Shang Changge parted her crimson, full lips and spoke slowly, enunciating every word:
“I am the master, and you are the servants. Whether you tried to harm me or not is irrelevant. If I want you dead, then dead you shall be.”
Excellent.
Utterly unscrupulous. Utterly arrogant.
The last time someone was this brazen and domineering… was the last time.
Qinghe and Qingyu’s eyes were filled with fear, unwillingness, and resentment, yet they were powerless to do anything about it.
Shang Changge had seen that kind of look countless times before and remained completely unfazed. Turning to Qingyao, she spoke in a cheerful tone dripping with malice:
“I’ve changed my mind. Since they’re dogs that bite the hand that feeds them, they should be beaten to death with clubs.
Go call a few guards. Have them do it right here. No need to kill them outright—just beat them until they’re half dead.
Afterward, reward them with the leftovers from lunch. Didn’t they say the food wasn’t poisoned? I’d like to see whether they’ll die after eating it.”
Qinghe and Qingyu did indeed die.
Before their deaths, they made one last desperate attempt to save themselves.
They asked whether the Princess really didn’t want to know who had ordered them to act.
Of course Shang Changge didn’t.
She possessed the script of the story. What was there that she didn’t know?
Why would she need them to tell her?
What a joke.
As for killing two people immediately after transmigrating into a novel—
Was that really okay?
What wasn’t okay about it?
The original host was a villain by design, and Shang Changge wasn’t some saintly savior either.
Qinghe and Qingyu had betrayed their master for personal gain and cost the original owner her life.
Now that Shang Changge occupied the original owner’s body and had effectively become her, was she supposed to spare them just to “redeem” the character?
Was she sick in the head?
Not to mention that mercy toward enemies was cruelty toward oneself.
If she actually did something like that, whether the original owner’s coffin lid could stay closed would be another matter entirely.
A person could be ruthless, but not that ruthlessly shameless.
Besides, redemption was never on the table.
She had no intention of reforming herself.
She simply wasn’t a good person.
The rain continued to pour.
The Princess’s residence was enormous and extravagantly luxurious, containing eighteen large and small palace halls.
Yet in this vast estate, Shang Changge was the only master.
Everyone else was a servant.
There were four chief stewards alone, and when one counted the death warriors, shadow guards, guards, attendants, and servants both in the open and hidden, the total numbered nearly a thousand people.
The estate had been bestowed upon the original owner by the Emperor on the year she turned eighteen.
At the same time, he granted her the title of Princess Anguo—”Protector of the Nation.”
It was his way of proclaiming to the entire realm the supreme honor and prestige enjoyed by this daughter born to him and the Empress, his first child.
“Tsk.”
Staring at the curtain of torrential rain, Shang Changge clicked her tongue and marveled at the old Emperor’s scheming nature.
Had she not read the novel, she might actually have believed the old man genuinely doted on his daughter.
Leaving everything else aside—
If his fatherly love were real, would the original owner have died so easily and so inexplicably?
“Your Highness.”
It was Qingyao.
Having already changed into dry clothes, Qingyao entered with several servants carrying tea and refreshments.
The tea was premium pre-Qingming Longjing.
The pastries were all exquisitely crafted.
Every item was first tasted by someone to ensure there was no problem before being placed beside Shang Changge.
Shang Changge felt that being a princess was truly troublesome.
Even eating a bite of food or drinking a sip of tea required caution, because a single mistake could result in being poisoned to death.
She found herself missing, just a little, the body she once possessed in the apocalypse—a body that healed itself from injuries and was immune to all poisons.
Qingyao reported:
“Qinghe and Qingyu’s bodies have been wrapped according to your instructions. They’re currently stored in a carriage in the small courtyard by the western rear gate.”
She hesitated before continuing.
“Also…”
Presenting a jade pendant she had dug out from some forgotten corner of the treasury, Qingyao said:
“This is the jade pendant you asked me to find.”
The pendant was carved from fine white nephrite and decorated with cloud patterns.
Other than being an exceptionally valuable piece of jade, there was nothing particularly special about it.
Shang Changge did not explain what she intended to do with it.
After finishing her tea and sampling several pastries, she took Qingyao with her to the western rear gate.
The rain had stopped.
It was early autumn, and the three osmanthus trees in the courtyard were in full bloom.
Clusters of tiny pale-yellow blossoms released waves of sweet fragrance, which conveniently masked the scent of blood emanating from the carriage.
Lifting the carriage curtain, Shang Changge was greeted by a sight that made the corner of her mouth twitch.
Qinghe and Qingyu’s corpses had been crudely tied together with thick hemp rope.
And tied onto the knot was an exquisite pink ribbon bow.
Shang Changge turned to Qingyao.
“Which genius came up with this masterpiece?”
Qingyao answered honestly:
“I did.”
Looking rather innocent, she explained:
“Didn’t Your Highness say these were to be sent as a gift to the person who bought them and turned them into lapdogs? I thought that since it’s a gift, it should naturally be properly wrapped.
We can’t have people saying the Princess’s Residence lacks manners.”
Shang Changge internally exclaimed, Now that’s impressive.
Patting Qingyao’s shoulder, she generously praised her:
“Beautifully done!”
Creative thinking and full of ideas.
She loved young people with wild imaginations.
Wasn’t life instantly more interesting now?
Perfect.
Qingyao became a little embarrassed by the praise and finally voiced another question:
“Your Highness said you’d personally deliver this gift at dusk.
The only place we’re going this evening is the poetry gathering Miss Yun is hosting at the pavilion in the middle of the lake.
Could the mastermind behind today’s incident be Miss Yun?
Or perhaps one of the other attendees?”
The “Miss Yun” she referred to was Yun Xiangrong, daughter of the current Vice Minister of Revenue.
The Vice Minister’s elder sister happened to be the current Imperial Consort.
In other words, the Imperial Consort was Yun Xiangrong’s aunt.
Shang Changge neither confirmed nor denied it.
Instead, she took the lead and walked away.
“Let’s go. To Mingxuan Hall.”
Checking on Qinghe and Qingyu’s corpses had merely been a stop along the way.
She had another purpose for coming here.
She was looking for someone—the Divine Physician Jing whom Qinghe and Qingyu had mentioned while trying to clear themselves.
The so-called Divine Physician Jing was named Jing Xiuming.
Nineteen years old.
Originally, he had been an ordinary physician working at the Baicao Medical Hall in the royal capital.
The original owner suffered from a chronic head ailment and frequently experienced unbearable headaches.
Jing Xiuming happened to be highly skilled at treating such conditions.
Through a fortunate coincidence—or rather, a carefully arranged one by interested parties—he entered the Princess’s Residence and became responsible for treating her.
As time passed, the original owner, who was three years older than him, gradually developed feelings for him.
As a result, she granted him many special privileges.
For example, despite being a commoner, he was allowed to reside in Mingxuan Hall within the Princess’s Residence.
And all the servants working in Mingxuan Hall had been personally brought in by Jing Xiuming from outside.
Mingxuan Hall.
Before Shang Changge even arrived, a servant sweeping fallen leaves at the entrance spotted her from afar and hurried inside to report her arrival.
Soon, Jing Xiuming emerged with all the staff of Mingxuan Hall to greet her.
“This humble commoner greets Your Highness.”
His voice was gentle and refined, neither servile nor arrogant.
His etiquette was impeccable, leaving no room for criticism.
Yet anyone listening carefully could detect the deliberate distance hidden beneath that flawless courtesy.
“Rise.”
Shang Changge had inherited the original owner’s body and status by accident.
She had not inherited the original owner’s taste in men.
The indifference in her attitude was worlds apart from how the original owner had treated Jing Xiuming.
Everyone was stunned.
Including Qingyao.
Jing Xiuming undoubtedly possessed a handsome face.
A refined, scholarly sort of beauty.
Perhaps because he was only nineteen and inexperienced in the ways of the world.
Or perhaps because he practiced medicine.
His gentleness carried an air of innocence untouched by worldly corruption.
A flicker of surprise crossed that innocent-looking face.
But because he did not truly care, the surprise quickly vanished.
Returning to his usual gentle demeanor, he asked with concern:
“Has Your Highness’s head ailment flared up again?
If so, you need only send someone to summon me. Why trouble yourself to come here personally?”
Listening to those words, Shang Changge almost suspected he was subtly implying that her brain had malfunctioned again, which was why she had come looking for him.
But more than that, she found it ironic.
The increasingly frequent headaches suffered by the original owner were entirely thanks to the man standing before her.
As expected.
Those who appeared the most harmless and innocent were often the most skilled deceivers.
“No.”
Unlike Jing Xiuming’s gentle and harmless appearance, the original owner was breathtakingly beautiful in a way that felt aggressive and dangerous.
In fact, she looked exactly like Shang Changge’s former self from the apocalypse.
Even their voices were identical—casual, lazy, and edged with sharpness.
“I came today because there is something I need to discuss.
Physician Jing, would you kindly take your people aside and clear the way?
Or are you saying that I can no longer enter a hall within my own residence?”
Jing Xiuming froze briefly.
Then he immediately led everyone aside and opened a path.
“Your Highness jests. This humble commoner would never dare.”