#224: Extra #Four - Darkness (2)

The Lantern Festival had just passed, and Hualin Garden still hung with colorful lanterns. However, the lights in Chaori Pavilion and Xi Yue Pavilion had been extinguished, leaving them cloaked in darkness.

At this hour, Empress Dowager Fu Rong, who had long resided in Xi Yue Pavilion, had not yet retired. She sat alone by the window, gazing at the garden ablaze with lanterns and at Chaori Pavilion, whose lights would never shine again.

Staring at the darkened windows of Chaori Pavilion, she couldn’t help but recall the past—the late emperor.

Your Majesty…

She still remembered the hand he extended to her during the flower festival at Qingji Mountain. That day, after being publicly slapped by his sister, he came to her later. Little did she know back then that what she truly needed wasn’t to climb to the peak alongside him.

She agreed, and from that moment on, they became stepping stones for each other.

She gathered the Fu family’s power for him, found the blade sharp enough to kill Qi Yin, negotiated with the Han family… and did everything necessary.

For him.

And for herself.

They had come so close—so infinitely close—to reaching the pinnacle. Yet, in the end, it all fell apart.

He died.

Everyone said the late emperor wouldn’t have committed suicide if there had been any hope left.

He was murdered.

Murdered by Qi Yin.

“A gentleman in appearance, a demon in heart…” The world’s assessment was indeed correct. Qi Yin was a blade. He had already killed the late emperor. What would be his next move? Would he kill her son?

She couldn’t sit idly by.

She had to kill him.

She had endured and plotted for so long.

Did Qi Yin think that by making her son a puppet, she would simply watch as she was pushed out of the court by some unknown commoner family?

Absolutely not.

They would resist, fight, and drag anyone standing in their way into the abyss.

They wouldn’t let Qi Yin live in peace.

Her plans had culminated tonight! She would make Qi Yin pay for the late emperor’s death! Clear the path for her and her son!

Fu Rong’s hands trembled with excitement—whether from anticipation or fear, she couldn’t tell.

She waited… waited for her people to report back on the night’s events, which had descended into hell.

They came.

The cold night wind of Hualin Garden seeped through the window, unsettling her heart. Her long nails dug deeply into her flesh, while her eyes burned with fervent intensity—

The footsteps stopped—

The door opened—

She saw the visitor—

An unexpected, unwelcome guest.

Shen Xiling.

Over ten years ago.

Back then, she was still called Fang Yun. Yes, even back then, no one dared to offend her—not even Zhao’s brainless daughter.

She hadn’t exerted much effort before arriving here. Eventually, she became Qi Yin’s beloved, his precious treasure.

She bore many burdens. After countless days, she was thrust onto the political stage, where she publicly shattered the barriers Qi Yin had painstakingly built for her, dragging him down from his lofty perch.

Back then, she thought she had won. But she hadn’t anticipated that Shen Xiling would bear a son—a son who would soon take away everything that rightfully belonged to her own child…

And now… here she was, standing before her.

Fu Rong hadn’t seen Shen Xiling in over a decade. The memory of that orphan girl had grown hazy. She was uncertain—uncertain whether the child she had once easily driven out of the Qi family could now…

Could it be that she had lost?

In an instant, Fu Rong’s heart raced. Shen Xiling’s sudden arrival startled her. She didn’t know what it meant—had her plan succeeded? Was Qi Yin dead, and had she come to seek revenge? Or had her plan failed, and Qi Yin still lived?

Fu Rong’s thoughts churned, but before she could sort them out, she heard Shen Xiling’s icy voice: “Lord Xu.”

Fu Rong looked up. Xu Zhengning, the current powerful minister of the Ministry of Military Affairs, stood expressionless. With a wave of his hand, burly palace attendants surged forward, roughly forcing her to the ground.

Fu Rong’s heart pounded harder. As she was forced down, she shouted at Shen Xiling, “What treachery is this? Has your rebellion failed? He—”

Her words were abruptly cut off as a sharp “slap” echoed through Xi Yue Pavilion. Fu Rong’s voice was instantly silenced, as though someone had clamped down on her throat.

It was Shen Xiling who had delivered a fierce slap.

The blow was so forceful that, had the palace attendants not restrained her, Fu Rong would have been knocked to the ground. Everyone present froze, their faces betraying undisguised hatred and disgust.

“Who do you think you are to challenge me?”

Shen Xiling was unrecognizable compared to her usual self.

Xu Zhengning knew of her existence—they had met during the Northern Campaign negotiations at the envoy’s residence in Shangjing. In recent years, he had also frequently encountered the Grand Tutor’s wife.

He hadn’t expected her to display such sharp, biting behavior today. That single slap carried immense force—it even broke the skin on the empress dowager’s face—but Shen Xiling acted as though she hadn’t noticed. He could feel the overwhelming fury radiating from her, an invisible pressure emanating from her presence that inspired uncontrollable fear. For a fleeting moment, she resembled the Grand Tutor himself.

Meanwhile, Fu Rong, after a brief moment of shock, regained her composure. Slowly raising her head, her expression remained calm, devoid of madness or collapse. She seemed to maintain her rationality, continuing to think deeply.

She couldn’t afford to lose control. She had nothing left to lose.

Fu Rong lowered her gaze slightly…

But in response, another resounding slap rang out!

This time, Shen Xiling struck even harder. Her hand trembled from the force of the blow, but she paid it no mind, stepping closer to Fu Rong.

“Enough of your schemes.”

The night wind howled mournfully.

“You?”

“Did you really think pushing Pan Xian forward would shatter everything he worked so hard to build?”

“Fu Rong, you are selfish and cruel.”

Each word, each sentence, pierced Fu Rong’s ears with crystal clarity. Yet, she couldn’t respond.

How… did she know everything? And Qi Yin? Did he know too?

If he knew… what would he do?

How would he deal with her? And… her son, Zhao’er?

Her pitiful child.

Fu Rong was truly shaken.

Shen Xiling watched her, her gaze steady. “Your son’s life will depend on Qi Yin’s whim. There’s no room for negotiation.”

Fu Rong, who had been numb and speechless, suddenly erupted like a provoked beast when Shen Xiling mentioned harming her son!

She frantically tried to break free from the palace attendants’ grip. Her always dignified face twisted into something unrecognizable, and her ornate hairpins scattered across the floor from her violent struggle. Yet, despite her efforts, she remained powerless. In the end, all she could do was glare at Shen Xiling with venomous hatred, her voice shrill as she screamed, “My son belongs to me! You’ll suffer a terrible fate!”

A cornered beast, on the verge of death, can only leave behind empty curses.

Shen Xiling didn’t know why she felt so calm at that moment. She felt neither hatred nor anger, nor sorrow nor joy.

She simply stared at the woman before her.

Once, this woman had been the object of her resentment and loathing in the north. But now, looking at her, Shen Xiling felt only an inexplicable sense of detachment.

What was worse than disdain?

She didn’t know.

All she heard was her own voice, chilling and laced with mockery.

“Do you think you stand a chance?”

“Whether he lives or dies depends solely on his decision. There’s no bargaining.”

She reached out and gripped Fu Rong’s chin, her demeanor eerily sinister.

“Fu Rong, you have nothing. What do you have to gamble with?”

That final mention of the late emperor shattered the last of Fu Rong’s defenses.

Tears streamed down her face.

She had never loved him—not for a single moment. Yet, she didn’t know why hearing his name brought her to tears.

Was it because he symbolized the boundless glory and success of her memories?

Or was she mourning him?

Mourning someone with whom she had never shared true affection.

Shen Xiling watched as Fu Rong collapsed onto the ground, her tears flowing freely, her cries echoing through the pavilion. She couldn’t describe the emotions swirling within her, but ultimately, she turned and walked away.

Only the night wind lingered, carrying her parting words within the despair-filled walls of Xi Yue Pavilion.

“Afterward, she killed her own son.”