20demayo Chapter 223 Your Majesty, should we continue to punish this lowly servant?
Chapter 223 Your Majesty, should we continue to punish this lowly servant?
The next day, at 3:45 AM.
Before dawn, a hazy gray-white light already filtered through the window.
Zhao Qingxue was awakened by a faint sound, like the distant sound of a river.
The voice was very soft; at first, she thought it was a dream.
But when she slowly opened her eyes, the sound disappeared, replaced by a warmth she had never experienced before.
She shifted slightly, her body sinking into a soft fabric that carried an unfamiliar scent.
It was that moon-white robe.
It was still wrapped around her, the soft fabric clinging to her skin like a warm cocoon.
Zhao Qingxue lay there in a daze for a moment, her gaze falling on the unfamiliar Chengchen above her head.
My mind is blank.
Then, memories flooded back like a tide—
Zuixianju (Drunken Immortal Abode)
He was suspended under the crossbeam.
Hongjie's hand was severed at the root.
Blood gushed out.
The severed hand twitched on the ground.
and also--
Qin Mu draped the robe over her shoulders and said softly, "Let's leave it at that for tonight."
Zhao Qingxue slowly sat up.
The moon-white robe slipped off his shoulders, revealing the tattered dress underneath.
The torn pieces of cloth barely covered their bodies, and the exposed skin still bore the marks of the torture they had endured the previous night.
The marks on my wrists, the bruises on my shoulder joints, and the redness and swelling on my cheeks that haven't completely subsided.
She raised her hand and gently touched her face.
My fingertips touched the slightly swollen skin, and a faint stinging sensation came through.
Not a dream.
It's all true.
Zhao Qingxue lowered her head and looked at the moon-white robe she was wearing.
Her slender fingers gently caressed the soft fabric, its touch as smooth and warm as jade, carrying a faint ambergris scent that didn't belong to her.
She slept in this robe all night last night.
Stable.
Comfortable.
No nightmares.
They didn't wake up.
They didn't even get to turn over.
I curled up like that and slept from last night until this morning.
This realization stirred up a complex and indescribable emotion within her.
She hadn't slept so soundly in a very, very long time.
During her five years on the throne, she reviewed memorials almost every night until late at night. When she was tired, she would rest on her desk for a while and never had a real "sleep".
Later, as he began to plan and strategize, he became even more sleepless, waking up at the slightest disturbance.
But last night—
Inside the robe of the man she hated to the core.
In the "gift" of the man who had just tormented her to the point of wishing she were dead.
She slept very soundly.
Zhao Qingxue closed her eyes.
A sense of absurdity welled up inside me.
What is she doing?
Thank him?
Grateful for the peaceful night he gave me?
No.
No.
She suddenly opened her eyes.
The momentary daze in those deep purple phoenix eyes quickly faded, replaced by a cold clarity.
She cannot waver.
Absolutely not.
Everything that happened last night was his doing.
That long robe, those words, that peaceful sleep—
They were all traps he had meticulously designed.
That was all to make her feel this absurd gratitude, this ridiculous wavering.
If she takes it seriously, it will play right into his hands.
Zhao Qingxue took a deep breath.
Suppress all those complex emotions deep within your heart.
She slowly stood up.
The moon-white robe slipped off her body and piled up on the couch.
She looked down at the robe, watching the soft fabric gleam with a warm luster in the morning light.
He hesitated for a moment.
Then she bent down and picked up the robe.
Fold it gently.
Place it beside the tatami mat.
The movements were slow and gentle.
It was as if some kind of ritual was being performed.
Then she turned around and faced the closed door.
She knew he would come soon.
really.
A moment later, footsteps sounded outside the door.
It's very light and very stable.
Then, with a creak, the door was pushed open.
Morning light streamed in through the doorway, illuminating the entire room.
Qin Mu stood at the doorway, his back to the light.
Today he changed into a dark blue robe, with dark silver flowing cloud patterns embroidered on the collar and cuffs. The jade belt around his waist was tied loosely, making him look even more lazy and casual.
Her long hair was still loosely tied up with a single jade hairpin, with a few stray strands falling across her forehead, gleaming faintly in the morning light.
His gaze immediately fell on Zhao Qingxue.
It landed on that face, which was still slightly red and swollen, but no longer pale.
The light fell upon that figure, dressed in tattered clothes, yet still standing tall with his back straight.
It landed on the neatly folded moon-white robe beside the couch.
A half-smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
"Awake?" he asked.
His voice was languid, with a hint of hoarseness from just waking up.
Zhao Qingxue did not speak.
She just watched him quietly.
There was no gratitude, no anger, no superfluous emotion in those deep purple phoenix eyes.
There was only a cold, calm silence.
Looking at her like this, Qin Mu was not disappointed at all; instead, the smile in his eyes deepened.
He stepped into the room.
He walked up to her and stopped.
They were very close, close enough that Zhao Qingxue could smell the faint ambergris scent on him.
He reached out and gently lifted her chin.
This forced her to look up at him.
The movement was very light, yet it carried an air of undeniable authority.
Zhao Qingxue's body stiffened slightly, but she did not struggle.
She simply met his gaze calmly with her cold phoenix eyes.
Qin Mu looked at the calmness in her eyes and smiled gently.
"You're recovering well," he said. "Did you sleep well last night?"
Zhao Qingxue did not answer.
Qin Mu didn't care.
He released his grip, turned around, and walked towards the door.
He took two steps and then stopped.
He glanced back at her.
"Let's go," he said, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the weather. "It's another day's journey before we head back to the palace."
After saying that, he stepped out of the room.
A pale white figure flashed at the doorway and disappeared into the morning light of the corridor.
Zhao Qingxue stood there, staring at the open door.
I watched the figure disappear.
There was still no emotion in those deep purple phoenix eyes.
There was only a cold, calm silence.
A moment later, she moved.
I took a step and walked towards the door.
The steps were steady and slow.
His back was ramrod straight.
.......
The carriage remained parked in a secluded spot in the backyard of Zuixianju.
The morning light shone on the carriage, casting long shadows on the bluestone pavement.
The two fine horses pulling the cart snorted and their tails swished gently.
Liu Bai was already sitting on the carriage shaft.
He was still wearing that old gray Taoist robe, his beard and hair were gray, and his face was thin.
His cloudy old eyes were slightly narrowed, as if he were dozing off.
But when Zhao Qingxue appeared at the backyard gate, her eyes suddenly opened a crack.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment, then closed again.
They didn't say anything.
Xiao Yu was already standing next to the carriage.
Today she was wearing a new blue cloth dress, her hair was neatly combed and tied up with a wooden hairpin.
Her cheeks were rosy, whether from the morning light or something else, I don't know.
When she saw Zhao Qingxue, a complex emotion flashed in her eyes.
There was sympathy, awe, and a hint of cautious...fear.
She quickly lowered her head, not daring to look any further.
Yunluan was still dressed in a dark blue outfit, her long hair neatly tied into a high ponytail.
She stood on the other side of the carriage, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her cold gaze sweeping over her surroundings.
Upon seeing Zhao Qingxue, her gaze lingered on her face for a moment before shifting away.
He had no expression whatsoever.
There was another figure.
They huddled in a corner of the back of the carriage.
Sister Hong.
Today she was wearing a dark red dress, the color of which was similar to blood, making her pale face even more terrifying.
Her right wrist was wrapped in thick gauze, and a faint yellow liquid was seeping through the gauze, which was the trace of tissue fluid seeping from the wound.
That hand is gone.
It was cut off cleanly at the wrist, leaving only a blunt, gauze-wrapped stump.
She huddled in the corner, her eyes fixed on the moon-white figure walking from the backyard gate.
His gaze was filled with deep-seated hatred.
The hatred was so intense it almost solidified, surging in his eyes like a venomous snake.
Her left hand gripped the wooden strip on the side of the vehicle tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force.
is her.
It's that lowly maid.
She is the one who made herself disabled.
She traded her body for her hand.
It was her—
Hongjie's lips trembled slightly, and the hatred in her eyes grew even stronger.
Zhao Qingxue walked to the carriage and stopped.
Her gaze fell on Sister Hong.
It landed on the severed wrist wrapped in gauze, and on that pale face filled with hatred.
There was still no emotion in those deep purple phoenix eyes.
There was no triumph, no relief, no fear.
There was only a cold, calm silence.
When Sister Hong met that gaze, the hatred in her heart almost exploded.
She sat up abruptly, opened her mouth, as if to say something—
"Little Red".
A lazy voice came from inside the carriage.
Hongjie's body suddenly stiffened.
She turned her head and looked at the carriage.
The carriage curtain was lifted, and Qin Mu leaned against the carriage wall, resting his chin on his hand, looking at her with a half-smile.
His gaze was indifferent, as indifferent as if he were looking at an ant.
"What do you want to say?" he asked.
The voice was gentle, yet it sent a chill down Hongjie's spine.
She opened her mouth, and a gurgling sound came from her throat, like someone was being choked.
In the end, nothing was said.
He simply lowered his head and curled up back in the corner.
His body trembled slightly.
Qin Mu withdrew his gaze and turned it to Zhao Qingxue.
"Get in the car," he said.
Zhao Qingxue did not speak.
She lifted her foot and stepped onto the carriage pedal.
The movements were steady and slow.
Those small, thin old shoes made a soft "tap" sound as they stepped on the wooden board.
She climbed into the carriage and sat down near the door.
It's still the same spot.
The most uncomfortable position.
The position closest to the car door.
His back was ramrod straight.
His gaze was fixed on the scenery outside the car window, empty and calm.
Xiao Yu then got into the car, still curled up in the corner, shrinking herself into a tiny ball.
Yunluan was the last to board the carriage, sitting in the innermost window seat, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze sweeping coldly across the carriage.
Sister Hong huddled in the corner, motionless.
Only those eyes would occasionally lift up and fall on Zhao Qingxue.
That gaze was as cold as a venomous snake.
Qin Mu leaned against the carriage wall, his gaze sweeping over the four people in the carriage.
Finally, it fell on Xiaoyu.
"Xiao Yu," he called out.
Xiao Yu trembled and quickly raised her head.
"Your Majesty, Your Majesty..."
Qin Mu patted the spot beside him.
"Come here," he said, "and give me a shoulder massage."
Xiao Yu's face turned red instantly.
She quickly got up, crawled on her knees to Qin Mu's side, and knelt down.
Her slender fingers carefully rested on Qin Mu's shoulder.
Begin gently massaging.
The movements were light and slow, with a kind of awkward gentleness.
Qin Mu leaned against the car wall, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the girl's service.
The carriage shuddered slightly and slowly started moving.
The wheels rolled over the bluestone pavement, making a dull "gurgling" sound.
Morning light streamed in through the gaps in the carriage curtains, casting dappled shadows inside.
Hongjie's gaze swept over Xiaoyu.
My gaze swept over that flushed face, those slightly trembling fingers, those lowered eyelids.
Then it fell on Zhao Qingxue.
It landed on that face, which was still slightly red and swollen, yet remained calm.
It fell on that tattered dress, on the bruised skin exposed through the tears.
A glint of resentment flashed in her eyes.
Then, she moved.
She slowly straightened up and moved closer to Zhao Qingxue.
The movements were slow and gentle, as if the posture had been adjusted unconsciously.
But his gaze never left Zhao Qingxue.
Zhao Qingxue sensed that gaze.
She didn't turn around, she didn't move.
He simply kept staring out the window, his gaze empty and calm.
Sister Hong moved closer to her and stopped.
They were very close, close enough that Zhao Qingxue could smell the mixture of blood and ointment on her body.
Sister Hong looked at her.
Looking at that profile.
Hatred surged in those eyes.
She opened her mouth and whispered in Zhao Qingxue's ear in a very soft, low voice:
"Bad maid."
"You wait."
The sound was like the hiss of a venomous snake, carrying a deep-seated malice.
Zhao Qingxue's eyelashes trembled slightly.
She didn't turn around, and she didn't say anything.
However, a very faint, almost imperceptible chill flashed in those deep purple phoenix eyes.
The chill flashed by.
It happened so fast that almost no one noticed.
Sister Hong didn't miss it.
Seeing that coldness, a more intense hatred welled up in her heart.
You dare glare at her?
How dare you look at her like that?
What gives her the right?
A prisoner, a lowly servant girl hung from a beam and slapped in the face, someone who traded her body for one of her hands—
Why do you dare to look at her like that?
Hongjie's left hand clenched tightly.
A sharp pain shot through the wound on her severed wrist, instantly bringing her back to her senses.
She looked down at her empty right wrist.
Looking at the gauze-wrapped remains.
Hatred surged up again.
Beyond the hatred, there was also a trace of inexplicable unease.
last night……
What happened last night?
After her hand was cut off, she was dragged to the next room to be bandaged and never got to get close to that private room again.
When she woke up this morning, all she knew was that His Majesty and this woman had spent the night together in one room.
But after spending the night there, is this woman still the prisoner who can be humiliated at will?
Has Your Majesty...?
Did you touch her?
Is there...?
Hongjie's gaze swept back and forth over Zhao Qingxue.
The other person's calm face, those distant eyes, that seemingly indifferent expression—
It's such an eyesore.
Hongjie took a deep breath, turned her head, and looked at Qin Mu, who was leaning against the car wall.
Qin Mu had his eyes closed, and Xiao Yu was kneeling behind him, her slender fingers gently pressing on his shoulders.
The morning light shone on his face, outlining his sharply defined features.
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, a half-smile that conveyed an indescribable languor and contentment.
Seeing his appearance, Sister Hong's unease lessened somewhat.
His Majesty is in a good mood.
If you're in a good mood, then it's easier to talk to you.
Sister Hong carefully shifted her body to get closer to Qin Mu.
Then she spoke, her voice carrying a deliberate hint of flattery and probing:
"His Majesty--"
Qin Mu's eyelids twitched slightly, but he didn't say anything.
Sister Hong continued, glancing at Zhao Qingxue:
"Should we... teach this disobedient, lowly servant girl a lesson again?"