These words suited Supervisor Pei’s intentions perfectly, making him laugh: “You’re sensible. This servant remembers you. In the future if there’s opportunity, I’ll definitely promote you.”
Bao Shu picked up the embroidered piece for a closer look and couldn’t help glancing at Qun Qing. The amazement, displeasure, and wariness in her gaze scraped across her face like a blade edge.
Qun Qing lowered her eyes but could still sense the emotions in that gaze. It seemed to say: Such a beautiful thing was actually embroidered by such an ordinary maid—heaven is truly blind.
Yet Bao Shu put that piece down, avoiding her rash-covered fingers, and took away the other silk tree flower piece. To Supervisor Pei she said: “Her embroidery skill is too exquisite—this servant can’t match it. This one looks more like something I’d embroider. Thanks.”
“Send these nine for selection then.” Supervisor Pei urged.
“But the roster lists ten people.” Nanny Zhang looked at Qun Qing with reluctance. “Why not have the physician…”
“Don’t delay any longer—go right now!”
Nanny Zhang had no choice but to lead those palace maids away.
Their silhouettes against the backdrop of towering palace halls were like a flock of geese flying west.
Qun Qing turned in the opposite direction, returning to the low, dilapidated Lateral Courts—
Qun Qing locked the door with one hand while loosening her chignon with the other.
Her hair was thick and coarse. Released from constraint, it instantly cascaded down. The simple, low chamber had been ransacked into disarray. When Supervisor Pei’s subordinates retrieved the embroidered pieces, they should have simultaneously ruled out suspicion of her midnight tryst.
Cloth towels hung haphazardly on bamboo strips. Qun Qing casually grabbed one to dry her damp hair. Relying on vague memories, she returned jars and baskets to their places, even fiddled twice with the torn window paper. Her mind replayed and reconstructed today’s events:
That night, Hui Xiang and the young guard had a tryst in the bamboo grove. Hui Xiang suddenly thought of the nearby quarters belonging to her, Qun Qing, and fearing she might see something, tiptoed to confirm through the window whether she was sleeping soundly—only to unexpectedly see through the window crack that she wasn’t on the bed.
Hui Xiang had always suspected she’d seen something, feeling uneasy. Today seeing Supervisor Pei question her, she was frightened into making false accusations first.
Qun Qing removed her damp skirt. Suppressing the itch, she reached into her collar and pulled out a small strip of cotton cloth, placing it on the cabinet. The red rash on her arms slowly faded.
The cotton cloth was sewn from two layers—the front was cotton, the reverse covered with crushed spring vine seed juice. Usually sewn into sleeves, when necessary she could flip it over and rub it on her arm to quickly make herself break out in hives.
The two noble masters selecting palace maids today—one was Crown Prince’s Good Companion Zheng Zhiyi, the other was Princess Bao’an. If Qun Qing had followed Nanny Zhang to Luanyi Pavilion, Yang Fu would immediately select her to her side for mutual dependence and tearful embraces.
Qun Qing couldn’t see Yang Fu yet.
She feared that seeing that face, she’d lose emotional control and interrogate the other party, exposing herself. She had no choice but this desperate measure.
Besides, her mind was in complete chaos—she needed time to organize her thoughts.
Qun Qing slowly changed into dry clothes, then rolled up her sleeves and reached into the water vat, fishing out a pitch-black box hidden at the bottom.
The bottles and jars in the box were medicines and poison pills she’d brought from her empty home, plus an embroidered sachet. The sachet was embroidered with a ram’s head, four tiny bells hanging from the ram’s horns.
Qun Qing was born in the Year of the Goat. In childhood, Zhu Ying had sewn this little plaything to amuse her. The sachet felt solid in her palm. Shaking it produced a familiar light chiming that confirmed: she’d truly returned to the first year of Shenglin.
This year, Emperor Chenming Li Feng usurped the throne, establishing the state name Da Chen. The original Chu State’s Crown Prince Zhao, unable to withstand the Li family army’s offensive, fled all the way to Huai’an. With help from accompanying loyalist officials and ministers, he occupied the southern nine provinces, establishing “Nan Chu State” in north-south confrontation with Da Chen.
This year, with the new dynasty just established and affairs numerous, Emperor Chenming’s eldest and third sons—the Crown Prince and Prince Yan—were busy with political matters and hadn’t yet begun fratricidal strife.
Yang Fu hadn’t yet married the Crown Prince.
She was still a newly-entered small spy who hadn’t yet infiltrated Yang Fu’s side.
This year, Nan Chu’s Crown Prince Zhao mobilized all spies remaining in Chang’an, sparing no effort to create destruction for Da Chen, harboring dreams of one day destroying Chen, restoring the state, and killing their way back to Chang’an.
Thinking of this, Qun Qing held her breath, opened the sachet, removed the hidden “Lovesickness Lure” poison pill to seal in the box, then hurriedly wore the empty sachet close to her body.
In the previous life, she’d directed her blade outward, giving everything for the worthless Crown Prince Zhao and Princess Bao’an. The result naturally wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t find Mother’s whereabouts. Only at the moment of death did she know how deep her regret and remorse ran.
Given the chance to live again, she must find a way to locate Mother and live for herself.
At the bottom of the box was a notebook.
Seeing it recorded Lu Huating, Qun Qing immediately threw it into the brazier.
The fire leaped up instantly, devouring the pages. Orange light illuminated her feverish cheeks.
Qun Qing sat on the ground hugging her knees, as if again feeling phantom pain from the wound. In her mind surfaced that heart-stopping confrontation with Lu Huating. Strange heat perspiration seeped from her temples.
Strangely, having experienced Princess Bao’an’s betrayal, her originally bone-deep years of hatred toward Lu Huating instead slowly dissipated like cloud and smoke along with the collapse of her position.
He merely fulfilled his duty as a strategist.
But this person was also truly rare in the world for being difficult and terrifying.
Since she was no longer pursuing national restoration, in this life she mustn’t provoke this person. Avoiding him would eliminate most of life’s dangers and torments.
Having made this decision, there was still one urgent matter to handle.
Qun Qing picked up wound medicine, then retrieved a key from beneath a bamboo frame, twisted open the north storehouse door, and carefully slipped inside.
Qun Qing could count well, able to remember silk quantities without paper and brush. Quite trusted by Nanny Zhang, she was assigned to manage the north storehouse. Her chamber was originally the north storehouse manager’s residence. Precisely because of this, she’d gained the opportunity to live alone.
Qun Qing walked bent between stacked cloth bolts, reaching a spot where she moved aside indigo cloth and knocked on the ground four times—not too heavy, not too light. Then she laboriously shifted aside a hidden brick.
Beneath it sprawled a man in light blue official robes, his collar stained with blood.