The murderous tone made Meng Guqing’s heart skip. Seeing him turn to leave, she quickly grabbed his sleeve. “Where are you going?”
“To settle this for you,” he said coldly. What, were they blind? This delicate flower he cherished, whom he pampered and adored, and they wanted to send her into the palace? What did they take her for? What did they take him for? In this world, no one could take her away from him.
Meng Guqing had been frustrated with Madam Yu’s attitude, not only had she dismissed her supposed “merchant” background, she hadn’t even respected her wishes. But she hadn’t been angry, just mildly irritated. After all, why let the words of someone unimportant spoil her mood? She wasn’t trying to stop Xiao Shuo out of mercy, she simply knew he was a man who never measured his actions by ordinary limits. His idea of “venting” could easily ruin someone’s life.
So she cautiously asked, “And… how exactly do you plan to do that?”
“Didn’t she want to offer women to the emperor?” His smile was icy. “Why send anyone else? She’d do nicely herself. I’ll be generous and help her along, straight onto the Dragon Bed.”
Meng Guqing’s mind went blank for a second. Madam Yu was nearly fifty, plump and plain-looking, with grown grandchildren. If she were suddenly “gifted” to the emperor, even if she weren’t executed on suspicion of being an assassin, she’d still suffer a fate worse than death. Annoying as she was, she didn’t deserve that.
Meng Guqing quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, stopping him. “Don’t. Please. Your father’s health is already poor; if you toss a live woman into his bed and he drops dead from the shock, wouldn’t that be terrible?”
“Terrible?” he sneered. “Wouldn’t that be better?”
The way he said it, calm, almost amused, chilled her. It wasn’t that he lacked a conscience; he simply didn’t recognize the concept. Compared to the ruthless monster he could be, the way he treated her was like a spring breeze. And realizing that she’d actually thought of him as “gentle”, it made her feel a little sick. She shoved away the faint sympathy rising in her chest and said firmly, “You’re not going. If you must do something, make it minor, a little scare, nothing serious.”
Her idea of a “minor punishment” was something like slipping a bit of croton powder into Madam Yu’s meal, a quick case of diarrhea to keep her too busy to meddle. Or maybe sabotaging her carriage so she’d take a small tumble, enough to break a bone and stay bedridden for a few months. No more social calls, no more schemes.
Meng Guqing spoke with a straight face, seriously proposing harmless tricks to a man who’d once killed without blinking. Xiao Shuo, staring at her soft red lips moving as she talked, felt his heart melting. He leaned down, kissed her, and said with teasing delight, “Don’t go around telling people you’re my wife. They’d die laughing.”
Meng Guqing froze. “What? You think I’m embarrassing?”
No, she was adorable. So adorable he just wanted to hold her, drown in her warmth and scent. He didn’t want to admit how deeply she’d ensnared him. He knew she had once feared him, treated him politely, but with distance. He hated that feeling, that they came from different worlds.
A creature born from blood and mud refused to believe in purity, and his instinct was to taint what was clean, to drag her into his darkness so she’d belong to him completely. He’d wanted to make her like him.
But when she killed for the first time and fell into guilt and sickness over it, all his cruel impulses died in silence. What replaced them was pain, and helpless tenderness. Holding her burning body, listening to her cry in his arms, he had felt a panic so sharp it shook him.
On the surface, he’d trapped her at his side, but in truth, it was he who was the prisoner.
And what secrets could a prisoner keep? He wanted to bare everything, the truest, darkest parts of himself and be accepted by her.
Xiao Shuo looked down into her eyes for a long moment, then turned away to the table, picked up a small dagger, and began to polish it. His tone was calm, but his words pierced through the air: “Do you think my heart is rotten to the core, that I’ve done too many evil things, so you don’t want to be with me?”
Why was he turning it around on her now? If she supposedly didn’t want to be with him then who had been the one forced into marriage? Who was the one living in his house right now, sleeping every night in his arms?
Meng Guqing was a little puzzled. Since when had this man, who was usually so direct and practical, who only cared about results, become… how should she put it? “Anxious and brooding” didn’t quite fit, nor did “melancholy and sentimental.” Yet here he was, wiping his dagger, turning his cup over and over in his hand, those small, restless movements people make when they’re nervous and don’t even realize it.
Could it be that… he actually cared about what she thought of him now? Hadn’t he always been the arrogant, untouchable sort? The thought made her almost want to laugh out loud, but she stopped herself; if he misunderstood her laughter, that’d be trouble. Still, she couldn’t lie either. So she said frankly: “Does your own conscience feel good to you?”
He’d forced a woman into marriage, planned to seize the throne by killing his own father and he wanted to talk about conscience? Honestly, anyone who thought that counted as a clean conscience would drown in other people’s spit.
“I feel pretty good about it,” he said.
The sharp lines of his face were drawn tight now, his once-relaxed gaze turning sharp and focused. The hand holding the dagger started to withdraw, only for a pair of soft, warm hands to gently cover it. Her voice was calm, soothing: “As long as you think it’s fine, that’s what matters. A person’s character is shaped by their past and everything they’ve been through. If I’d lived your life, I can’t promise I’d have much of a conscience either.”
It wasn’t that Meng Guqing was blindly trying to comfort him, she genuinely believed it. Xiao Shuo hadn’t grown up in any kind of normal environment; how could anyone expect a healthy heart to sprout from such barren soil? Of course, that didn’t mean she approved of him solving problems by killing people. So she quickly added, “But from now on, when something like this happens, could you ask me first? Maybe if we think it through together, we’ll find a better way.”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?” he said. If it had been before, Madam Yu would’ve already been lying on the emperor’s bed in the palace.
“Oh, so you came back to discuss it with me, not just inform me?” Meng Guqing smiled sweetly.
That sweetness seemed to travel, straight from her lips into his chest, filling him up until he could hardly breathe. He turned his hand over, clasped hers, and said, half-complaining, half-amused, “You’re too kind for your own good. I can’t imagine how your family raised someone like you and then had the nerve to send you into the palace.”
And as he thought that, him with no conscience, her with too much, he suddenly found the idea oddly comforting. Maybe his missing conscience had been given to her in a past life. Maybe that was why they’d met, why they were together now. It was a foolish, sentimental notion, the kind of romantic nonsense he’d normally scoff at but it made his head feel hot, and he said, pretending to be serious, “As long as those people stop bothering you, I won’t do anything more.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “I could’ve handled this myself, actually.”
She could tell that Madam Yu’s scheming had started with her own ideabut as a household matron, she definitely would’ve informed her husband, that court official. He probably already knew Meng Guqing existed and might even be plotting something himself. That part was tricky.
But instead of responding to her analysis, Xiao Shuo suddenly asked, “Do you like this house?”
“It’s fine,” she said. “Quiet but not remote, spacious and bright. Not as grand as the palace, but honestly nicer than my old home.”
“I’ve got a few more residences,” he said casually, “all kinds of styles.”
“…?”
“All in the capital. Two are quite close to here. If you don’t want to deal with those people, you can move to another one, switch every month if you like.”
“…”
Meng Guqing thought he was joking or at least exaggerating. Who on earth bought a dozen houses just to rotate through them?
But the next day, when he actually took time to show her around, she couldn’t question him anymore. “Man of action” really wasn’t an exaggeration, he had bought over ten properties and did plan to rotate living in them monthly.
Was that really how rich people spent money?
And the most outrageous part was that every house had “Meng Residence” written above the gate. All the deeds were bundled in a rosewood box, which he casually handed to her, calling them “part of the betrothal gifts.”
Holding that box felt like holding a hot coal. After that, she didn’t even have the mind to work on her winery plans, she first had to figure out what to do with so much real estate. He’d just left them sitting there all this time, saying nothing, what a waste!
Still, even with so many houses, she didn’t know what to do right away. Renting them out seemed best; they were mostly residential but Xiao Shuo didn’t like the idea. He genuinely meant for her to live in them. If she didn’t, he said, they’d just stay empty. “It’s fine,” he told her, all nonchalance and arrogance, “I don’t need the money.”
It was enough to make her grind her teeth.
So she turned the tables: what about his men? From what little she’d seen, he had at least a hundred elite fighters at his side, not even counting the ones hidden in his mysterious organization. And now he seemed to be training new secret guards. But no matter what kind of people they were, they still needed food, drink, and a place to live. Why leave all those houses empty while his people were crammed together somewhere?
“That’s not your concern,” he said. “The organization’s well-structured. Everyone has their duties. Logistics aren’t a problem.”
But hadn’t he said he was “reforming”? If he wasn’t killing and looting anymore, where did the money come from? Meng Guqing was curious, not only for his sake, but because she needed to understand the power he held. Their current situation was… precarious, and she didn’t like being kept in the dark. But he never let her near that side of things.
Still, if he wouldn’t tell her, maybe she could see for herself someday. And as it happened, that day came sooner than expected.
The next morning, when she woke up, there were two unfamiliar girls in her room, both under twenty, with ordinary faces but a sharp, disciplined aura. Soldiers, by the look of them. Meng Guqing had a guess. “What’s this about?”
“You wanted to know more, didn’t you?” he said. “They came from there. They’ll stay with you from now on. Both are skilled, you can trust them.”
So they were bodyguards. Meng Guqing was secretly delighted. After seeing him off, she called the two girls over for a talk, though mostly it was Xiangyue and Chunyue asking the questions while she listened.
But the more they heard, the heavier the mood grew. The two girls didn’t even have real names, only numbers, Sixteen and Seventeen. They didn’t know their age, their family, or where they were from. Since childhood, all they’d known was training. Poor Xiangyue was nearly in tears.
Meng Guqing couldn’t help feeling pity. “Do you have any names you like? If you do, tell me. From now on, you can use those names since we’ll be living together for a long time.”
Both girls shook their heads, confused why these maids were so emotional. What was there to cry about? Everyone in their organization came from hardship or loss; they’d been taken in, fed, clothed, trained. That was already more than enough. And now, to be chosen for this assignment, to live in a nice house, eat white rice, and serve a gentle mistress, it was practically heaven.
Names? Who needed those?
Meng Guqing had met plenty of athletes before, straightforward people, not much on complex thought. These two were probably the same: simple, pure, wholly focused on their training. Compared to Xiao Shuo, they were like blank sheets of paper.
So, based on their wish to “always have enough to eat and wear,” she named them Xiao Gu (Little Grain) and Xiao Li (Little Chestnut).
Xiangyue clapped her hands in delight. “Perfect, symbol of abundance and harvest! Common, yet essential. It suits them.”
She cheerfully led the two new girls away. “Come on, I’ll show you the lady’s wine cellar. We can all work together from now on!”
Xiao Gu and Xiao Li didn’t move at first, still looking to Meng Guqing for confirmation. Only when she nodded did they follow. Watching them go, she couldn’t help but admire their discipline. Deadly loyal, just as she thought.
In this kind of feudal world, if all they wished for was a full belly and warm clothes, she could grant that easily enough.
Now she had people, money, and property. Meng Guqing was ready to make something big happen.
But before she could, Grand Marshal Wang Xiao passed away, Emperor Yuwen Tai’s health declined sharply and then came shocking news from the capital: The lost son of the former Empress Xiao had been found!
They said the emperor’s illness had left the harem bleak and quiet. Out of lingering affection, the deposed Empress Xiao had asked to go to the royal temple near the imperial tombs to pray for forty-nine days. Perhaps her sincerity moved heaven itself because while attending the ritual, she spotted her own son among the onlookers!
The story spread like wildfire. The details varied wildly: each version more dramatic than the last, full of twists and turns that could put any popular romance novel to shame. Soon everyone was talking about it: Empress Xiao had found her son, and the Zhou dynasty finally had an heir again!
As for the boy’s legitimacy—anyone who saw him had no doubt. He looked so much like both Empress Xiao and Emperor Yuwen Tai that no blood test was needed. His features were a perfect blend of theirs; too perfect, really.
Meng Guqing didn’t know exactly how Xiao Shuo himself was handling the sudden storm around him, but as an observer, she could see clearly enough. She’d heard enough of the rumors; it was time to check in on the man at the center of them.
When he returned one day, dusty from travel, she poured him a cup of cool tea and smiled. “So, are things settled in the palace?”
He nodded, downed the tea in one gulp. “Pretty much. There wasn’t much to arrange. I went in today, saw His Majesty and my mother. We verified everything in front of the royal clan and ministers.”
Even if no one needed to prick their fingers for proof, the ritual still mattered. Meng Guqing nodded, but seeing his lack of enthusiasm, asked gently, “There must still be some who don’t believe you. Did anyone give you trouble?”
The Wang family, she thought, must be the biggest obstacle. Empress Xiao’s restoration benefited everyone except them. It had been Wang Da who orchestrated the Empress’s downfall years ago, crudely but effectively and she was now sure to face resentment for it.
She could already picture the treacherous politics of the court. Xiao Shuo, used to his simple and direct way of life, would find it difficult to navigate that world of deceit. She was worrying for him—
—but the man she worried about just snorted, his tone arrogant as ever: “Them? What could they possibly do to me? I dealt with Wang Xiao myself. You think I’d fear those small fry? If I couldn’t handle that, I might as well not come back.”
Once again he was taking the nonviolent, noncooperative route, and Meng Guqing couldn’t do a thing about it. She couldn’t help saying, “You’re a prince now, future emperor, even. What emperor goes around killing people just because he’s violent and cruel?” Of course, history had seen plenty of tyrants who delighted in slaughter, but those were foolish rulers, hardly role models. At the very least, she didn’t want the man lying beside her to turn into a ruthless, bloodthirsty monster. Otherwise, she’d never be able to sleep soundly at night.
“Those who commit too many wrongs will destroy themselves.” In her view, the Wang family had already ruined their reputation over the past few decades. When Wang Xiao’s funeral procession passed, only officials turned out to curry favor; in the capital’s alleys, countless commoners cheered that justice had been served. What Xiao Shuo needed to do now, she thought, was simply to sit back and let things take their course.
But he had a different opinion. “I was thinking.. if we settle everything here quickly, maybe we can go travel for a while. Didn’t you say before that you wanted to live quietly outside the city for a couple of years?”
His words really touched her. When had they started thinking from each other’s point of view like this? She worried about his future and his throne, while he quietly remembered the kind of life she longed for and both of them were making efforts toward what the other wanted. It left her feeling dazed, but then she realized wasn’t this exactly the kind of relationship she had hoped for? It seemed he was gradually erasing all the bad impressions she’d had of him. She didn’t want to admit she was moved but such feelings don’t vanish just because you deny them.
She pressed her lips together and said softly, “You actually remember what I said back then.”
“I have a good memory. I remember a lot of what you’ve said. It’s just you…. you never seem to care about me at all.” There was a faint trace of dissatisfaction in his tone at the unfairness of it, but somehow, that seemed to be just the way things were between them.
“That’s not true,” Meng Guqing retorted, though when she thought about it carefully, she realized she really hadn’t done much for him. Since arriving in the capital, she had been absorbed in her own interests. As for how he regained his title, reconnected with Empress Xiao, and planned to ascend the throne, she knew none of it. Perhaps she had been a little too carefree.
Xiao Shuo, though, was only teasing her; there really wasn’t anything she could do to help. And as for himself, beyond keeping a clear grasp of the general situation, he couldn’t personally handle everything either. Most matters were manageable, even Emperor Yuwen Tai. Outwardly, Xiao Shuo could address him as “Royal Father” with perfect composure, yet in his heart that man no longer existed.
Only Empress Xiao, his mother, now nearly blind, was an exception. Every time he met her, his emotions threatened to slip beyond his control. Aside from the woman in his arms, she was the second person in the world who left him unsure of how to act.
He had long since lost all childhood memories; the concept of “mother” barely existed for him. Yet in front of Empress Xiao, it was as if they had never been apart. She would take his hand, stroke his face, and weep as she spoke of the past. His instinctive aversion to being touched had been broken several times over and what could he do with this woman who showed him only love and kindness?
Ever since he’d met the person now in his arms, it was as if all the qualities that made him a perfect killer, his coldness, numbness, and detachment, had started to erode bit by bit. If his master could see him now, he’d probably leap from his coffin in fury. After all, Xiao Shuo had once been his most prized disciple, the one “most suited to being an assassin.” And yet here he was, stolen and transformed halfway down the road.
Still, he no longer needed to live by the blade. If this was “falling,” then so be it. All he wanted was to hold the person in his arms and live that quiet life she’d dreamed of. So how could he ever blame her for being too leisurely? He rubbed his head against her shoulder and murmured, “Just stay home and wait for me to come back, that’s the biggest help you could give me. I don’t need you to do anything else.”
Although Xiao Shuo said there was nothing she needed to do and as his wife she couldn’t exactly go out forging alliances, Meng Guqing still cared about his affairs. At the very least, when she heard that his mother had gone blind after years of crying in grief, she rummaged through her memory for a few prescriptions to treat and nourish the eyes, copied them out carefully, and asked him to deliver them to the Empress.
Empress Xiao, truth be told, was a pitiable woman. Born a princess, she had married a foolish, lecherous emperor. Her first son had been born premature, and all these years she’d had only one daughter by her side. To protect her youngest son, she’d been forced to live apart from him for over a decade, suffering humiliation and abuse at the hands of the Wang sisters in the harem. Her life had been bitter beyond words. Out of sympathy and perhaps a touch of affection for Xiao Shuo, Meng Guqing couldn’t help but care about her condition.
What she hadn’t expected, however, was that Xiao Shuo really did keep her like a caged songbird, never mentioning her existence to the outside world. Until one day, the prescription she’d written reached Empress Xiao’s hands. With Xiao Shuo’s growing renown, the Empress finally learned that the son who had lived among commoners for more than ten years was now married. Not with a concubine, but married. And the son who was still distant and reserved even toward his mother had spoken of his wife openly, with clear affection in his voice.
Holding the prescription for eye medicine sent by her new daughter-in-law, Empress Xiao felt torn. She had originally planned to marry her son to the Grand Tutor Liu Yuan’s granddaughter, a match that would have brought immense advantage to them both. But now? What was she supposed to do?
Meng Guqing, for her part, had no idea that Xiao Shuo had so bluntly presented her prescription to Empress Xiao. When the imperial summons arrived, she was utterly dumbfounded.
