A Femme Fatale and a Treacherous Minister

Rouzhu was the bewitching consort who reigned supreme among the six palaces, a notorious femme fatale.

For three years, she threw her weight around in the imperial palace. At last, she single-handedly defeated the Empress, who came from a distinguished family, and coaxed the Emperor into issuing an edict to depose her. The Empress was banished to the Cold Palace, never to leave again.

The Empress's heart died. She ended her life in a raging fire.

Half a month later, her elder brother, Cui Shunqin, the current military governor of Youzhou, came to gather her remains.

The man wore plain white robes. His features were cool and composed, as cold as fresh snow atop Yanshan. As he stepped into Hanyuan Hall, he cast Rouzhu a look that cut to the bone.

Old grudges and new hatred tangled in their gazes. Rouzhu lowered her eyes with a smile, plucked a cherry with her jade-white fingers, and fed it to the Emperor.

In less than a year, the Cui family mobilized the troops of three garrisons and joined forces with the Wang family in rebellion, their blades pointed straight at the imperial capital.

The throne changed hands, and the palace grounds became a purgatory of flames. The Emperor fled in haste, remembering to take along the beauty he truly loved, but leaving Rouzhu behind to bear the grave charge of having thrown the court into chaos and to die to appease public outrage.

In Hanyuan Hall, Rouzhu examined the jade cup of poisoned wine, then raised her head to drink.

Suddenly, a flash of swordlight swept past and shattered the cup.

Rouzhu looked up.

Cui Shunqin gazed down at her from on high. His eyes were still cold, filled with unconcealed hatred.

"You have yet to repay the debt owed to the Cui family, and you already wish to escape it all by dying, Your Highness?"

Rouzhu gave a faint smile. Oh, it seemed he had not realized who had secretly helped him ascend the throne.

The three years Rouzhu spent by Cui Shunqin's side were the years he hated her most, and loved her most.

After she had repaid the so-called debt, she resolutely drank the poisoned wine from three years ago.

In the moment before her consciousness sank into the deep sea, she saw him rushing toward her, grief-stricken and stumbling, just as desperate and frantic as he had been in his youth.

Rouzhu closed her eyes.

Whether he loved her or hated her, it no longer had anything to do with her, did it?

As he wished, they would owe each other nothing, strangers in life and death.

The familiar recipe, the same familiar flavor. My next serious work, a tale of love and hatred beneath a boundless sky, is making its dazzling entrance. It's a little angsty: in the early chapters, the Imperial Consort and the powerful minister circle and tug at each other; in the middle, it's the story of someone seeking revenge but unable to strike too hard; and in the end, there's a redemption arc. It can have a happy ending.

Theme: Seeing is believing