The mad princess forces love upon him, and the aloof imperial advisor trembles every night.

He raised his eyes to look at Chu Xuanjing, his peach blossom eyes revealing a clear calmness and wise consideration: "Tomorrow, I will go to the Minister's residence on your behalf."

Chu Xuanjing frowned: "Aqing, that stubborn old man won't even give me face, you..."

"Your Highness, please rest assured," Zhou Qingchen smiled slightly, with a confident composure.

"Minister Li was a reasonable and prudent man, and he was loyal and upright throughout his life."

"He's just holding a grudge about the Empress's affair; the old man can't get over it right away, and he harbors resentment."

"I will go there and, as a junior, appeal to their emotions and reason with them."

"After analyzing the pros and cons, and considering His Highness Chen Ming's painstaking efforts and the current situation... he is a wise man and will surely change his mind."

"At that time, not only will blood ties be continued, but Your Highness will also receive the strong support of the Qingliu lineage."

Chu Xuanjing looked at him, his gaze softening little by little:

"Alright, this matter... I'll leave it to you, Aqing."

"Be careful. If that old man gives you a hard time, don't hold back. Come back immediately."

"I understand," Zhou Qingchen replied in a muffled voice from his embrace, a smile playing on her lips.

Chu Xuanjing turned to Zhuifeng, his voice turning cold and hard again: "Keep a close eye on the Princess's residence. Any unusual activity by that bitch Chu Qingyue—no matter how small—must be reported immediately."

"Yes."

Zhui Feng retreated, and the door closed.

The candlelight flickered.

Zhou Qingchen snuggled into Chu Xuanjing's arms and looked up at him: "Congratulations, Your Highness... You've eliminated a major threat and are one step closer to that position."

Chu Xuanjing rolled over and pinned him down, tracing his delicate features with his fingertips, from his brow bone to his nose bridge, and then to his lips that always spoke sweet words.

"Ah Qing is so good..." he murmured softly, his voice filled with suppressed desire, "Today is indeed a 'good day,' brother..."

He lowered his head and kissed the side of his neck, his warm breath brushing against the sensitive skin, feeling the subtle trembling of the person beneath him.

His hand slipped under the brocade quilt, stroking the smooth waistline, his voice growing hoarse:

"I'll take good care of you."

Their clothes fell away silently, and the candlelight cast their intertwined shadows onto the wall, magnifying and entangled them.

The brocade rug is deeply embedded, bearing witness to intense emotions and silent vows.

Chu Xuanjing's movements were sometimes as gentle as a spring breeze and rain, tenderly kissing every inch of his skin;

Sometimes it is as fierce as a torrential downpour, with a ruthless intent to tear the other party apart and devour them.

As Zhou Qingchen tilted his head back in emotion, he kissed away the tears from the corners of his eyes, licked his bobbing Adam's apple, and left his mark.

Zhou Qingchen's fingertips dug into Chu Xuanjing's broad back, leaving faint red marks.

He endured it, yielded to it, sobbed in the overwhelming waves, yet always kept his eyes open, gazing at the man on top of him who was sometimes sinister and ruthless, and sometimes showered him with tenderness.

He knew that Chu Xuanjing's hands were dirty and his heart harbored venom, but he also knew that the only warmth and light in this man's heart was reserved for Zhou Qingchen.

This is enough.

The palace is treacherous, and the road ahead is fraught with bloodshed. Having chosen this perilous path to the pinnacle of power, and having chosen this man who, though in hell, desperately tries to give him a glimmer of hope, he has already surrendered his body and soul to him.

"Ah Jing..." he murmured, calling out this intimate name in the dizziness of reaching the peak.

Chu Xuanjing's body trembled, and he lowered his head to kiss his lips fiercely, melting all his responses, all his promises, all the darkness and dependence that could not be spoken into this almost suffocating kiss.

————Eastern Palace - Funeral Hall———

When Chu Qingyue stepped into the Eastern Palace's mourning hall, the lingering echoes of the palace's death knell still reverberated in the sky.

In the center of the mourning hall, the heavy coffin made of golden nanmu wood was suffocating.

Lying inside was her half-brother, Chu Xuanche, the future crown prince who had been reduced to a charred corpse by heavenly lightning last night.

Chu Qingyue raised her eyes and glanced at the mourning hall.

Chu Xuanjing knelt on the left side of the coffin, dressed in mourning clothes, crying so hard that her shoulders shook and her voice was hoarse. If she hadn't known that her third brother could strangle a palace maid who had informed on her when he was only seven years old, she would almost have believed that they were truly brothers.

The eldest prince's wife and two young princesses prostrated themselves on the ground, sobbing, while the sixth prince, Chu Xuanlang, was also weeping—what a tragic and sorrowful scene of a royal funeral.

Her gaze finally settled.

The empress stood with her back to the palace gate beside the coffin, her back ramrod straight, like a withered bamboo about to break.

The plain white mourning clothes fluttered loosely on her body, and there was not a single pearl or jade in her hair, only a pale white paper flower tucked at an angle.

That figure stood alone, like a withered pine tree on a cliff edge, poised to plunge into the abyss at any moment.

Chu Qingyue's lips curved slightly, but the smile was fleeting.

"Your Highness," Liu Yun called softly, handing over three sticks of incense.

Her plain white dress trailed silently on the ground, and her silver hair flowed in the morning light like silk refined by moonlight.

When she walked to the altar, the low sobbing that had been going on in the hall suddenly stopped.

All eyes—sorrowful, probing, fearful—fell upon her, upon her silver hair that seemed so out of place for her age, upon the cinnabar scar on her forehead.

At twenty, her hair was as white as frost.

No one dared to ask, but the legend of the seven years in Beiming lingered in everyone's heart: mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and one man returned.

She took the three sticks of incense from Liuyun and lit them on the candle.

The wisps of smoke rising obscured the fleeting cold glint in her eyes.

"Elder brother," she said softly, her voice as calm as a still pool, "may you have a safe journey."

She placed the incense stick in the burner, curtsied, and performed a perfect bow, her movements so precise that not a single flaw could be found, yet she was utterly devoid of warmth.

Just as he was about to turn around—

"stop."

The empress's voice, hoarse as sandpaper scraping against rotten wood, exploded in the deathly silent mourning hall.

Chu Qingyue paused slightly and slowly turned to the side.

The bright white candles cast a shadow on her profile, making her face appear half-lit and half-shadowed. The cinnabar, set against the pure white background, looked as red as freshly splattered blood—breathtakingly beautiful, yet terrifyingly so.

"What are your orders, Your Majesty?" she asked respectfully.

The empress did not turn around, but her shoulders began to tremble.

At first, it was as slight as falling autumn leaves, then it grew more and more intense, until finally her whole body was trembling like a leaf. She slowly turned around.

Chu Qingyue saw her face.

Overnight, the master of the six palaces, who had held the Phoenix Seal for twenty years, aged ten years. His eye sockets were sunken, his lips were dry and cracked and bleeding, and most terrifying of all were his eyes—bloodshot, with a near-mad hatred burning deep in his pupils, like a dying mother beast staring at the enemy who killed her cubs.

"Yue'er," the Empress spoke, her voice strangely gentle, carrying a chilling intimacy, "Your brother is gone, aren't you... sad?"

The mourning hall fell silent.

Even Chu Xuanjing stopped sobbing and looked up.

All the relatives, court officials, and noblewomen held their breath.