Jing Guifei’s heart skipped a beat, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she quickly regained her composure.
The incense in the burner was inherently colorless and odorless. Even if Huang Jiu discovered it, it wouldn’t prove anything.
Thinking this, Jing Guifei shot Chun’er a meaningful glance and said, “Chun’er, escort Chan’er back first.”
Chun’er bowed in acknowledgment.
She approached Liu Chan and gestured politely before firmly taking her arm. “You must be tired today, Miss Liu. Allow this servant to accompany you back to rest.”
Liu Chan agreed, bid farewell to Jing Guifei with proper etiquette, and turned to leave.
Throughout the journey, Chun’er’s expression remained grave. Even when Liu Chan deliberately tried to make conversation, she responded distractedly.
After seeing Liu Chan back to her room, Chun’er didn’t even bother with farewell formalities before hurriedly rushing off.
Liu Chan watched her retreating figure disappear with icy eyes, then curled her lips into a faint smile. She changed into comfortable clothing, sat by the bed, and sank into deep thought.
In her previous life, she had dreamed of escaping this soul-devouring Imperial Palace, only to have her hopes cruelly crushed.
Jing Guifei wanted to squeeze every last drop of usefulness from her, the Emperor loathed her to death, and even the palace maids and eunuchs opportunistically trampled her like mud.
She had been slowly worn down like this, her very spirit trapped within these deep palace walls, finding no peace.
Now, the opportunity to leave the palace lay before her, yet she no longer wished to go.
She would climb step by step, trampling all those who had humiliated her beneath her feet, making them taste the agony of begging for death but being denied it!
“Xu Jing’er.” Liu Chan murmured this all-too-familiar name, her eyebrows lifting slightly.
Who would have thought that Jing Guifei, enjoying years of imperial favor, was merely someone else’s substitute in Xiao Lin’s heart?
Her spirit had once followed Xiao Lin and seen Xu Jing’er’s portrait. Jing Guifei bore a thirty percent resemblance in the eyes and brows.
This mere thirty percent similarity was enough for Xiao Lin to indulge her recklessly all these years, even granting her the title “Jing.”
From Xiao Lin’s murmuring soliloquies, she gradually learned that Xu Jing’er had once saved him from danger when he led troops into battle, ultimately dying before his very eyes.
A white moonlight dying at the peak of romance—no one could compare.
Today was the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, coinciding with Xu Jing’er’s death anniversary.
Every year on this day, Xiao Lin would drink himself into a stupor and then summon Jing Guifei to attend him.
Though Jing Guifei didn’t know the reason, she had memorized this pattern and devised such a scheme.
Liu Chan shook her head, feeling that men’s so-called love was utterly ironic.
She watched the Emperor searching among the figures of the women in the rear palace, watched favored consorts vie for the Emperor’s affection, swaying between hope and fear, unaware they were merely substitutes.
She had no intention of repeating their mistakes.
The palace already had an “Xu Jing’er” personally “cultivated” by Xiao Lin. She didn’t plan to become another wooden shadow.
Compared to superficial resemblance, she believed what truly attracted the Emperor was inner character. And she would become the only “Xu Jing’er” in this deep palace who could make him let down his guard.
The next day, no one from Taiji Hall came looking for Liu Chan or Jing Guifei.
The entire day passed with an unsettling tranquility.
Liu Chan understood clearly that her refusal yesterday should have cleared some suspicion from her. The remaining incense ashes and the intimate knowledge of his habits all pointed toward Jing Guifei.
Perhaps Xiao Lin had chosen to be lenient with Jing Guifei, whom he had personally groomed.
But this leniency had its limits—a man as profound and calculating as Xiao Lin could least tolerate being manipulated.
What she needed to do now was climb higher, disrupt Jing Guifei’s composure, and make her reap what she had sown!
As for the small incense burner, she had already buried it in a hidden spot. As long as the burner remained undiscovered, Jing Guifei would remain unsettled.
Lost in these thoughts, Liu Chan was about to drift into sleep when she heard a sudden rustle. A handkerchief was swiftly pressed over her mouth.
In the moment before losing consciousness, she thought: What was destined to come had finally arrived.
When she opened her eyes again, the bright yellow bed curtains reserved for the emperor filled her vision. The candlelight, bright as daylight, made her squint. And… seated by the bed was Xiao Lin, his expression stern.
“Speak for yourself. How did you have the audacity to climb into my bed?”
Liu Chan abruptly lifted her head to look at him, her eyes instantly welling with innocent tears.
Her small hands clutched tightly at her nightgown, her voice hoarse and disbelieving. “This humble girl… this humble girl would never dare offend. You are the Son of Heaven, and also… my sister’s husband…”
Struggling against her fear, her shoulders trembling, Liu Chan gritted her teeth and said, “Yesterday, my sister… Her Highness the Guifei urged me to drink several cups of fruit wine. I have little tolerance for alcohol and was taken to rest elsewhere. I had no idea you would enter that room.”
Besides, how could a weak young woman like her be casually resting in a room the emperor frequented?
Her words clearly conveyed to Xiao Lin that she lacked the means to orchestrate such a scheme.
Seeing that Xiao Lin remained silent, Liu Chan’s delicate face hardened with resolve. “Since Your Majesty views this humble girl in such a light, even though nothing happened between us, my purity… I am willing to die to prove my innocence!”
The next moment, she abruptly stood and rushed toward a nearby pillar.
Her action was so sudden that Huang Jiu, standing nearby, reacted just in time. Dropping the duster in his hand, he hurried forward to stop her. “Good heavens, Miss Liu, you mustn’t do this!”
Huang Jiu couldn’t help but shoot a reproachful glance at his master.
What had he driven this poor girl to?
Before Xiao Lin’s mind could fully process the scene, he had already taken a step forward. Unnoticed by anyone, a flicker of regret passed through his eyes.
He had known all along that Jing Guifei was behind this.
Yet, whether it was due to lingering doubts about Liu Chan or some other unspoken reason, he had summoned her for questioning.
He never expected her to react with such fierce determination, her first instinct being to seek death to clear her name.
Women in the palace would usually do anything to throw themselves at him.
A trace of irritation flashed in Xiao Lin’s heart. His expression remained cold as he spoke, “I merely asked you a question. Was it worth trying to take your life? Is your life so worthless?”
Liu Chan slowly knelt, pressing her forehead to the floor, but said no more.
Her slender shoulders trembled slightly, as though she were silently weeping, yet not a sound escaped her.
In Xiao Lin’s mind, another equally stubborn figure surfaced—one who had declared she would never be anyone’s concubine in this lifetime. No matter how deeply she loved him, she would never abandon that principle.
When Xiao Lin spoke again, his tone had softened considerably. “I know this matter has nothing to do with you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have… pushed me away. I just wanted to ask if you noticed anything unusual in the room yesterday, like incense burning?”
Before she could respond, Huang Jiu hastily added, “Did Miss Liu feel unusually warm yesterday?”
Seeing that her innocence had been established, Liu Chan collected her thoughts and finally raised her head, gazing blankly at Xiao Lin above her.
Her eyelashes, still glistening with crystal tears, fluttered as she whispered, “Your Majesty also felt something was wrong?”