Qiao Shuqin-You're courting death!

Behind the rockery, a figure in plain white stood hidden among the jagged shadows of the rocks.

Qiao Shuqin stood there, watching the picture-perfect couple not far away. Her nails dug deep into her palms, and the handkerchief she clutched was crumpled into a ball.

What a pair of immortal lovers.

She sneered inwardly, but her smile was full of bitterness and hatred.

Qiao Shuyi, it hasn't even been seven days since my mother died.

How can you smile so happily? How can you and Zhigui be so happy together?

You're happy and blessed-

What about me?

The hand clutching her handkerchief trembled slightly, her knuckles white.

Tired from her stroll, Qiao Shuyi took Zongzheng Heng by the hand and brought him to a pavilion in the garden.

She reclined on a lounge chair, eyes closed, basking in the languid sunlight. Her skirts spread out like a flower in full bloom, and her face wore the serenity of a peaceful life.

Zongzheng Heng leaned against the railing, one hand propping up his chin, his gaze traveling past the spring scenery filling the garden to the distant towers with their upturned eaves and interlocking brackets.

He had long since taken in the luxury of the Prince of Jin'an's Manor and committed it to memory.

Yet his gaze kept drifting back to her.

These days, as long as he didn't make her angry, things were actually... pleasantly easy for a change.

There were no scheming and power struggles at court, no insincere flattery, and no endless memorials to review.

Each day, he did little more than admire flowers, compose poetry, ride horses, play pitch-pot, and occasionally watch her go a little mad, only to be forced to tell her he liked her a few times.

If she weren't Qiao Nanyu's daughter...

The thought suddenly crossed his mind, and he immediately found it absurd.

If she weren't Qiao Nanyu's daughter, why would he have come to Jinzhou? How would he have met her?

Still...

When the Prince of Jin'an's Manor fell, perhaps he could spare her life.

But what then?

He looked at her and actually began to consider the matter seriously.

Now that the two of them were so intimate, he had long since come to regard her as his woman.

Since she was his woman, she naturally ought to enter the palace.

But her temperament-

Zongzheng Heng frowned slightly.

She couldn't bear the slightest grievance.

In the manor, she was the legitimate daughter, the precious pearl Qiao Nanyu held in his palm. She had whatever she wanted and did as she pleased.

If she entered the palace as a commoner, wouldn't the daughters of high officials and the consorts with powerful backing swallow her whole, skin and bones?

Could she accept that?

Then... keep her outside the palace?

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind before he suddenly froze.

Why was he thinking about this?

Why... didn't he want her to suffer?

He lowered his eyes to the hand gripping the railing.

He had yet to pay her back for the humiliations she had inflicted on him.

To make her fall from the clouds, to bring her down from above others to beneath them, to let her taste what it was like to be trampled underfoot-

Wasn't that the best way to torment her?

He looked at her peaceful face, his gaze turning cold, bit by bit.

When the time comes, I will torment her myself.

Qiao Shuyi lay with her eyes closed, her face gentle and serene. The lounge chair rocked gently beneath her, creaking softly.

Fuzhi stood beside her, gently waving a round fan and sending her waves of cool air.

Zongzheng Heng looked at her and couldn't help marveling.

Was there anyone in this world who had lived better than she had these past dozen-odd years?

Even his eldest imperial brother, the late emperor's favorite, had lived in the finest palace and used the most precious things as a child, but Zongzheng Heng had seen all too clearly how much calculation and how many conditions were mixed into that affection.

His eldest imperial brother had never known such pure, unrestrained freedom either.

And what about her?

She didn't have to think about anything or compete for anything.

Whatever she wanted, someone would bring it to her; whatever she wanted to do, someone would pave the way for her.

Even something as outrageous as abducting a man and bringing him back to the manor took no more than a word from her.

He looked up at the sky. The sun had begun to slant westward, and he judged it was almost time.

"Shushu, I'm going to change my clothes. I'll be back shortly."

Qiao Shuyi didn't open her eyes, merely nodding slightly.

Zongzheng Heng turned and walked away along the path.

After he left, Qiao Shuyi slowly opened her eyes and watched his retreating figure, her gaze deep and inscrutable.

Change his clothes.

He certainly knew how to choose his words.

In Great Zhang, members of the imperial family and nobility generally called going to the toilet "changing clothes." Scholars and officials called it "using the toilet," while commoners said "going to the latrine" or "relieving themselves."

He had said it so casually that he probably hadn't even noticed how those words, long since etched into his very bones, had betrayed his identity.

As for the name "Zhigui"-

A gui was a ceremonial jade tablet held by emperors and feudal lords during court visits and sacrificial rites, a symbol of power and an emblem of status.

By taking such a courtesy name for himself, he had laid his towering ambitions bare for all to see.

Or did Zongzheng Heng think her ignorant of letters and incapable of thinking that far?

Qiao Shuyi's lips curved slightly, and she slowly closed her eyes again.

Zongzheng Heng hurried along the path, his steps brisk.

He wasn't going to change his clothes.

Near the end of the yin hour today, the Cold Owl Guard was due to bring him the antidote.

The Power-Dissolving Powder had sealed all his inner strength, leaving him as helpless as a cripple in the manor.

Once he had the antidote and recovered his inner strength, coupled with the trust Qiao Shuyi had placed in him these past days, where in the entire Prince of Jin'an's Manor would he be unable to go?

And aside from the account books in the accounting room, there was another place that held evidence of the Prince of Jin'an's wrongdoing: his study.

There were bound to be more things hidden there.

Secret letters exchanged with various factions, plans devised with his trusted advisers, even detailed accounts of the troops he maintained-most likely, drafts of those were locked away in there too.

Qiao Nanyu was conceited and accustomed to keeping everything under his control. A man like that would not have failed to keep records.

But outside the study, hidden guards kept watch day and night, with sentries both visible and concealed, layer upon layer.

To slip inside without alerting anyone, he would have to-recover his martial arts.

Zongzheng Heng swept along as if wind were beneath his feet. He passed through a moon gate and was about to turn into the passage leading to the west courtyard-

Just as he passed a side room of the pharmacy, its door was suddenly flung open from within.

A maid hurried out carrying a wooden basin filled with finely ground medicinal powder, a mass of white.

She stumbled, and the entire basinful of powder came pouring down over Zongzheng Heng's head.

Caught off guard, Zongzheng Heng coughed violently twice as the powder choked him. He hastily covered his mouth and nose, but it was already too late.

The fine powder had worked its way in everywhere, and he had already inhaled most of it.

The maid bowed repeatedly.

"Please forgive me, young master! I didn't mean to. This servant deserves to die-"

Zongzheng Heng waved a hand and hurriedly shook the powder from his clothes, saying nothing more.

He couldn't afford to waste time.

He had to reach the back gate as quickly as possible, collect the antidote, and hurry back to the garden.

If he was gone too long, Qiao Shuyi, with her temperament, would surely grow suspicious.

He started walking.

But after only a few steps, his feet felt as though they were treading on cotton, unsteady and weak.

A heavy dizziness spread from the back of his head. The scenery before his eyes gradually blurred, and it was as though the sinews and bones had been pulled from his limbs. He was so weak he could barely keep from collapsing.

He braced himself against the wall, gasping for breath as cold sweat poured down his forehead.

That powder just now... what was it?

He clenched his teeth and tried to make a fist, only to find he no longer had the strength even for that.

He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes for a moment, then forced them open again.

I can't fall.

I have to-

The sound of light, measured footsteps came from around the corner.

Zongzheng Heng raised his eyes and saw a figure in plain white step gracefully into view.

Qiao Shuqin.

She stood before him, the corners of her lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile.

Zongzheng Heng looked at her, his gaze turning cold.

"What are you trying to do?"

Qiao Shuqin gave a soft laugh, tinged with chilling satisfaction.

"What am I trying to do? You'll know soon enough."

She tipped her chin toward the space behind her, and a burly servant stepped out of the shadows. He seized Zongzheng Heng by the arm and dragged him into an empty room nearby.

Zongzheng Heng had no strength left in his body and couldn't even struggle.

Only his eyes remained open, staring fixedly at Qiao Shuqin with a murderous chill.

Qiao Shuqin paid him no attention. She followed at an unhurried pace and casually pulled the door shut behind her.

She looked down at Zongzheng Heng, slumped on the floor, and at his eyes, still as cold and sharp as knives even in such a predicament. Suddenly, she gave a soft sigh.

"Young Master Zhigui, the way you look at me is truly frightening."

"Unfortunately, you can't move now."

Zongzheng Heng said nothing.

He merely stared at her, dark malice churning in his eyes.

Qiao Shuqin wasn't angry.

She walked unhurriedly to the table, drew a stick of incense from her sleeve, and lit it with the candle flame.

A wisp of smoke curled upward, carrying a cloying sweetness that was hard to describe.

The servant propped Zongzheng Heng up on the couch, then bowed and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

Zongzheng Heng lay sprawled on the couch, struggling even to lift a finger.

Yet for some reason, a burning heat in his chest grew stronger and stronger, and his breathing gradually quickened.

He jerked his head to the side and fixed his eyes on the burning stick of incense on the table, his gaze dark and menacing.

That incense-there's something wrong with it.

Qiao Shuqin turned and walked toward him.

One step, two steps, three steps.

As she walked, she raised her hands and untied the sash at her waist.

Her outer robe slipped off, revealing the goose-yellow undergarment beneath.

Zongzheng Heng's pupils contracted sharply.

He ground his back teeth, veins bulging along his jaw.

"Qiao Shuqin-you're courting death!"