Chapter 313

Chapter 313

Consort Ping, whose vision blurred as cold sweat stung her eyes, watched the figure in bright yellow robes rise and saunter toward her with unhurried steps, hands clasped behind his back.

Awakened by the pain, Consort Ping had no idea what had caused Emperor Kangxi's favor to nosedive so dramatically. Even the system struggled to comprehend it—how could emotions shift so abruptly and so extremely?

If Su Yi were here, she might have some insight to offer.

Human hearts are inherently fickle, and an emperor’s capriciousness is taken to extremes.

Consort Ping didn’t know what had happened, but her instincts screamed unease at Kangxi’s approach. She shrank back slightly, only to aggravate her wound, sending a fresh wave of white-hot pain through her. She bit through her lip, the copper taste spreading in her mouth.

The candlelight was dim, casting half of Kangxi’s face in shadow while the other half glowed softly. Though the light should have softened his features, his Phoenix Eyes remained calm and fathomless, like a deep, unyielding pool untouched by warmth.

Kangxi fingered the extracted arrow as he sat leisurely by the bedside. "Why are you awake?" His tone carried concern, but his fingers idly played with the broken shaft. Most of the blood on the arrowhead had been wiped away, though dried rust-colored stains lingered in the crevices.

Normally, even the slightest movement would alert the attendants outside, ready to respond at any moment. Yet now, despite the obvious disturbance, no one entered.

Similarly, Kangxi showed no intention of summoning anyone. Instead, he waited with unsettling patience for Consort Ping to recover.

Even through the haze of pain dulling her thoughts, Consort Ping sensed something was wrong. Instinctively, she wanted to distance herself from Kangxi, but the searing agony flared with even the slightest movement, leaving her too weak to resist. Her body fell back helplessly against her will.

Her carefully bandaged wound had torn open, fresh blood seeping through. The blood loss brought with it a paralyzing helplessness, the terrifying sensation of teetering on the edge of death.

Desperate to survive, Consort Ping implored the system for another chance—she didn’t want to die! She had already learned her lesson from the punishment!

Yet no matter how desperately she begged, the agony only mounted without the slightest relief.

The system had indeed intended for her to suffer. Originally, it had ensured that even with a fatal injury, she wouldn’t die, and the shielding had been an additional reward to help her complete tasks more smoothly, sparing her excessive torment.

With only mild discomfort, Consort Ping had been able to calculate every step with ease, maintaining a careful performance of suffering.

Otherwise, she could have endured the raw pain—after all, she wouldn’t die. Surviving a fatal wound was already a mercy, and the extra reward had been granted because she dared to gamble with such a desperate ploy, succeeding in sending Kangxi’s favor soaring.

But now?

A single plummet, straight to rock bottom!

Why should she continue to enjoy comfort? The system only needed to ensure she wouldn’t die—how she endured the pain was her own problem.

So, without the system’s shielding, Consort Ping, who had been peacefully asleep, was jolted awake by agony.

In less than a moment, she was soaked through with sweat, her forehead slick, lank strands plastered against her skin. Her face was deathly pale, her expression contorted with agony, any semblance of fragile beauty utterly shattered.

Kangxi’s gaze rested calmly on her, his expression gentle and attentive.

Yet in this moment, it brought no comfort—only bone-deep dread.

Even Consort Ping, overwhelmed by pain, felt a chill. Though she couldn’t pinpoint the exact issue, she forced herself to speak. "Your Majesty, this concubine... is in pain. Could... could the imperial physician be summoned?"

Unconsciously, she sought to escape this chilling solitude with Kangxi. Under normal circumstances, she would have cherished such a rare opportunity to be alone with him.

But now, she only wanted someone—anyone—to disrupt this oppressive isolation.

"You don’t wish for Us to stay with you like this?" Kangxi replied, willfully ignoring her torment, his response entirely missing the point.

"No, I don’t want to!"

But she dared not answer so bluntly. Instead, she began to deceive herself, desperately ignoring Kangxi's chilling attitude. "Of course I do, but... but my wound seems to have reopened. I need... need to stop the bleeding, to re-bandage it!"

Rather than just lying here waiting to die!

The pain was so excruciating that every word she uttered felt like torture. She thought she was raising her voice, but in reality, her words were a whisper, barely discernible.

Kangxi listened patiently to her fragmented speech, his expression gentle, yet his words were anything but. "Yet it appears you need no such thing, Consort Ping."

The pain fogged her mind, making her slow to comprehend his words. When she finally did, her already ghastly complexion turned even paler. Blinking hard to clear her tear-blurred vision, she finally saw the icy detachment behind his feigned concern.

A wave of terror surged through her as she thrashed her arms, trying to distance herself from the danger, while screaming inwardly for her system’s aid.

He’s going to—!

Her eyes widened in horror as she stared disbelievingly at the broken arrow that had once again pierced her body—this time, straight through her heart.

In the next moment, her heart was utterly shredded by the twisting motion of the arrow, leaving a ragged, pulsing cavity in her chest.

Consort Ping’s eyes remained wide open, fixed on the hand that had wielded the arrow to destroy her heart. Her fingers dug like talons into his wrist, veins bulging, nails tearing into his skin. Her face, already deathly pale, began to take on a grayish hue. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out. With a last glare of pure hatred, she drew her final breath.

Kangxi’s face was spattered with blood, yet his expression remained impassive as he withdrew his hand. Accepting a silently offered handkerchief, he wiped his face and spoke calmly, "Burn the body. Ensure not a trace remains."

"Yes."

A masked subordinate obeyed, rolling the lifeless body in the bed’s quilt before carrying it away. Simultaneously, another figure entered, carrying a similarly wrapped bundle, which was placed on the bed—clearly a prearranged replacement.

Kangxi meticulously wiped the blood from his hands with the handkerchief. Finding it impossible to clean completely, he discarded the cloth and rose to leave. Outside, the area had been cleared, leaving only Liang Jiugong waiting.

As Kangxi emerged, Liang Jiugong maintained perfect composure despite his inner shock, as though he noticed neither the blood staining the emperor’s robes nor the traces still on his hands—nor the horrors that had just transpired. He stepped forward, ready for orders.

"Consort Ping succumbed to her grave injuries. I am deeply grieved. To honor her service in shielding Me from harm, she shall be buried with the rites of an imperial noble consort. Given the summer heat, there must be no delay. See to it at once."