Chapter 116: I Believe You

Lan Wu had just woken up, and though she had many questions in her heart, the palace attendants dared not let her exert herself too much.

Mujin had only spoken a few words with her when Lian Qiao entered, carrying a bowl of warm porridge.

“The Imperial Physician said Your Ladyship should have something light. This porridge is finely cooked—please try it, Your Ladyship.” As she spoke, she presented it and served Lan Wu.

Lan Wu had just taken two spoonfuls when she heard movement outside the hall doors.

She turned her head to look and saw the doors open, revealing Chu Mingheng’s figure.

That Chu Mingheng could come so quickly meant he must have rushed over as soon as the palace attendants informed him she was awake.

Lan Wu set down her spoon and smiled at Chu Mingheng.

Chu Mingheng wasn’t fooled by this. He glanced at the two extra people in the hall, and they quickly withdrew.

Only then did he take over Lian Qiao’s task, picking up the bowl to feed Lan Wu.

Silence.

One fed, the other ate—they cooperated quite well.

Only when the bowl was nearly empty did Lan Wu gently push it away, saying she was full.

The bowl was set down, the spoon lightly clinking against the porcelain with a crisp sound.

“They said Your Majesty stayed by my side all night. Are you tired, Your Majesty? Would you like to lie down for a while?” Lan Wu tilted her head slightly, trying to catch Chu Mingheng’s gaze as he deliberately avoided looking at her. Earlier, she had coughed while speaking, but now she forced herself not to cough.

She was certain that at the slightest sign of trouble, Chu Mingheng would undoubtedly be the one to react most strongly.

Chu Mingheng met her gaze, holding it steadily as if trying to discern the purpose behind her actions.

Lan Wu instinctively acted coquettishly, pressing herself against his chest as if boneless.

But then a hand lifted her up and tucked her back under the covers.

“You’re still ill—what are you fussing about?” Chu Mingheng’s tone held no anger.

Feeling slightly reassured, Lan Wu looked directly at him and asked, “Won’t Your Majesty rest?”

“I still have memorials to review. I came to see you in between.”

“Oh… And that person from last night… Zhu Qing.” Lan Wu pondered how to phrase it. “Has Your Majesty found out anything about her?”

Chu Mingheng looked at Lan Wu without a word. Such a heavy gaze was always unsettling.

“I promise, from now on, whenever I go out, I won’t be so playful, I won’t remove my cloak or clothes, I won’t fall ill again, and I won’t make Your Majesty worry…” She rattled off a long list of promises, and Chu Mingheng didn’t interrupt her.

Lan Wu swallowed, thinking her words should suffice.

Unexpectedly, Chu Mingheng only let out a light scoff and averted his gaze, as if he had nothing more to say, merely telling Lan Wu to focus on recovering.

Just as he was about to leave, Lan Wu sat up and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Your Majesty, please don’t be angry.”

Chu Mingheng could bear it no longer. He turned and pressed Lan Wu down onto the bed, unable to bring himself to hurt her but speaking harshly nonetheless: “You tell me not to be angry—so you do know I’m angry.”

“Just see if I ever take you out of the palace again.”

“You can use every trick in the book to deceive me, but when it truly matters, you scare yourself into unconsciousness.”

“Whenever I ask you anything, you give me vague answers…”

He pinched her cheek, his tone fierce: “Lan Wu, it’s not that I’m angry—it’s that you’re going to be the death of me.”

Lan Wu felt wronged by his scolding, a thin mist clouding her heart, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Her lips trembled, and her stubborn silence was heartbreakingly pitiful.

Chu Mingheng sighed inwardly—he could never bear to see Lan Wu cry.

He reached out with a handkerchief to wipe her tears, his tone softening once more.

“Alright, alright, if you won’t speak, then you won’t. I won’t force you. It’s just that I can’t accept it… If you won’t tell me, you can’t stop me from investigating myself.”

What kind of unspeakable secret could drive Lan Wu to torment herself like this?

Chu Mingheng frowned, watching her weep with such grievance, and couldn’t help but recall the playful words she had spoken after escaping the Imperial Garden.

She had said someone came with an imperial decree to have her strangled.

Though it had been spoken in jest, and he hadn’t paid it much mind at the time, now, upon careful reflection, it seemed strange in every detail.

Lan Wu suddenly tugged at his sleeve, her eyes reddened from tears, yet her expression was unusually earnest.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell Your Majesty, but what I have to say is so absurd and unbelievable that you probably won’t believe me…”

Chu Mingheng said softly, “Speak, and I will believe you.”

Lan Wu hesitated, then sat up, wrapping herself in the blanket. Her throat tightened several times, but looking at Chu Mingheng’s face, she still couldn’t bring herself to speak. Instead, she buried her face in his chest—perhaps without seeing him, she could finally find the words.

Yet the very first sentence she uttered nearly froze Chu Mingheng in place.

“I died once.”

Once the first words were spoken, the rest came more easily.

Whenever Lan Wu thought of her past life, she was overwhelmed with sorrow, fear, and resentment. At first, she blamed Chu Mingheng for not taking her away, then blamed the women of the harem for their cruelty, and finally blamed herself for her own foolishness. Having died unjustly, she naturally wanted to stay far away upon her rebirth and never dared speak of seeking revenge.

If she hadn’t been pushed to the brink, she would never have chosen to walk this same path again—after all, what was there to lose but another death?

Yet everything had turned out differently from her previous life.

“In my past life, Consort Li said she would make me a mistress and presented me to Your Majesty, and then I became your Lan Meiren.”

“My rank was too low. She both suppressed me and wanted me to gain favor to divide the power of Consort Shu and Consort Rou. I had no choice.”

“And back then, you bullied me too. It seemed you didn’t like me—you only liked it when I danced for you, but later you wouldn’t even let me dance.”

Lan Wu didn’t cry as she spoke these words; she was simply filled with resentment. It was just as well she couldn’t see Chu Mingheng’s face, or she might have slapped him—lightly, of course.

“In the spring of the second year, you suddenly said you were going to Changyong Mountain to offer sacrifices to heaven. At that time, I was still only Shuyi Lan, and you didn’t take anyone with you. I begged you, but you refused. I was angry, not yet knowing that your imperial concubines were plotting against me.”

“And then you left. I stayed alone in Yilan Hall, behaving so obediently that I didn’t even dare step outside. But one night, I woke up to hear them accusing me—accusing me of defiling the harem—”

At this point, Lan Wu tightened her grip on Chu Mingheng’s clothes, her words speeding up. “I thought they wouldn’t dare punish me, but suddenly a palace maid I’d never seen before appeared—that Zhu Qing. She held an imperial decree and said she was going to strangle me! She said she was going to strangle me—”

“Consort Shu sent Zhu Qing over, and then the door closed. She didn’t even show me the decree, just took a white cloth and—!”

Lan Wu shuddered violently and fell silent.

After pouring out so much, Lan Wu quickly realized Chu Mingheng wasn’t reacting.

Did he not believe her?

Lan Wu tried to lift her head from his chest to look at him.

Chu Mingheng gently pressed her head down to keep her from seeing, opening his mouth to say something, but his throat felt as if blocked by a hard stone, stuck in the middle, sharp and painful, making even breathing difficult.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Lan Wu sounded somewhat dejected. She had known that Chu Mingheng might not believe such words.

Then, she heard Chu Mingheng’s voice above her, gentle and soft, yet seemingly suppressing his emotions, slowly repeating: “A Wu, I believe you.”