Consort Lan staggered back several steps, forcing herself to remain calm as she said, “Bring the body here. I wish to examine it personally.”
“But… due to the fire, the corpse is in a ghastly state, Your Highness…”
“No matter. Bring it.”
The guards soon carried the body in, its entire form shrouded in white cloth.
Consort Lan hurried over, yanked away the cloth, and looked at the face of the corpse. At the sight, she let out a shriek, fell to the ground, and crawled backward several paces.
The corpse no longer had anything resembling a face—only a bloody, mangled mess. The eyelids and lips had been burned away, revealing empty eye sockets and a mouthful of blackened, charred teeth.
After a long while, Consort Lan finally mustered the courage to crawl toward the body again. This time, she only lifted a corner of the white cloth, exposing the corpse’s right arm.
Locating the scar on Prince Zhen’s right arm, Consort Lan first cried out in anguish, then, upon closer inspection, burst into laughter. “This is not my Cheng’er, haha—this is not my Cheng’er—”
Consort Lan alternated between weeping and laughing, her expression wild and frenzied. The palace attendants watched with creeping dread, one by one lowering their heads, too afraid to look further.
This scene of madness persisted for a long time until a gentle voice echoed through the hall.
“Mother Consort, the floor is cold. Please rise.”
The newcomer wore a moon-white blue brocade robe embroidered with Suzhou cloud patterns, his fine hair tied high with a silver-white ribbon. His skin was as delicate as jade, his features refined, and his demeanor elegant. His voice matched his appearance—truly a gentle, jade-like gentleman from a distant land.
This was Shang Jingmu, the Fifth Prince of Daxia. Having lost his mother in early childhood, he had been raised in Consort Lan’s palace since the age of five. Though Consort Lan had never shown him excessive favor, she had never treated him poorly either. Shang Jingmu had studied and pursued an official career alongside Prince Zhen since childhood, later devoting himself wholeheartedly to assisting Prince Zhen in his quest for power.
Consort Lan turned to look at him, her gaze indifferent—neither warm nor distant. “Why have you come?”
“Your son noticed that the messenger had not returned for a long time, so I took the liberty of entering. I hope Mother Consort will not blame me.”
“Very well. Since you are here, take a look at the person on the floor.”
Consort Lan waved a hand toward the palace attendants standing nearby, and they filed out as if escaping death.
Shang Jingmu glanced at the corpse on the floor, his eyes filled with confusion.
“They say it is Cheng’er’s body,” Consort Lan said softly, brushing away the tears on her face.
Hearing this, Shang Jingmu trembled all over. A flicker of too many emotions passed through his eyes in an instant—doubt, confusion, sorrow, shock—finally settling into overwhelming disbelief. “Impossible! This cannot be Imperial Brother!”
With that, Shang Jingmu strode forward and pulled away the white cloth. At first glance, he saw the inhuman face, paused briefly, then did the same as Consort Lan—carefully examining the scar on the right arm.
Like Consort Lan, his grief soon turned to joy. He looked at Consort Lan, unable to conceal his delight, and said, “Your son knew it wasn’t him. Look here, Mother Consort. Although the schemer was meticulous and investigated the scar Imperial Brother had here since childhood, the forgery of this scar is too crude. Therefore, this person is definitely not Imperial Brother.”
Consort Lan stared at Shang Jingmu, silent for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Mother Consort also feels it is not him. What do you think the person behind this intends?”
Shang Jingmu covered the body with the white cloth again, helped Consort Lan—who was still sitting on the floor—to her feet, and said gently, “Your son believes this person may want to make Mother Consort hesitate and refrain from acting rashly.”
“Who is this person?”
“Your son does not know.”
“You do not think it is the Crown Prince?”
“There’s no need. If it were the Crown Prince, he wouldn’t have left any chance for survival for the imperial brother.”
Consort Lan raised her eyes to look at him. “Why wouldn’t he? Have you forgotten? Even without Cheng’er, your mother still has you. You also have the ability to contend for the throne with the Crown Prince. So keeping Cheng’er alive would only serve to restrain you. Isn’t that right, Mu’er?”
Shang Jingmu slightly lowered his head, his expression unchanged. “Your son has no such ambition, and even less would he act recklessly now.”
Consort Lan asked again, “In Mu’er’s opinion, should this matter be reported to the Emperor?”
“It can be, but it would be useless.” Shang Jingmu’s eyes held some obscure emotions, his tone indifferent, showing no trace of respect for the Emperor as if speaking of someone he held in utter contempt.
“Haha, well said! It was clearly the loss of my son and his, yet he is so useless.”
Consort Lan’s eyes brimmed with sorrow, her stunning face tinged with desolation. She waved her hand at Shang Jingmu. “You may go back. Let me think carefully… think…”
Shang Jingmu bowed respectfully and turned to leave. The vast palace chamber was finally left with only Consort Lan and the corpse lying on the ground.
In the silent palace, a woman’s low, broken singing suddenly began.
“Little girl, be good, little girl, be good, sleep well and mother will pick flowers for you.
Little girl, so pretty, little girl, so pretty, one day you’ll outshine all the flowers.
Little girl, smile, little girl, smile, holding your little brother’s hand tight.
Little brother cries, little brother cries, turn around and the little girl is gone.
Mother searches, mother searches, both little brother and little girl have left, leaving mother alone in vain labor.”
As soon as Shang Jingmu stepped out of the palace gate, he saw a familiar carriage waiting there. He approached and leaned close to the window, asking, “What do you need from me?”
The person inside the carriage countered with a question instead of answering. “Did you find out what you wanted to know?”
Shang Jingmu stated with certainty, “Prince Zhen is dead.”
“Hehe,” a light laugh came from inside the carriage. “So sure?”
“Although the body was faked, regardless of who did it, there was no need to leave any survivors.”
“How so?”
Shang Jingmu sighed lightly. “Most likely, the assassins needed to keep the corpse to report completion of their mission, or perhaps to prevent Mother from investigating further.”
“So Consort Lan doesn’t believe Prince Zhen is dead?”
“She simply dares not believe it.”
“What a clever move to lure someone into foolish hesitation. Should I congratulate you or worry for you? Now that the puppet is gone, what will you do next?”
“Fourth Imperial Brother never harmed me.”
“Hmph, he was just using you.”
Shang Jingmu seemed indifferent to these words, neither angered nor refuting them. He changed the subject and asked, “What exactly did you need from me?”
The man inside the carriage said mysteriously, “I’ve discovered a secret. Get in the carriage, and I’ll tell you slowly.”
Shang Jingmu swiftly climbed into the carriage. With a neigh from the horse, it left a fading shadow in the evening glow as it moved further away.
Qu Fu.
Seeing that Qu Yi had calmed down, Du Youxia finally couldn’t help but ask, “What exactly happened?”
Qu Qing was about to speak up and question her parents, seeking justice for her neglected sister, but Qu Yi hurriedly reached out to cover her mouth, blocking her words.
Qu Yi’s small face was flushed red from crying, yet she still smiled and said, “In reply to Mother, it’s nothing, nothing at all. It’s just that Yi’er was being mischievous and accidentally made Sister angry.”
Qu Qing didn’t understand and wanted to speak up again to argue, but Qu Yi used both hands to desperately cover her mouth, her eyes showing a deep plea.
At this point, Qu Qing had no choice but to swallow her words, feeling so full that she wouldn’t need dinner that evening.
Du Youxia glanced at her two daughters and couldn’t be bothered to ask further.
After all, she wasn’t particularly concerned about what “enormous” grievance Qu Yi had suffered or whether she was merely throwing a tantrum to gain sympathy and affection.
But there was one thing she absolutely had to clarify. “Who is that Jing San?”
Here it comes, it’s finally here. Qu Yi’s heart pounded wildly. Her hand, which had been covering Qu Qing’s, now clutched her sister’s arm tightly. Her eyes darted around the room before she took a deep breath, mustered her courage, and shouted, “I don’t care who Jing San is! I’ve set my heart on him, and I will marry him!”
These words left everyone stunned.
“Nonsense!” Qu Qing raised her voice in reprimand.
Qu Yi’s heart trembled with fear again. Oh no, oh no, she had angered her sister once more. She clung even tighter to Qu Qing’s arm and whispered in protest, “It’s not nonsense…”
Suppressing her anger, Qu Qing asked coldly, “Then do you know who he is?”
“I… I know. He told me everything.”
“You knew and still…?”
“But I just like him, and I want to marry him. Sister, didn’t you say that Yi’er could marry whomever she liked? Well, Yi’er likes him now.”
Qu Qing was shocked, her pupils widening in disbelief. Qu Yi’s confession completely exceeded her understanding of this younger sister.
Du Youxia was also shocked, though her surprise was overshadowed by disgust. She was about to scold Qu Yi when Qu Qing stopped her, suddenly realizing that she couldn’t take Qu Yi’s words at face value. Qu Yi had always been adept at downplaying serious matters and exaggerating trivial ones—a habit of three parts performance and seven parts fabrication that might not have truly changed.
Qu Qing asked, “Why do you like him?”
Qu Yi secretly rejoiced. She had already prepared an answer to this question earlier, so without hesitation, she responded, “He is handsome, with eyes as bright as stars. I fell for him at first sight. Moreover, he comes from a noble background, has an extraordinary demeanor, and treats me with such gentleness and care. How could I not like him?”
Qu Qing was left speechless, unsure how to respond. To her, Qu Yi’s words sounded reasonable enough, but they also seemed undeniably theatrical.
Du Youxia slammed the table and demanded, “Who exactly is he?”
Qu Qing sighed. “The Crown Prince, Shang Jingci.”
“Nonsense!” Du Youxia roared, her voice even more piercing than that of a maddened lioness.
Qu Yi trembled in fear, hiding behind Qu Qing and not daring to look at her mother.
“You actually dare to aspire to marry into the royal family?”
Qu Yi whispered, “I…”
But Du Youxia gave her no chance to explain, continuing to shout, “All this time, you’ve been pretending to be obedient, clever, and pitiful! I never realized you harbored such ambitions! Are you dissatisfied with the Qu Family’s lack of power and influence, forcing you to throw yourself at the Crown Prince’s feet? What exactly are you scheming?”
“Mother!” Qu Qing firmly shielded the trembling Qu Yi behind her, preventing Du Youxia from saying anything harsher.
Seeing this, Du Youxia flicked her sleeve and declared, “Unless I die, I will never agree to this!” With those words, she turned and stormed out.
Qu Youyu, who had been watching silently on the sidelines without a chance to intervene, finally stirred. He pointed at Qu Yi behind Qu Qing, unable to speak for a moment. Heaving a heavy sigh, he called out, “Madam, oh Madam!” before hurrying out after her.
Qu Qing turned around and half-embraced the still trembling Qu Yi, comforting her, “Alright, alright, Mother has left.”
Unexpectedly, Qu Yi lifted her head, eyes red, and declared firmly and resolutely to Qu Qing once more, “I don’t care, I still want to marry him!” After saying this, she shook off Qu Qing’s arm and ran away on her own.
Qu Qing stood alone in place, somewhat at a loss. The Crown Prince was a man of deep schemes. If not for her previous assassination attempt on Prince Zhen, perhaps this marriage could still be negotiated, but now…
As she thought, Qu Qing decided to return to Chunjiang Lou once more to investigate the Crown Prince’s usual conduct—whether he had any romantic interests. If she could prove to Qu Yi that the Crown Prince was not a suitable match, perhaps she could still prevent it.