Chapter 51: Joy from Dawn to Dusk

She was a great demon, one who fancied herself experienced and worldly, yet she could never quite fathom the family of the surname You. They knew she was born of strange origins, a danger in itself, and yet spared no effort to protect her life.

Was it because the blood flowing in her veins still bore the mark of the You family?

But she was a demon; born with little attachment to kin, she was not deeply moved and never grew the desire to bond with them as family. She... simply found it difficult to accept their kindness.

Yes, that was all. They gave her cause, so naturally she would return them consequence.

Thus she would not "die," but "live."

Whenever she thought of sharing a bed with the King again, a satisfied smile would blossom on her cherry lips.

She could only aid them, and when the snake handlers summoned serpents and pythons, she stoked the fire further. Without that night’s wind and sand, in broad daylight, only a host of flower-patterned snakes as thick as infants’ arms would have appeared. Their sheer number frightened the onlookers.

This species, when gathered together, even without aggression, inspires fear at a glance.

Beneath the woodpile, the colorful flower snakes twisted and swayed, each raising its head and puffing its chest at the snake handlers like well-trained soldiers. Daidai laughed gleefully at her distant kin, finding them utterly adorable. Yet the crowd looked as if a fishbone had caught in their throats—ashen-faced, disgusted, most fleeing in terror.

Daidai watched with a beaming smile, neither angry nor indignant, her gaze pure and guileless.

You Wuxue, seeing this, was stunned and sighed deeply. How could his sister’s eyes be so clean—cleaner than an infant’s? Yet upon closer inspection, the purity in her eyes wasn’t the ignorance of a child.

An infant’s innocence springs from unawareness, but Daidai’s purity seemed born of... clarity.

Yes, clarity.

Monks and nuns achieve enlightenment to cultivate virtue, viewing worldly troubles as illusions and casting them aside for the sake of all beings. Daidai’s understanding, however, was forged within the world itself—greed, anger, and delusion passing through her body, leaving no trace.

For a moment, You Wuxue felt fear—could it be that Daidai, disheartened, wished to retreat from the mortal realm?

At that moment, Daidai stood up, her watery eyes curving like crescent moons. She smiled and shouted toward the king standing atop the city gate, “King, I won’t die! I still want to sleep with you. You must kiss me and hold me!”

The girl’s tender cry, so unabashedly revealing her heart, with her unrestrained manner, shamed the passersby, prompting the You sons to cover their faces with their sleeves. Only Ji Ye’s lips slowly curled into a lotus-like smile.

You Wuxue quickly covered Daidai’s mouth, veins bulging on his forehead, and scolded in a low voice, “You rascal, shut up!”

Daidai muffled a few sounds, looked at You Wuxue, and smiled—a warmth in her smile that infected others. You Wuxue coughed lightly and couldn’t help but smile himself. Seizing the moment, he loudly declared, “Do you still believe my sister is a demon? If the ability to summon snakes makes one a monster, then our Great Yan Dynasty is full of monsters. Not to mention all the provinces, just around the capital there are countless folk experts with this skill—are they all demons? If you insist on burning my sister, go ahead, but you’d have to burn all the snake handlers too.”

Since Ji Ye took power and established a serpent court in the palace, the fondness for snakes spread below. From nobles to commoners, anyone with a bit of courage kept a snake for amusement. If taken seriously, half the people in Great Yan would have to be burned—most of them robust men.

Hidden among the crowd, Hui Feng saw the moment was right and suddenly unclenched his fist. The man behind him immediately spoke, “Rumors kill—who is so cruel as to want to burn the Empress to death?”

Then, ten men over on Hui Feng’s right, a burly man shouted, “No more burning! Damn it, who started this rumor? If I find out, I’ll skin them alive!”

A hundred men further behind Hui Feng chimed in, “Let’s go home. What nonsense is this?”

“Exactly, who did the Empress offend to end up being burned?”

“Who knows? Hey, it’s just like those stories told in the teahouse—royal affairs are always complicated. We ordinary folks shouldn’t meddle. Let’s go.”

“Brother, don’t you feel like we’ve been played?”

“How so?”

“I heard a story in the teahouse yesterday—an evil consort schemed to become Empress and framed the current one. Maybe our Empress was set up by such a villain?”

“You make sense. Hey, what’s that story? Which teahouse? I’ll listen when I have time.”

The crowd gradually dispersed, their chatter carried by the wind throughout the capital. Some said the Empress was framed; some believed she might truly be a demon. Yet public opinion no longer targeted Daidai so fiercely.

Words are fearsome, impossible to block but possible to redirect; the You family had won half the battle.

On the city gate, the Noble Consort’s face was pale, knowing the tide had turned. She hurriedly paid her respects and left, supported by her attendants.

Ji Ye stood quietly for a while before descending the city wall. The filth upon the Empress was half washed away; though spared from death, she could not pretend nothing had happened.

You Wu ordered the snake handlers to clear the flower snakes from the ground, then assisted Lady Xing and several sisters-in-law from the carriage.

“Daidai,” standing below the woodpile, You Jiang's face was stern, yet he slowly opened his arms.

Daidai howled and leapt from the tall woodpile into You Jiang’s embrace, knocking him backward several steps, eliciting cries of alarm from Lady Xing.

Hui Feng smiled and supported his father’s waist from behind, admonishing Daidai, “What do you look like?”

“Father?” Nestled in You Jiang’s arms, Daidai lifted her eyelids and called tentatively.

You Jiang’s eyes reddened; he blinked several times and answered softly.

“Father.” Hugging You Jiang’s waist, Daidai called again.

“Mm.” Though father and daughter, propriety must be observed; You Jiang loosened his hold, but Daidai clung tighter, gleefully shouting, “Father, father, father…”

You Jiang’s dark face grew hot, silent but his bright eyes grew even sharper.

You Wu pursed his lips, jealous, and said, “You heartless thing, have you forgotten your sixth brother?”

Hui Feng was the legitimate son, bearing the family’s responsibility. Though unable to speak for Daidai as Wuxue did, he loved her just as dearly. He was known for his steadiness and maturity, and even now, his excitement was kept in check.

“Father, the imperial carriage is here.” Looking aside, Hui Feng’s face darkened.

“King.” Forgetting her family, Daidai let go and ran to Ji Ye.

You Jiang snorted, jealousy rising between father and son.

Lady Xing coughed several times to bring them back to reality, then bowed with her daughters-in-law. You Jiang and his sons followed suit.

“Rise.”

By now, Daidai had climbed onto the imperial carriage, sitting beside Ji Ye.

“Loyal King, take your sons home. I will decide this matter myself,” the emperor said.

“May Your Majesty be merciful,” You Jiang replied hoarsely after a long silence.

The You family knew well: once inside the palace gates, Daidai’s fate belonged to the royals.

Ji Ye nodded, raised his hand, and the carriage lifted, returning to the palace.

This farcical scene ended in absurdity beneath the mocking sun.

The scheme failed, the villain lived, and in her palace, the Noble Consort shattered porcelain in rage. As Lady Kang entered, her painted eyes arched, and she said lightly, “Someone, clean this up.”

“Mother, I can’t stand letting her get away with this. She stole what’s mine for years. If she doesn’t die, I’ll be sickened by her forever.” Seeing her mother arrive, she stopped her tantrum and sat angrily on the couch.

“Fool. Though you didn’t burn her, she can never rest easy in the harem now. Since ancient times, no Empress with a ruined reputation could remain wealthy—she’ll die a violent death or be sent to the cold palace. Just wait, You Daidai won’t end well.”

The Noble Consort’s anger faded and she grew pleased, “Ah, why didn’t I think of this? Yes, a disgraced Empress, one branded a monster—even if the emperor wishes to protect her, the ministers won’t allow it. You Daidai’s fate is certain.”

With this thought, she straightened and laughed heartily.

Lady Kang laughed as well, patting Lü Xiangjun’s hand, “We suppressed You Daidai without effort. I suspect the Virtuous Consort deserves credit. She must wield great influence to command the palace guards and have them speak for her.”

Lü Xiangjun was puzzled, “Mother, you don’t know—after that night, the palace went mad and many died. I find it frightening. The Virtuous Consort is so ruthless, yet silent.”

Lady Kang frowned, “Have you found any clues as to how she framed the Empress?”

Lü Xiangjun shook her head, clenched her fists, and said angrily, “Mother, I believe the Virtuous Consort is the real monster. Why else would so many keep her secrets? I arrested some who were there that night, tortured them, and guess what? They refused to tell the truth, only slandered You Daidai as a demon. That’s the terrifying part—what virtue or power makes them loyal unto death?”

She shuddered with rage, pounding the carved armrest, her eyes fierce, “With her fake kindness, those servants must be blinded with greed. All wretches! They should all die!”

After cursing, her strength faded. She slumped on the cane pillow, panting, “Mother, I want to be Empress. I must be Empress. You promised me since childhood. Now, after so many years in the palace, I’m still just Noble Consort. Mother, I don’t care. Find a way—I must be Empress, as you always promised!”

Lady Kang grew angry at her impatience, wishing she could remake her daughter. After several deep breaths, she stood calmly, “Enough. Whatever I promised, I’ve always kept. I promise you: the throne will be yours. For now, stay away from the emperor; don’t irritate him.”

“As if I want to see his icy face,” Lü Xiangjun sneered, “If not for the throne, I wouldn’t bother. He’s the emperor; I was raised spoiled. If not for the Empress’s seat, I’d never try to please him.”

She curled her lips disdainfully, “Compared to King Ning, Ji Ye isn’t worth a strand of hair.”

Lady Kang angrily slapped her, pointing at her forehead, “I told you from the start to sweet-talk him, to love him. If you’d shown patience and won his heart, there wouldn’t be a Virtuous Consort, and you’d be Empress. You have only yourself to blame!”

Lü Xiangjun muttered regretfully, sitting up, “But I can’t stand his cold face. In a room together, I never hear him utter a sound.”

Lady Kang sneered, “Why didn’t you say so earlier? If I’d known, I would’ve made your sister Empress. I know your heart well—you don’t really dislike the emperor, but you see yourself too highly. You think he’s like those useless sons of ruined families, always circling you, pleasing you, obeying your every whim. Dream on!”

Lü Xiangjun grew angry, glaring back, “If only Lü Xiangfen was born from your womb. I know, if I had a true sister, you’d never care for me. My temper? I got it from you. Don’t think I don’t know—when you were my age, you were even worse. My little aunt died, father’s concubine died…”

“Slap!” Lady Kang struck her, trembling with rage, “Ungrateful child! Don’t expect my help. Want to be Empress? Dream on!”

The beautiful lady’s anger twisted her face into something monstrous; servants stood silent, motionless like dust.

Lü Xiangjun’s temper was fierce; she wailed loudly, her cries echoing through the palace. Thankfully she was so domineering, no lesser consorts lived there—otherwise, the Lü family’s disgrace would be known throughout the capital.

In the outskirts, atop Mount Fallen Phoenix, the royals had a Taoist temple. The gate plaque was inscribed by the first emperor of Great Yan, named Repentance. Within, the priestesses were of noble birth—princesses, ladies, wives—sent there for their misdeeds.

Compared to being sent to the cold palace, the You family secured this chance for Daidai: she would become a priestess at Repentance Temple, hair bound, accompanied by four loyal ladies.

Everyone knew this outcome except Daidai herself, who slept peacefully in Ganquan Palace, smiling.

Aside from Qiuyun and the other four, all eunuchs and maids had departed Ganquan Palace. The stone paths were littered with fallen petals, untouched. Dust coated the railings, and beneath the eaves, a red spider swung on its web. Qiuyun stood on the veranda, smiling.

“We can finally leave this cursed place,” said Chunmo, emerging from the house and brushing her skirt.

“Yes, we’re finally leaving.”

“I want to eat stinky tofu from the market,” said Xiaji, carrying several bundles. A vivid red scar ran from her forehead to chin, ugly yet her bright smile covered much of its flaw.

A window was pushed open, and Dongcang frowned, “Why are you all standing around? Get to work.”

Qiuyun smiled and nodded, “I’ll pack Miss’s jewelry and dresses.”

“I’ll check the storeroom for her dowry. When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter; we’ve been gone a while—who knows what’s left?” Chunmo said heavily.

“No one would dare touch Miss’s dowry. I’ll go with you—your fingers are too swollen to handle the paintings.” Dongcang closed the window and came out.

The four ladies busied themselves, but Daidai showed no sign of waking, having slept since returning from the execution ground.

On a summer afternoon, cicadas sang from the green leaves, their incessant cries making Ganquan Palace seem even more deserted.

The palace door was ajar when he entered, dressed in moon-white robes, even Li Fuquan forbidden to follow.

He gazed at the scene of decay and fallen petals, remembering how laughter once echoed from Ganquan Palace’s gates; now, it was bleak and silent.

He needed no guide, as if his eyes could pierce all things, staring toward where Daidai slept, unconsciously quickening his pace.

Through thick walls, a vision surfaced: a valley of blooming peonies, clear water flowing past blue stones, and a drunken dark-green serpent coiled, snoring.

Snakes cannot cry, yet this one wept in its sleep.

If that dream was so sorrowful, why not wake? Yet he saw satisfaction on the serpent’s face—an intoxicating, unrepentant contentment.

What manner of dream was this, to make such a foolish serpent so blissful?

He should not know the answer, yet his heart brimmed with joy and ache. At first, it was only a speck of dust, but over time, it became a thorn, piercing deeper, until now, removing it would mean unbearable pain.

“Who am I? Who am I, really?”

He sat beside Daidai, gazing at her sleeping face and murmuring.

“King, you’re here.” Without opening her eyes, her smile bloomed, and she snuggled to him, her black hair cascading over his legs.

“What did you mean that night? Am I not myself? Did Mother birth me a twin brother?”

Daidai burrowed into his arms, inhaling his comforting scent and slowly opened her eyes, smiling, “I know who you are. You are my king, the one I can kiss and embrace. King, I missed you—kiss me, hold me.”

She wore only a thin nightdress; as she twisted playfully in his arms, the hem gathered at her waist, revealing her slender, smooth legs and the flow of spring.

This was her desire, the man at the depth of her longing. Whenever she held him, her heart surged, wishing to entwine endlessly, to fall into the abyss with him.

“Are you so desperate? Seeing me, all you want is pleasure!” He suddenly tossed Daidai onto the bed, stood, and shouted in anger.

Her hair fell over her face, and any ordinary woman would have covered her face and wept in shame, but Daidai was a demon; her skin was thick as ten lifetimes.

“You dare laugh? You Daidai, behave yourself!”

Daidai smoothed her tangled hair, unconcerned, “It’s only pleasure, why be angry? If you don’t want me, then leave. Hmph.”

“Fine.” Laughing in exasperation, he turned to go.

Watching his resolute departure, her smile faded, replaced by bitterness and yearning.

Her voice drifted, forlorn, her gaze dull, “King, I can stop seeking pleasure.”

The hot sunlight spilled through green window screens, and after he left, the pearl curtain swayed wildly, chiming. She lay down again, ready to sleep, to sink into thoughtless darkness.

She disliked thinking, never tracing events to their roots; she only wished to drink and be merry, to indulge while she could, for everyone else had their fate—only she had none. She and her king were always fated for nothing.

Before dreaming, she gazed hopefully toward the door, longing for him to return.

Was it a trick of her eye? He truly returned!

She sat up with a jolt, joy blooming in her heart, “King!”

“Daidai, will you drink a pot of wine with me?” He approached, wine in hand, his tone indulgent.

How could Daidai refuse? She nodded eagerly. Even if the wine were poison, she would drink it without hesitation.

Author’s Note: For the first and second.

Ever since I started this story, my headaches have been on and off—recently, they worsened suddenly. When tinnitus appeared, I panicked and went to the hospital. Fortunately, it wasn’t serious; the doctor prescribed lots of medicine and advised rest.

The medicine was expensive, but it worked well. After taking it, my mind cleared up a lot.

I stopped working temporarily and rested at home for several days before feeling better.

Just a simple update for everyone.

The rest, I’ll make up for with new chapters.

Thank you to everyone who has always supported and never abandoned me.