The four guards were horrifically injured, a sight that greatly impacted Ji Xue’s mood. Her movements grew increasingly erratic, and Qing Yao landed a blow, then followed up with five claw-like fingers, aiming directly for Ji Xue’s throat, coldly stating, “Ji Xue, today is your death day.”
But just then, a soft strand of heavenly silk was tossed from mid-air, firmly binding her arm and rendering her unable to move.
Seizing this crucial moment, Ji Xue abruptly struck out with a palm, hitting Qing Yao directly in the chest. No one had expected such a sudden turn of events.
Unable to withstand the impact, Qing Yao staggered back two steps, her mouth filling with a cloying sweetness. Her figure swayed, but she managed to steady herself, only to see the heavenly silk, cold and unfeeling, wrapped around her arm.
Even without exerted force, the silk, merely tossed gently, was made of soft jade. Its sharpness, fine as silver threads, sliced Qing Yao’s arm. Blood welled out, trickling down her slender limb, appearing like a thin red line against the silk, starkly clear and eye-catching.
Mo Chou and Mo You stared in stunned silence. As they recovered, they rushed to their mistress’s side, supporting her.
Mo Chou cried out in anger, “Young Master Wuqing, what are you doing? You’ll get our mistress killed! What exactly are you doing? Our mistress hasn’t been able to eat or sleep properly lately, yet you’re helping this woman, giving her a chance to injure Miss. She’s here to kill us!”
As Mo Chou’s words fell, Wuqing’s face turned deathly pale, his eyes filled with an inexpressible darkness. He spoke softly, his voice devoid of strength.
“Qing Yao, she is my twin sister.”
In the darkness of night, his voice boomed. Qing Yao looked at him, understanding his predicament. She gave a slight tug at her lips, smiling faintly, “I don’t blame you.”
She spoke, but her heart felt a chilling coldness that stole her breath.
The sweet taste in her mouth grew stronger, but she forced herself to endure it, refusing to appear vulnerable.
Ji Xue had struck with all her might, seizing the perfect opportunity. Qing Yao smiled faintly, her expression consistently detached. Yet, from her fingertips to the depths of her heart, a chilling cold permeated. If she hadn’t suppressed it, she believed a tear would have fallen at that moment.
Wuqing gazed at her from afar, a feeling of world-destroying devastation washing over him. He didn't understand why, in that split second, he had acted to stop her from killing Ji Xue.
Though she was his sister, they had never known of his existence, instead constantly opposing him. Qing Yao, however, was different; she had always warmed his heart. With her, he was happy. Yet, in that instant, he had wrapped her arm with heavenly silk.
What he hadn’t anticipated was Ji Xue’s forceful counter-attack. The blood slowly seeping from her lips was like enchanted blood flowers blooming in the dark night, staining his pupils with an overwhelming red. Beyond red, there was no other color.
Qing Feng and Ming Yue behind him gaped, speechless for a long time.
Ji Xue, on the other hand, who had landed the successful blow, spoke abruptly after her initial shock, “Wuqing, what are you saying? You are my elder brother? How is that possible? Aren’t you the nephew of the Empress Consort?”
Hearing Ji Xue’s words, Wuqing suddenly threw his head back and laughed. The shock he had endured tonight was too great, rendering him unable to contain his wild laughter, showing no signs of stopping.
Wuqing Valley echoed with his piercing laughter, carrying far and wide. Everyone stared blankly at the scene, unsure how to blame him. He was the most tormented, after all.
“I am his nephew,” Wuqing said, his laughter subsiding. His face suddenly turned cold and stern, his deep black eyes unfathomable. His chilling, thin voice rang out, “Pitiable me, clearly a son, yet I became his nephew. This is truly laughable. Since he abandoned me that day, what claim does he have as a nephew of the family now?”
Ji Xue’s face was one of disbelief, then a sudden realization dawned. Pointing at Wuqing, she spoke word by word.
“So, the one born to the Empress Consort that day wasn’t Empress Ji Feng, but you, Wuqing. This is because Mother Emperor, besides favoring the Empress Consort, also doted on my father’s consort. Mother Emperor said that whoever gave birth to a daughter would be made the Crown Princess. The Empress Consort, fearing she would become a mere concubine, employed a scheme to swap the phoenix for the dragon, smuggling you out of the palace. Empress Ji Feng then entered the palace. What a twist of fate!”
Ji Xue also began to laugh, though her laughter was filled with mockery and derision.
Recalling the hardships she had suffered in her youth, she realized that the true Crown Princess should have been her. What was Ji Feng? Merely a product of a stolen dragon and phoenix. She had even been wrongly accused of killing her sister and usurping the throne. In reality, the throne was rightfully hers.
The angrier Ji Xue became, the darker and more incomprehensible her expression grew. She shot Wuqing a cold glare, waved her hand, and with her four guards following, commanded sternly, “Go.”
Two people supported one injured guard, and they followed the Crown Princess out of Wuqing Valley.
In the vast space, Wuqing’s charming, cold voice rang out, “Qing Feng, starting tomorrow, seal off that secret passage. No one is allowed to enter anymore.”
Qing Yao listened to his words and chuckled faintly. So, there was such a thing as a secret passage. How many more things did she not know about him?
“Yes, Young Master.”
Qing Feng acknowledged the order. Mo Chou reached out to support Qing Yao, speaking slowly, “Mistress, let’s go back. You’re injured.”
“Qing Yao?” Wuqing’s voice held an uncontrollable tremor. He was so afraid, so afraid she would be angry, afraid she would turn and leave. But she was injured, and it was indeed because of him.
Qing Yao turned around, smiling faintly, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine. I just need to rest and recover.”
“Let me take your pulse,” Wuqing said softly, rolling his wheelchair to approach, but Qing Yao shook her head, refusing. “I’m really fine. I can recuperate on my own.”
With that, she turned and led Mo Chou and Mo You up the stone steps, returning to her room.
Outside the long corridor, at the foot of the stone steps, the figure seated in the wheelchair was so desolate and lonely, like a phantom no one dared to approach.
The next morning, Qing Yao woke up. She had suffered internal injuries last night. Although she had meditated briefly, due to mental exhaustion, she appeared completely listless. Her face was pale and unsightly, and she leaned weakly against the bed, wanting nothing, doing nothing. She slightly closed her long eyelashes, hiding eyes that should have been radiant.
Mo Chou walked in, her face etched with reluctance. She opened her mouth, wanting to speak, but dared not.
Sighing inwardly, she thought, what a tragedy. Why must they suffer like this? One anguished within their room, the other outside – weren’t they just tormenting each other?
Young Master Wuqing had been waiting outside since midnight and had not left. Although Mo Chou had been furious earlier, seeing him like this made it impossible to harbor any resentment.
He was also not well, still afflicted by the curse, appearing ethereal and otherworldly, like a banished immortal about to depart the mortal realm.
The room was quiet. Mo Chou knew her mistress wasn’t truly angry with Young Master Wuqing, but rather because her heart felt heavy. She had sustained internal injuries and hadn’t slept well last night, appearing utterly drained, as if struck by a serious illness.
Xiao Yu’er came in from outside, her voice preceding her arrival, “Mother, what’s going on? Young Master Wuqing?”
Her small body darted in. Upon seeing Qing Yao on the bed, her face pale, lips slightly dark, and her entire being seemingly ill, she cried out in alarm, “Mother, what’s wrong?”
Qing Yao opened her eyes, a faint smile touching her lips. She said softly, “It’s nothing.”
Indeed, she was mostly fine. The internal injuries had improved after her meditation, but her heart felt heavy, making her unwilling to speak. That feeling of desolate sorrow had truly enveloped her, making her not want to move at all.