Chapter 35: Beat This Concubine to Death
The night wind remained unchanged. The palace lanterns in the pavilion illuminated the path, dimming considerably after the emperor’s departure.
Consort Shu lowered her gaze, staring at Lady Liu, who was pinned firmly to the ground, her face flushed crimson.
She raised a hand to cover her nose and mouth.
Even now, Lady Liu was still crying out for Your Majesty’s forgiveness and begging Her Ladyship to save her.
But Consort Shu could not save her life.
The foolish act Lady Liu had taken upon herself to carry out had nearly dragged Consort Shu down with her. Yet, if not for the flower-viewing banquet Consort Shu had arranged, Lady Liu would never have found such a perfect opportunity to target Lan Wu. In that sense, it had all backfired.
Thinking of this, Consort Shu’s frown deepened.
Just then, she saw two elderly matrons holding broad bamboo boards, walking step by step toward Lady Liu.
“What is this for?” Consort Shu asked.
The two matrons replied respectfully, “Your Ladyship, His Majesty has decreed that Cairen Liu must be brought to her senses.”
At this moment, Cairen Liu had lost all her usual arrogance. Her hair was pulled back, forcing her face upward, as the broad bamboo board struck her cheek with a sharp, resounding slap, instantly knocking her head to the side.
The pain jolted Cairen Liu into greater awareness, but before she could utter a word, a second blow followed in quick succession.
Listening to her pitiful cries, Consort Shu took several steps back.
Yunqing, standing behind her, hurriedly steadied her.
“…Return to the palace,” Consort Shu turned away, repeating the command, “Return to the palace!”
Yunqing acknowledged the order, casting an indifferent glance at the ongoing punishment before quietly following Consort Shu’s steps.
Such an undignified punishment could not possibly have been conceived by His Majesty. As the saying goes, every grievance has its source, and every debt its debtor. Recalling His Majesty’s earlier protection of Lan Wu, Consort Shu gritted her teeth fiercely—her initial suspicions had been correct. That lowly dancer named Lan Wu truly possessed considerable cunning.
She should have disposed of her long ago—whether by drowning her in a well or forcing her to hang herself… anything would have been better than having her now, an eyesore in her path.
With this matter resolved and the thought of Lady Liu’s disgraceful state, Lan Wu’s steps felt almost buoyant as she followed Chu Mingheng back.
In her previous life, she had often endured in silence. Minor grievances were one thing, but even when faced with major schemes directed at her, she would resort to whispering in Chu Mingheng’s ear, whether overtly or covertly. Though conflicts persisted, Lady Liu had never died.
Now, however, she was the first to fall.
The Imperial Carriage returned to Longyu Pavilion. As she alighted, Lan Wu noticed that Chu Mingheng had not waited for her but had instead entered the hall on his own.
Unperturbed, she followed, unfastening her cloak and handing it to a palace attendant.
The hall was brightly lit.
Upon entering, Lan Wu did not see Chu Mingheng in the outer hall, so she proceeded further inside to find him.
Just as she reached the entrance to the Inner Palace, she spotted Chu Mingheng seated on a soft couch, a familiar-looking Ruler placed on the low table before him.
An uneasy premonition immediately arose in her heart.
Lan Wu turned on her heel, ready to flee, but Chu Mingheng had already seen her. His voice, laced with a cold smile, froze her in place.
“Come here.”
Lan Wu stiffly turned back, her mind racing for a solution in an instant.
She quickly ran to Chu Mingheng and knelt, leaning over his knees. Her eyes were red as she spoke with particular sorrow and timidity: “Your Majesty, Cairen Liu has only met me a few times yet she humiliated me, taking advantage of when I was just a servant. Your Majesty… they all look down on me, I’m truly afraid…”
She was even more afraid of the dark, black Ruler before her. Who brought this thing here? And didn’t tell her—had a traitor emerged in her palace?!
Lan Wu collected her thoughts and began to sob softly.
She was crying, but not entirely falsely. Tears welled in her eyes but did not fall. Though she spoke of fear, when Chu Mingheng lifted her face, she looked directly at him.
Chu Mingheng pinched her chin with one hand, raising her face. The bright candlelight in the hall allowed a clear view of the slight fear in her eyes.
Yet it didn’t seem like fear of anyone, but rather like…
Chu Mingheng glanced at the Ruler on the low table, then reached out to wrap an arm around Lan Wu’s waist, lifting her to sit on his lap.
His fingertips pinched the little flesh on Lan Wu’s waist, then gently stroked it, not looking at her at all. His tone was dangerous, slow, and stern: “Oh, you’re afraid.”
Lan Wu was pulled into his embrace, her chin resting on his shoulder. As she hurriedly nodded in agreement, she heard him ask: “What are you afraid of?”
What was she afraid of.
Did she even need to say it?
Such a formidable Ruler was placed right beside her to intimidate her, and Chu Mingheng had the nerve to ask what she was afraid of. The last time she was struck with it, it hurt so much she couldn’t sit on a hard chair the next day.
Remembering that time, Lan Wu moved her face to the side of Chu Mingheng’s neck, gently nuzzling him, her voice confused: “Your Majesty, don’t be angry…”
What had she done wrong? Say it, and let everyone judge fairly.
Chu Mingheng felt her cling to him coquettishly, but his slight anger did not lessen—instead, it intensified.
How could Lan Wu be so sure that acting spoiled like this would smooth things over? She seemed overly accustomed to such gestures. Who had she done this with before? Who had made her so accustomed to it?
“Ah, it hurts—” Pinched until it hurt, Lan Wu instinctively cried out in pain. Her voice wasn’t loud, but she was close to Chu Mingheng, so to him, it sounded genuinely painful.
“It’s not yet time for you to cry out in pain.” He sneered, telling Lan Wu to straighten her attitude, and asked, “What book were you reading this afternoon?”
Lan Wu’s pupils froze. She hadn’t expected him to settle accounts now. Lacking confidence, she mumbled vaguely, trying to confuse the issue: “Nothing… This afternoon, wasn’t I practicing calligraphy in Your Majesty’s Imperial Study? My hand is about to develop calluses, Your Majesty, look.”
With that, she spread her soft, pale palm before Chu Mingheng’s eyes.
Those hands were thin and soft, with slender fingers and glossy nails, much better than when she was in the Music Bureau.
Chu Mingheng looked at the hand presented before him, then at Lan Wu’s face, and smiled, but his words were merciless.
“Have I spoiled you too much, letting you dare to play tricks before me repeatedly?”
Lan Wu seemed frightened by his words, momentarily stunned. Only after his words sank in and silence filled the hall did she lower her head, curling her fingers and withdrawing her hand. Her breathing was light and slow as she looked around in panic.
Her gaze fell upon the Ruler.
She picked it up, holding it tightly, quickly making up her mind. Looking up at Chu Mingheng, she handed the Ruler over to him, her voice soft yet tinged with a stifled sob, saying, “Your Majesty, this concubine was wrong. Please beat me to death.”
Lan Wu was adept at using retreat as a form of advance. With just one sentence, she made it sound as though she had been wronged to the extreme, as if Chu Mingheng intended to subject her to the harshest punishment.
Hearing these words, Chu Mingheng felt a headache coming on.
He took the Ruler, his expression growing even more stern. The tip of the Ruler lightly tapped the hand Lan Wu had withdrawn, signaling her to extend it.
“Open your hand.”