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Noble Consort Pan surveyed Zhu Bafu's new appearance with satisfaction. Her face had once been fairly pretty, with a certain charm in men's clothes. Now it was crisscrossed like a chessboard, mottled red and white—a sight to behold, and barely human. "What's wrong? Weren't you so sharp-tongued just now? Why aren't you talking back? All you can do is drool like a lapdog? Tsk, how filthy." With that, she raised her hand and slapped her again.

"Let's see you seduce men with that ruined face!"

"...If... a man still likes me when I'm this ugly, wouldn't that be true love?" She had been in so much pain she could only click her tongue, unable to speak, but suddenly she opened her mouth as if begging for another beating. Every word tore at her wounds. Saliva dribbled from her mouth, and the pain pierced her to the bone. But she was going to be beheaded anyway. At least Noble Consort Pan couldn't openly kill her before she was taken to the execution ground. Why should she swallow her anger? Before she died, couldn't she be reckless just once?

"You wretch! Hit her again! Her mouth this time! Slap her until she can't say another word!"

The women of the Inner Palace really were twisted.

When Zhu Bafu was thrown back into her cell after the punishment, only her eyes could still open, and barely at that. She was sure she looked like a swollen pig's head.

"From today on, I'll come deal with you every day, right up until the day you're sent to your death!"

Noble Consort Pan left that threat behind and swept away with her eunuchs and palace maids. Zhu Bafu lay on the floor like a dead fish, utterly unable to move. Only when Noble Consort Pan