The night was deep and heavy with dew. Ni Chang sat by the window, her eyes staring blankly into the pitch-black darkness outside.
“Young mistress, it’s late. You should rest early! You’ve been sitting rigidly for two hours—it’s likely the Emperor won’t come tonight,” said Yan Yan, her personal maid.
Ni Chang pretended not to hear, as usual, remaining perfectly still in her original posture.
Yan Yan walked to the bed, straightened the gold thread bedding, then glanced back at her and sighed helplessly.
Slowly, Ni Chang rose from the chair, supporting herself on the table, cold sweat continuously beading on her forehead. She took one step forward, and everything went dark before her eyes.
With a thud.
She fell heavily to the ground.
Yan Yan: “Young mistress, what’s wrong?”
Ni Chang shook her head weakly, her voice feeble: “I’m a bit dizzy.”
Yan Yan hurried over and helped her frail body up: “Young mistress, take it slow. It must be because you’ve been feeding the princess too much blood lately, which has led to this. If you just take more tonics, it will naturally improve.”
“Tonics? As a lowly mortal soul like me in this vast Grand Dusk Palace, everyone wishes for my disappearance—who would give me any tonics?
Besides you, who truly treats me as a sister, who else would even glance my way? I should have listened to them back then and reincarnated early. That way, I wouldn’t be in this impossible situation now.”
Ni Chang’s voice was filled with sorrow and resentment.
Just as Yan Yan was about to ask who “they” were, a green-robed man with strands of red hair drifted in through the window.
“Young mistress, the Emperor is here.”
Dong Yue entered and watched as Ni Chang, swaying unsteadily, half-knelt to pay her respects. His heart tightened involuntarily.
He moved to help her up, but she deftly avoided him, not even sparing him a glance, and went straight to the bed, sitting down against the bedpost.
“Your Majesty, for you to personally come all this way so late at night, I am overwhelmed. I wonder if you’ve brought the bowl?”
Dong Yue sat down beside her: “Ni Chang, what I owe you this time, I will repay someday.”
“Repay? How will you repay it? And with what?”
After speaking, Ni Chang moved like a puppet to the dressing table and sat down. She skillfully rolled up her sleeve, revealing a wrist marked with scars of varying lengths, like centipedes, starkly visible.
She picked up the dagger already prepared on the table and forcefully made a casual cut on her wrist.
Without a single furrow in her brow, she watched the blood flow into the vessel Dong Yue had prepared.
Dong Yue was momentarily stunned by her question. After a moment’s thought, he said, “…How about I make you my Empress?”
Ni Chang instinctively stood up and moved far away from him, as if avoiding a venomous snake or scorpion.
“You…? Am I so fearsome?”
Ni Chang shuddered, glaring bitterly out the window: “If you have no other urgent matters, Your Majesty, please return early! This servant needs to rest.”
The man she once found utterly captivating and unforgettable, whose mere silhouette could make her heart race.
Now he felt so unfamiliar, someone she no longer wished to engage with.
The world says Dong Yue does not love the daughter of the Jade Emperor of the Nine Heavens. Reflecting on it now, it was surely just to avoid drawing attention, fearing harm would come to his beloved!
Only deep affection could drive such protective urges. Otherwise, why would he—renowned for his heartless demeanor—personally come here every night to draw her blood for nourishing the princess?
Dong Yue glanced at her while holding the freshly drawn blood, hesitating as if to speak before turning away silently.
Yan Yan gently latched the doors and windows before withdrawing.
Lying on the bed with her hand pressed against the still-unbandaged wrist, Ni Chang’s thoughts swirled chaotically. The time had come.
Once the princess recovered, she would leave this place.
All love and hatred, gratitude and grudges—let them return to where they’d originated!
Much later, as dawn bleached the sky, Yan Yan slipped soundlessly through the door.
Clutching her dried-bloodstained arm, Ni Chang whispered hoarsely, “What is it?”
Yan Yan paused. “The princess sent maids with tonics. She invites you to admire flowers with her this afternoon.”
“Tell her I’ve lost too much blood to walk comfortably.”
Ni Chang couldn’t fathom why the princess had recently shifted moods, repeatedly extending goodwill.
Perhaps guilt stirred upon learning her survival required daily draughts of Ni Chang’s blood?
Yet wasn’t it the princess who’d commanded Emperor Dong Yue to demand it?
But Ni Chang was no longer the docile, obliging girl who’d once sought foothold here.
After an indeterminable stretch, Yan Yan guided Ni Chang outdoors, settling her into a prepared lounge chair to bask in sunlight.
Soon, Ni Chang drifted into fitful slumber, tumbling into a hazy dream.
She saw herself a century prior in the Hall of King Yama, first beholding Dong Yue—his stern lips untouched by smile.
The man stood before her gripping the Sky Pointing Sword, voice glacial: “Your weeping is too faint. Cry louder.”
She’d lunged forward, kicking aside hall furniture while seizing his collar in fury: “If you’ve captured the wrong soul, return me to the mortal realm!”
When told return was impossible, Ni Chang shattered.
Perhaps recognizing their error, Dong Yue arranged her stay in King Yama’s hall to await reincarnation.
Later, he incidentally discovered her culinary skill suited his palate exceptionally, and unprecedentedly brought her to the Netherworld’s highest seat—Grand Dusk Palace atop Mount Tai.
Within the palace where daylight and darkness intertwined, flora and fauna flourished—a rare beauty unseen elsewhere in the Netherworld.
But Ni Chang soon noticed everyone from Ghost Messengers to kitchen maids resented her, the lone lowly spirit personally escorted by the Emperor.
Whispers spread: Dong Yue and Ni Chang’s improper relations… leading to relentless bullying.
Over time, as Dong Yue cast her into the kitchens and never returned, rumors faded and tormentors relented.
Then one day, short-handed, Ni Chang was sent to deliver Dong Yue’s lunch.
His rebuke echoed from within: “An unwed pair sharing chambers—what impropriety! The fifty-millennium term ends today. Leave, and never return.”
Princess Long Chuyao’s mournful voice followed: “Dong Yue, I’ve waited and loved you all these years—does that move you not at all?”
“Could it be true, as they say, you’ve fallen for that base spirit? How can I, a princess of the Nine Heavens, compare less?”
“Address me as Emperor. ‘Dong Yue’ is not for your tongue.”
“Emperor… you are truly merciless!”
“Ruthlessness? When have I ever been sentimental? Not toward you, nor anyone else.”
Upon hearing this, Ni Chang was secretly heartbroken for a long time.
She still remembered how amused she felt the first time she saw Dong Yue stealthily devour the dinner she had prepared.
Later, during the birthday banquet for King Yama’s son Yan Lie, the cake she had personally made somehow ended up smashed all over Dong Yue, who had come to attend the celebration.
Everyone was so terrified they knelt on the ground. As the instigator, Ni Chang told them it was a mortal birthday custom and even sang “Happy Birthday.” Unexpectedly, she managed to bluff her way through, and she couldn’t help stealing an extra glance at Dong Yue then.
Afterward, while gathering ingredients to cook dinner for Yan Lie, she accidentally wandered into the forbidden back hills of the Netherworld and nearly became food for a monster that resembled an ox covered in hedgehog quills.
Just then, Dong Yue descended from the sky, instantly drawing the Sky Pointing Sword. Before she could process what was happening, she saw the man deliver a powerful palm strike—the monster was sent tearing through the sky, flung to who-knows-where.
Only then did Ni Chang learn the beast attacking her was Qiongqi, and from that moment, she realized she had fallen deeply in love with Dong Yue.
If all the previous incidents had only given her a slight fondness for Dong Yue, this event made her genuinely adore him. Wherever he appeared, her shadow was seldom far behind.
Even a century later, upon learning she would soon be reincarnated, she specifically sought out King Yama and begged him to let her stay in the Netherworld.
King Yama had long seen through her feelings and kindly warned her: “The Emperor has lived hundreds of thousands of years—countless maidens have fancied him. Not to mention others, just compare yourself to the princess before you. How can you possibly measure up?
“And the Emperor? He pays them no heed. You! Take back these thoughts and go be reincarnated promptly! That is the right choice for you.”
Ni Chang gazed firmly at King Yama and said only: “We mortals have a saying: ‘Sincerity can pierce metal and stone.’ As long as I don’t reincarnate, I will make Dong Yue love me—it’s only a matter of time.”
How self-deceptive those earlier confident words seemed now.
Then, that incident occurred. That day, Ni Chang was in the kitchen preparing to make some pastries for Dong Yue when the princess’s personal maid Ming’er approached and said, “Ni Chang, our princess heard from the Emperor that your pastries are delicious. She specifically wishes for you to make some for her to taste. Would you be willing?”
Ni Chang smiled in reply: “Sister Ming’er, what are you saying? Since the princess wishes to eat them, I’ll make them right away. Go back and tell her I’ll deliver them as soon as they’re ready.”
Ming’er lingered by the stove, peeking at this and lifting lids of that, clearly unwilling to leave.
Noticing Ni Chang’s puzzled look, she gave an awkward laugh and said, “Just carry on. I’ll look around here casually. Once they’re done, I’ll take them directly to the princess.”
Ni Chang didn’t think much of it and sped up her work, eager to send Ming’er off quickly.
“Miss, the White Stamen Flower Cake is ready. Please deliver it.”
Ni Chang handed the freshly made pastry to Ming’er.
Ming’er took the flower cake from Ni Chang and looked at her arrogantly, saying, “What do you mean, ‘Miss’? We’re both servants—we should just do our duties. As for other matters, they’re not for us to consider.”
“I advise you, Miss Ni Chang, to know your place when it comes to certain people and matters. Otherwise, you won’t even know how you die.” After saying this, Ming’er carried the tray and walked out without looking back.
Not long after, Ming’er barged into the kitchen with others and forcibly dragged her before Dong Yue for interrogation.
It was then that Ni Chang learned the princess had eaten the pastries she made and was afflicted with the difficult-to-cure Autumn Chill Poison. From the Ghost Physician, she discovered that to cure this rare poison, one must blend the blood of an Ancient Python with Human Soul Blood to create the medicinal catalyst.
Hearing this, Ni Chang was startled, recalling that when she was falsely accused by the princess and imprisoned in the dungeon years ago, there happened to be an Ancient Python in the cell.
In her struggle for survival against it, she accidentally inhaled the python’s neck blood, causing the giant serpent to immediately kneel and beg for mercy before transforming into a pattern that remained on Ni Chang’s arm. No one knew of this incident.
She didn’t know how the princess learned about this matter. Consequently, that very night, Dong Yue who never previously entered Ni Chang’s chambers, began coming every night to demand her blood, and this had continued for over three months now.
Thinking of how she had never lost composure before, Ni Chang for the first time became hysterical from wrist-cutting: “Your Majesty, please believe me! I didn’t poison her, I truly didn’t!”
Dong Yue’s icy purple eyes regarded her: “Whether you poisoned her or not is irrelevant. What matters is that your blood can save the princess – that alone is sufficient.”
After speaking, she watched as Dong Yue coldly picked up a dagger and made a deep cut across her wrist, as if simultaneously stabbing brutally into her heart. The piercing pain instantly numbed her arm.
At this moment, Ni Chang suddenly understood that no matter what she did, she would never be different from others to him. In Dong Yue’s eyes, she, Ni Chang, was merely an insignificant ant lighter than dust.