Chapter 52: Taking Lives (Part One)

On the floor, a cool pillow pressed against a thin blanket, and four shoes lay scattered in disarray. Upon the couch, a silver wine jug, adorned with entwining patterns, tipped over near Daidai’s hand. She had drunk more than half the strong liquor, yet her face remained unflushed, her heart steady. Meanwhile, Ji Ye, who sat cross-legged, was flushed with a rosy hue, his handsome features swaying drunkenly, his beauty unparalleled.

He was inebriated, but Daidai stayed clear-headed.

He did not know that Qingdai’s capacity for drink had been forged over time; once, when she was a fledgling serpent spirit, one cup would have sent her reeling.

“You little rascal, what a prodigious tolerance you have,” he said, pulling Daidai into his arms, his finger tracing her moist red lips. He was truly drunk, his star-bright eyes hazy, overflowing with boundless affection.

As Daidai rubbed the tip of his finger, she could not help but wonder: My king, in that lifetime you claimed to have transcended mortal love and resolutely departed to seek enlightenment atop Mount Sumeru. In the human world, I dreamed of you through nine lifetimes, each ending with your leaving, my obsession unresolved. Yet in this life, I see in your eyes indulgence, even reluctance to part.

My king, at last I see myself reflected in your gaze. Does this mean I have drawn you back into the sea of passion and regret, that you have abandoned your detachment from the world?

Or has it been, from beginning to end, that you never truly attained enlightenment?

My king, have I always been in your heart?

Gazing at this ephemeral figure before her, she felt tears well but could not cry.

My king, when will you give me the answer I seek?

My king, after nine lifetimes entwined with you, I am growing weary.

My king, have I ever told you that I have never regretted our encounter?

“Just you wait. Someone, bring more strong wine!” He shook the empty wine jug in annoyance and flung it aside, shouting loudly like a petulant child.

Daidai forced a laugh—dry, cold, and mocking—for even she could not be certain whether the man before her was a figment of her longing, or if he had always been this way.

But one thing she knew for sure: that king would never touch her body.

Yet this king would—and more than that, she could drive him to lose himself, to madness.

In this moment, their hearts were as one. He chuckled and gently lifted Daidai’s delicate chin, his smile sly, tinged with the decadent warmth of mortal life. “Without wine, I can still make you swoon.”

Daidai smiled foolishly back, her eyes bright, lips parted, pearly teeth revealed, the tip of her pink tongue peeking out—an unspoken invitation.

He shed his sarcasm, his gaze growing dazed, entranced by the allure of the beauty in his arms. What he saw was no mere lips and tongue, but a blooming poppy, revealing its most tender heart, casting its fragrance toward him.

That intoxicating sweetness was like the tumbling of the last flowers on the highest trellis—one whiff, and his soul melted, his bones dissolved, even his blood ran hot and wild.

Thus, he feasted on the flower, teased its crimson, and under his lips and tongue, the poppy began to sing its gentle, low melody.

It was the most primitive music—where passion leads, desire follows.

Above, he drank in her sweetness and scattered her fragrance; below, the iron spear entered the jade sheath, tilling the flower field in a frenzy, earth and sky overturned, white foam flying.

The couch, made of precious rosewood, noble and heavy, now began to creak with their movements.

The maiden’s pleas for mercy, mingled with his deep, seductive growls, intertwined and echoed for a long, long time.

She soared to bliss, yet her heart ached, tears blurring her vision; she struggled but could not see the shores beyond.

Let it be, then—let her faint away in his arms.

That, too, was a kind of happiness.

Nine lives and nine worlds, all her pursuit had been for but a single night with him. It was better than never touching him at all.

Consort Shu was truly ill—the shock of that night had been too great. Yet she was not one to give up; in the end, she would seek another way to achieve her goals. Knowing her own weaknesses, she always borrowed others’ strength, often leaving them grateful in return.

But Lü Xiangjun would never be grateful to her, for she knew well the cunning and deceit of this adversary. Yet seeing her rival grow so frail and pale in just a few days, she felt not only schadenfreude but also surprise.

The evening sunlight beneath the wisteria arbor had lost much of its heat, and even in the shade, a cool breeze drifted through.

“Sister, let’s speak frankly. The empress is already destined to be sent out of the palace; why bother throwing more dirt on her? That’s not like you. Weren’t you always the first to offer timely help and win favor? Now is the time to plead for her, not to condemn her.” Lü, the noble consort, sneered, eyes half-lidded as she watched her counterpart.

Consort Shu rose slowly, her movements languid, showing just how weak she truly was. “She is a demon. If you do not believe me, send someone to follow her escort out of the palace. If I am not mistaken, she will not quietly enter the Convent of Reflection to spend her days with incense and Buddha. Lü, she has come to collect a debt from His Majesty, and he is already bewitched by her—sooner or later, he will bring her back to the palace. I came today only out of consideration for our shared humanity, to warn you.”

With those words, she gave a bitter laugh. “I usually win nine times out of ten against people; I have never been afraid. But I cannot win against a demon. Lü, you—never mind. The ignorant are fearless.”

With that, the secret conversation ended. She left, dragging her frail body away, while Lü Xiangjun sat in place and fell into deep thought, fear stirring faintly in her heart. She quickly called, “Attend me!”

Night had fallen. The sky was pitch-black, for it was the first of the month; the crescent moon was a thin silver thread, its light dim and cold, and not a single star was visible—a sign that it would likely rain tomorrow.

On the ground, two palace lanterns glowed a bright yellow, making their slow way along a rugged mountain path. These were two processions that had left the palace after nightfall, banners and ceremonial guards in strict formation, embroidery still depicting phoenixes. Sadly, in the darkness, no one could see their grandeur.

A fallen phoenix is no match for a chicken—the one seated in the palanquin knew this well.

A chill wind swept through the mountains, bringing the cries of apes and roars of tigers, shadows flickering ghostlike. The elderly eunuch leading the way shivered and wrapped his thin robe tighter, pondering the emperor’s intentions.

He had seen with his own eyes the emperor carrying the unconscious empress into the phoenix palanquin, reluctant to let her go, entrusting him with her comfort. So, the empress was not yet entirely out of favor; perhaps she still had a chance to return to grace.

Could this dynasty produce another Yang Guifei? Could a priestess regain imperial favor?

He would have to weigh his actions carefully—for now, he would treat the empress well. If, in time, the emperor truly forgot her, he could change his conduct then.

The phoenix palanquin was large, furnished with a couch and a small table. On the bamboo mat knelt Qiuyun, Chunmo, Xiají, and Dongcang—the four who were still free to move about.

A palace lantern shaped like a narcissus lit the chamber brightly, making everyone’s features seem more delicate than by day. Daidai lay on the couch, a madder-red coverlet over her waist. The four attendants were silent until Daidai awoke.

Whenever she was far from him, she could always feel it. Perhaps it was because this was all a dream—she and he seemed tied by an invisible thread.

But that was what puzzled her most—whose dream was ever so real, a dream that could not be ended at will?

“Pour me a cup of water.” Perhaps overindulgence at noon had left her throat dry and her body weak.

At once, the four attendants sprang into action. Qiuyun brought her a cup of tea, Chunmo wrung a cool towel, Xiají found some pastries, Dongcang trimmed the lamp wick.

“Miss, are you feeling unwell? We’re on a mountain road, it’s rough going,” Qiuyun said.

“I’m fine. Stay quiet and let me think.”

The four nodded and fell silent.

At that moment, the birds in the forest suddenly burst into frantic cries. Shouts of attack and killing pierced the air. The phoenix palanquin rocked violently and crashed to the ground, sending Daidai and the others tumbling in disarray.

“Help—!”

The shrill cry was abruptly cut off, as if pierced by an arrow.

Daidai threw open the curtain and saw a flood of torches surging from all directions, murderous intent sweeping toward them.

“Brothers, kill the demon!”

“Miss, run!” Qiuyun was the first to react, grabbing Daidai’s hand to pull her away.

Daidai gave a cold, faint smile. “My reluctance to kill does not mean I do not dare to.”

At that, her face became suffused with demonic power. Her lips parted in a sibilant cry, incomprehensible to others. The imperial serpent that always accompanied her slithered to the roof of the palanquin, raising its triangular head to hiss in unison.

Author’s note: On the 3rd. Due to the internet purge, “Transmigration: I Became the Concubine” has been renamed “Wealth and Glory” and has been locked. Ladies, please remain calm; the unlock will come in due time. The original “War Madman in the Harem” has also been changed to “Essays.” Just letting you all know again.