. The court officials prostrated themselves below, looking up to see that the Regent’s position was almost on par with the imperial throne, dazzlingly golden and blinding to the extreme.

That night, after putting down the message scroll, Chu Qiao exhaled deeply and said to Tie You, “Go back to the palace and watch over the Emperor. It’s getting close.”

Three days later in the evening, a huge uproar suddenly came from within Jinwu Palace. Everyone, whether awake or asleep, was startled. Officials and commoners alike rushed out of their doors, standing in their courtyards, looking up toward the source of the sound. They saw that the direction of Jinwu Palace was ablaze with lights, shrouded in red as if a great fire had broken out somewhere. The sounds of killing continued unabated, piercing the ears as if ghosts were wailing.

In a single night, everyone was shocked pale with fear. Timid men hugged their wives and children and hurriedly ran into their houses, tightly shutting doors and windows, afraid of being implicated in the disaster. Only some high officials of the court looked at the palace gates in shock, muttering, “It seems the heavens are changing again.”

At the third watch, the palace gates were breached. Lu Yunxi, his robe covered in fresh blood, rushed out sword in hand, followed by three thousand fierce wolf soldiers. He said to Chu Qiao, who was standing in front of Tai’an Gate, in a deep voice, “Miss, we have taken Lingxiao Hall.”

Under the pitch-black sky, Chu Qiao wore a black robe embroidered with a golden-blue phoenix. Her face was like white jade, beautiful and sharp. Behind her were ten thousand Elegance Army warriors. He Xiao, with a calm expression, sat on his war horse, closely guarding her side. A white flag with red clouds waved above everyone’s heads. The night was dark, the wind was high, and dark clouds gathered, with no stars or moon. The blood-red torches cast light on Chu Qiao’s face, like a cold sword, showing no expression at all.

“Enter the palace.”

The cold voice rang out sharply, like a knife sliding across the ground glass, piercing everyone’s eardrums.

A strong wind blew, lifting the fluttering hem of Chu Qiao’s clothes. She raised her pointed, slender chin, her eyes slightly narrowed. With a light kick to her horse’s belly, she rode into that magnificent, towering imperial palace.

By the time the last guard of Lingxiao Hall fell, the fire in the west hall had already been extinguished. Du Ping’an led a group of soldiers forward. The young boy’s eyes shone with resilient light as if he had grown up overnight.

Tens of thousands of guards stood behind Chu Qiao. Bright torches illuminated half the sky, casting light on the battlefield strewn with corpses.

Chu Qiao rode up the white jade steps. The Regent’s palace nameplate, which palace servants usually wouldn’t dare to look at directly, had been thrown to the ground. Horse hooves trampled over it, making sounds of shattering.

A court eunuch skilled at reading the situation hurriedly ran forward, knelt on the ground, and loudly welcomed the General to dismount. Chu Qiao cast a cold glance at him, then surprisingly used his back as a step to dismount, walking step by step toward the majestic palace gate.

The palace gate opened wide. A cold wind carrying the scent of sandalwood came forth, blowing up Chu Qiao’s black cloak. The sword at her waist was like ice, its chill piercing the deepest part of the heart. In the empty, cold hall, Zhan Ziyu sat alone. It seemed like the scene from many years ago by the river, when a man in blue clothes sat alone in a wooden wheelchair, facing the flowing river, shrouded in clear moonlight, his eyes as cold as mountain springs, his voice rich as he quietly asked, “Who’s there?”

The wind entered through the carved windows, blowing down a piece of imperial yellow paper with faint dragon patterns—the material used for drafting imperial edicts.

Chu Qiao entered the hall, stepping over that imperial edict, her gaze indifferent as she looked at the shadow in the deep curtains, and said quietly, “I’ve come to take your life.”

Zhan Ziyu smiled slightly and said with calm detachment, “I didn’t expect it would be you.”

“Even the wisest have their oversights. From your fallen position, to climb to such heights in five years was already remarkable.”

Chu Qiao spoke calmly, her expression peaceful, showing no ripples of emotion.

Zhan Ziyu smiled and said, “Are you comforting me with those words? Well, to be praised by the world-renowned General Xiuli is indeed no small matter.”

Chu Qiao said indifferently, “Do you have any unfulfilled wishes?”

A trace of melancholy suddenly crossed Zhan Ziyu’s face. He frowned slightly, then as if very reluctantly said, “Not being able to ride in an eight-horse carriage—that remains a regret.”

Chu Qiao’s mind briefly faltered at these words. She couldn’t help but recall the joke she had once made with Zhan Ziyu. Back then, while chatting, Zhan Ziyu mentioned that he could never ride a horse again. To console him, Chu Qiao jokingly said she could raise eight magnificent horses to pull his carriage. At that time, Zhan Ziyu had smiled slightly and said she was confused—only the Emperor could ride in an eight-horse carriage. If he were to do so, wouldn’t that be rebellion?

Time flows like water. In the blink of an eye, everything had become like flowers in a mirror or the moon in water, never to return to how it was before.

“General Chu, why can the Li family sit on this throne, but I cannot? Wasn’t this empire seized by the Li family from the previous dynasty? Why are they the legitimate rulers of the world, while I am a treacherous rebel?”

Zhan Ziyu’s features showed traces of ambition. He tilted his head back slightly, looking at the high ceiling, speaking with the air of a hero: “Besides, the Li family owes me. What’s wrong with taking back what’s mine?”

Chu Qiao remained unmoved and said calmly, “That’s a grievance between you and them. It has nothing to do with me.”

She slowly stepped forward, her footsteps echoing throughout the hall like water dripping from a clepsydra.

“You killed someone I cherished, so I will kill you for revenge.”

The sharp sword was drawn inch by inch from its scabbard. The cold light flickered with the chill of the moon, like a dazzling spark, coldly shining on her face, drawing a bright line of light and shadow.

“Do you have anything else to say?”

“Spare my sister. She is just a woman. Everything she did was for me.”

Chu Qiao looked at him, silent for a long time. A sense of bitterness slowly rose from the bottom of her heart. The wind from outside blew from far away, moving their clothes like a pool of dark ink.

“I’m sorry, I cannot do that.”

She coldly uttered these few words, then suddenly swung the sword. Faintly, she recalled that night many years ago when Zhan Ziyu had smiled at her and said, “What you say makes sense, but when one is in the midst of a situation, one often cannot see clearly. When an opportunity arises, one can’t help but want to try.”

To try…

A spray of blood suddenly shot out, splashing onto Chu Qiao’s dark ink-colored clothes, quickly seeping in and forming a dark shadow.

Chu Qiao bent down to pick up the head on the ground. The man’s black hair was immaculately combed, his face white as jade, his features gentle, as if he were merely asleep, except for the bloody, grisly wound at his severed neck.

With a “plop,” Chu Qiao threw the head into the arms of a guard and said in a deep voice, “Hang the head on the palace gate for the Central Army to see.”

With that, she walked out of Lingxiao Hall, nimbly mounted her horse, and said to those around her, “Go to Roufu Hall.”

The moon had somehow emerged from the clouds, casting a bleak, clear light. Lingxiao Hall gradually grew quiet. Armored soldiers hurriedly departed, leaving only corpses of resistance. Crows cawed in the sky, their black wings like the banners of death. In the empty hall, the headless corpse still sat quietly on the golden dragon throne, looking eerie and terrifying.

The battle at Roufu Hall had already ended. Tie You and Sun Di came together, both with bloodstains, indicating how fierce the battle had been.

Chu Qiao jumped down from her horse and said to Sun Di, “I’ve troubled you.”

Sun Di laughed freely and said, “It’s nothing. Only the prison food was too poor; I’ve lost a lot of weight from hunger.”

“Miss, Imperial Consort Zhan has been captured,” Tie You said in a deep voice.

Chu Qiao raised her eyebrows slightly: “Is the Emperor well?”

Tie You frowned slightly: “He’s fine, just a bit frightened.”

“That’s good.” Chu Qiao breathed a sigh of relief and asked, “Then why do you look so worried?”

“Empress Dowager Yuan is dead. When we rushed in, she thought we were Imperial Consort Zhan’s people. Before we could speak, she killed herself by striking her head against a wall.”

Hearing this, Chu Qiao immediately frowned tightly. She hadn’t expected Yuan to be so cowardly. Despite all her careful planning to create an escape route for mother and son, Yuan died without a word.

“Miss,” Sun Di stepped forward and said in a deep voice, “We have gathered evidence of the Zhan siblings’ crimes: assassinating the late Emperor, forming factions for personal gain, plotting against the Emperor, and intending to enthrone Prince Rong. It can be announced to the world tomorrow, proclaiming their crimes.”

Chu Qiao slowly took the papers. Though just a few sheets, they felt heavier than a thousand catties.

“Let me out! You slaves! Let me out!”

A heart-rending scream suddenly came. The once-magnificent Roufu Hall was now in ruins, burned by fire, with rubble and dust everywhere. Zhan Ziming, wearing a bright red phoenix robe, was struggling fiercely with two palace women, desperately trying to escape from the bedchamber. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face devoid of the dignified beauty it once had.

Seeing Chu Qiao and Sun Di, she suddenly paused, her eyes staring fixedly at Chu Qiao. Suddenly, as if recognizing her, she laughed wildly and crazily said, “So it’s you!”

Chu Qiao didn’t speak, only silently looking at her. Many years had passed, and unexpectedly they met again in this place. The woman who had once eagerly followed her brother was gone; now standing before her was merely a madwoman.

“Where is my third brother?” she suddenly asked fiercely.

Chu Qiao, her expression unchanged, slowly said, “Dead.”

Zhan Ziming suddenly froze, as if she had long anticipated this day. After a long while, she suddenly smiled bitterly, her voice shrill like a night hawk in the sky. Her gaze turned ashen, filled with death as she looked at Chu Qiao and asked in a deep voice, “You killed him?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. The person he favored is indeed exceptional. No wonder among three thousand beauties in the palace, he was only sincere to you alone.”

Chu Qiao looked coldly at this beautiful and crazed woman, her gaze weathered and pitying, as if seeing through her beautiful exterior to the depths of her heart.

“What do you plan to do with Rong’er?”

“He is not only your child but also Li Ce’s child. I will treat him well.”

Zhan Ziming nodded dejectedly and smiled bitterly, “Good. My hands are stained with blood. I’ve even harmed him. If not for my third brother, I would have no desire to live. Go ahead.”

At that moment, Chu Qiao suddenly saw through her plaintive smile to her heart full of wounds. Her childhood admiration for her brother had made her unhesitatingly follow all of Zhan Ziyu’s arrangements. However, after entering the palace, she had involuntarily come to love Li Ce. This love, perhaps even she hadn’t realized until after she had carried out the plan to assassinate him, which made her understand her own heart. That day outside Yixin Hall, her grief was not feigned. Unfortunately, of the two men she loved in her life, one never loved her, and one couldn’t love her. She had ultimately become a joke of fate.

“Bestow poison wine and white silk upon Imperial Consort Zhan.”

Chu Qiao turned resolutely and strode out of the hall. Outside, the wind blew strongly. The black night enveloped her like a thick tide. The main gate of Jinwu Palace was ablaze with light, but the sounds of killing gradually diminished. A sharp signal to cease battle cut through the cold night sky. The smell of lingering dust, of countless killings, of numerous souls departing, suddenly came like a storm from all directions, surrounding her.

She held a silver sword, her dark robe stained with blood. Behind her were vast, piercing flames. Warriors in black armor stood to her left and right. Her gaze was so cold, firmly fixed on the edge of heaven and earth. There, in the distant north, rolling with cold stillness, her gaze never wavered, as if looking at someone, yet ultimately submerged in a sea of nothingness, leaving no trace.

“Imperial Consort Zhan has died—”

The eunuch dragged out a long, melodious funeral call.

The sun at that moment broke through the dark clouds. Dawn was approaching. This long night would finally pass, but what would it take to dispel the darkness in the heart?

Fate was like a desolate fire that burned her to pieces. Those beautiful wishes, and expectations for the future, would ultimately go up in flames with this great fire. Henceforth, she would strip away all weakness, sorrow, mercy, kindness, and that longing for beautiful things, to truly become strong and protect everything she cherished.

Anyone who dared to encroach even an inch would pay a painful price.

“Auntie!”

A childish voice suddenly came. The child’s small figure immediately rushed into Chu Qiao’s arms. The Emperor’s face was streaked with tears, his little cheeks flushed red, crying and saying, “Mother is dead! Auntie, Yi’er’s mother is dead!”

The child was still so young, handsome in features, yet bearing Li Ce’s shadow.

She knelt and held the child tightly in her arms. Her entire body was cold, except for a warm spot in her heart.

This was Li Ce’s child, this was Li Ce’s empire, this was Li Ce’s home. He had protected her for so many years, and now, it was her turn to protect him.

“Yi’er, don’t be afraid. You still have your auntie.”

“Miss,”

Meixiang stood quietly to one side, holding a child in her arms. Chu Qiao stood up and slowly walked over. It was Zhan Ziming’s son, Li Qingrong.

This child, who had been titled Prince Rong since birth, was now sleeping peacefully, unaware that his birth had caused such bloody turmoil in the world. His father and mother had died one after another, leaving behind this devastated land and a precarious empire.

“Miss, look how peacefully the Third Prince sleeps,” said Meixiang, who loved children, smiling as she held Prince Rong for Chu Qiao to see.

Chu Qiao reached out to take him, but the child awoke, impatiently yawned, and looked at Chu Qiao with half-open eyes. That appearance was exactly like Li Ce.

Chu Qiao’s eyes grew hot, almost bringing her to tears. She held the child tightly in her arms, her cheek against his little face, her heart filled with vast emptiness.

“Madam, Elder Liu’s son, Liu Yuanzong, is at Tai’an Gate with civil and military officials, asking what has happened and if the Emperor is safe.”

Chu Qiao raised her head, her gaze instantly cooling, and said to He Xiao in a deep voice, “Tell the officials that Regent Zhan Ziyu, together with Imperial Consort Zhan, plotted to harm the Emperor and usurp the throne. Empress Dowager Yuan died in the chaos. The Emperor is safe and sound. The chief villains have been punished. The officials need not worry.”

He Xiao left. Shortly after, cheers of “Long live the Emperor” praising virtue and merit rose from outside the palace gate. Guards reported: that Liu Yuanzong was the first to pledge loyalty, and all court officials submitted. The battles at the South Gate, North Gate, and Qianguang Gate had ceased. The rebellious Central Army soldiers had been captured, awaiting the Lady’s judgment.

The palace gates opened wide. At the foot of the jade steps stood all the civil and military officials and thousands of generals. A red sun rose on the horizon, illuminating the bright universe. Chu Qiao, holding Prince Rong and leading the Emperor, walked step by step up the white jade imperial path.

Cheers of “Long live our Emperor” echoed throughout the palace. The rising sun, with its faint golden color, shone on her dark ink-colored clothes. On the white flag with red clouds, the watermarked characters “Xiuli” were faintly visible. The long wind blew, and the world was vast and desolate.

“Auntie,” the Emperor called out in his childish voice, pointing at the golden dragon throne opposite with some trepidation, frowning and saying, “I don’t want to sit there.”

Chu Qiao knelt, gently stroking his face, and said softly, “Yi’er, that seat was built with the blood and bones of countless people. It is your destined place. Your father and mother died for it. The burden of the Great Tang empire rests on your shoulders. The eyes of all your ancestors are watching you from heaven. Responsibility lies here, and you cannot retreat.”

The Emperor was frightened by her words and grabbed her hand, asking, “What about Auntie? Will Auntie leave me too?”

Chu Qiao helped him onto the throne and said quietly, “Auntie won’t leave. Auntie will always be with you.”

Chu Qiao turned around. All civil and military officials and soldiers simultaneously prostrated themselves. Cheers of “Long Live” echoed in the ears, startling the flocks of birds in the sky.

The officials did not know whom they were bowing to at that moment—whether it was the young child on the throne or the young woman who controlled the Wolf Army and the Elegance Army, two major military powers. Various calculating schemes flew through the court, just as they had for thousands of years, without a moment of peace and tranquility.

Dust returned to dust, settling the ashes. The move had been made, with no room for regret.

Li Ce, rest assured.