Chapter 89: She Never Wants to See Him Again

Chapter 89: She Never Wanted to See Him Again

Did anyone really expect Emperor Xingyuan to admit his mistakes? Impossible. He was delusional and self-important. Back when he hadn’t gotten his way with Liu Yandai and was repeatedly rejected by her, he had gone mad, his true colors coming out—he’d stop at nothing. That was his real face.

Now, with his belly full, his wife and child by his side, and in high spirits, he had the patience to coax Liu Yandai with apologies. At this point, even if she demanded it, he’d grovel at her feet. But if she dared say she wanted to leave? Emperor Xingyuan would snap without hesitation.

His love for her was real, but so was his insatiable, ruthless, and ungrateful nature.

Inside the carriage, Emperor Xingyuan clung to her and whispered many sweet words, but Liu Yandai refused to acknowledge him. She was waiting for her uncle and mother-in-law to come rescue her.

She just had to endure a little longer.

Emperor Xingyuan knew she was upset, so he held her tightly, drowning her in sweet nothings.

Liu Yandai remained silent, and eventually, he too stopped speaking. His breathing grew heavier, and when Liu Yandai glanced back, she saw that he had already fallen asleep, crushed against her.

In the dimly lit compartment, his face bore faint traces of exhaustion, and the stubble on his lips had grown longer, giving him a disheveled appearance.

Even in sleep, his arm remained locked around Liu Yandai’s waist, making it impossible for her to break free.

She loathed him, pretending not to see him as she continued cradling Xiao Zhengrong, praying under her breath that her uncle and mother-in-law would come for her soon.

The carriage lay hushed and dim, the three of them squeezed together, their breaths mingling. Inside the compartment, there was an unusual stillness. Occasionally, when Liu Yandai shifted, Emperor Xingyuan would groggily open his eyes, glance at her, and then sink back into deep slumber.

Night gradually fell.

When Liu Yandai was taken by Emperor Xingyuan, the Prince of Southern Pacification was still handling official duties. Earlier that day, while the prince and his Deputy General were executing corrupt military officers, chaos erupted—someone had raided the execution site.

These were seasoned soldiers stationed in Nanyun for years, each with their own loyal subordinates. With their masters facing death, their men were bound to revolt. Even the Prince of Southern Pacification’s presence couldn’t suppress the uprising. After the execution was disrupted, the prince and his deputy spent the rest of the day hunting down the fugitives, leaving no time to deal with other matters.

Qin Chanyue was frantically worried and rushed to the palace, only to be turned away. The head eunuch bluntly told her that Liu Yandai had been taken by Emperor Xingyuan—an imperial favor—and warned Qin Chanyue not to make trouble.

Seething with helpless rage, Qin Chanyue could do nothing.

After all, the emperor could do as he pleased. Hadn’t past emperors even seized their sons’ wives? What could anyone say? Now that this calamity had befallen them, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and endure.

But she couldn’t bear to part with Liu Yandai. That foolish girl—if she really followed Emperor Xingyuan back to Chang’an, wouldn’t he devour her whole?

Burning with frustration, Qin Chanyue could only return home.

Meanwhile, Liu Yandai remained trapped in the carriage with Emperor Xingyuan.

Emperor Xingyuan slept for half the day, only waking as evening fell. At first, he was disoriented, lost in a haze, cold enveloping him—until the warmth beside him pulled him back to awareness.

Turning his head, he saw Liu Yandai curled up in his arms at some point, her soft, pale face pressed against his chest, dead asleep.

Warmth flooded Emperor Xingyuan, his chest swelling with contentment. He bent down to kiss her, only to hear a faint whimper.

His gaze shifted past Liu Yandai to Xiao Zhengrong beside her.

His good-for-nothing son squirmed with closed eyes, on the verge of crying. Frowning, Emperor Xingyuan hesitated for a moment before fumbling as he lifted him up. A quick check confirmed it—the diaper was soaked through.

Xiao Zhengrong had wet himself, the diaper drenched.

After a brief pause, Emperor Xingyuan carried the baby to the tea table to change him himself.

How hard could a baby be?

The carriage was stocked with spare diapers. Emperor Xingyuan rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

He had seen how the nursemaids handled things—removing the soiled diaper, washing the baby with warm water, and then putting on a fresh one. Such a simple process should have been effortless.

But Little Zhengrong was fussy.

Eyes still shut tight, he let out a full-blown tantrum. Emperor Xingyuan wiped and soothed him, barely managing to secure the clean diaper before having to pick him up again to comfort him. Liu Yandai drowsily opened her eyes, glanced at the emperor, and tried to rise to help, only to hear him say, "Lie down. Later, it'll be your turn to comfort me."

Liu Yandai pouted and lay back down.

The nerve of him!

Emperor Xingyuan paced back and forth inside the carriage with the child in his arms.

After much fuss, Little Zhengrong finally gave his father a break, closed his eyes, and drifted back to sleep.

Emperor Xingyuan let out a relieved sigh and carefully placed the child back on the bed.

Liu Yandai looked up at him.

She saw the emperor tuck the baby into the corner, and when he noticed her watching, he gave her a quiet chuckle. "Just like you—such a crybaby."

In the dim light, his smiling face looked strangely gentle.

For a heartbeat, Liu Yandai was lost in thought—until he leaned in close and murmured, "As long as I live, I won’t let you lift a finger. From now on, I’ll take care of the child."

She was pulled into his embrace, and it took her a few breaths to remember the situation they were in. If he hadn’t abducted her, how could she be without even a nursemaid now? And yet, the culprit was putting on this noble act!

Liu Yandai glared at him before turning away to hold the child. "I'm going back someday."

Emperor Xingyuan watched her back, his gentle mask slipping for an instant.

Then, suppressing his emotions, he climbed back onto the bed as if nothing had happened and pulled her tight against him.

It didn’t matter, he thought. Even if Liu Yandai hated him, she was in his bed now—and would give him daughters in the future.

As he held her, Liu Yandai thought of her uncle and mother-in-law. Emperor Xingyuan must have read her mind and murmured darkly by her ear, "No one can take you away—not even your uncle."

Liu Yandai stayed silent.

Emperor Xingyuan’s resentment toward the Prince of Southern Pacification deepened.

By dawn the next day, after handling the aftermath, the prince hurried to seek an audience at the government office, but Emperor Xingyuan refused to see him.

He intended to take Liu Yandai away from the southern border immediately—back to Chang’an.

After a night of discussion with Qin Chanyue, Chu Hang sought another audience with Emperor Xingyuan the following evening.

This time, he came carrying his tiger tally.

He took full responsibility for once smuggling Liu Yandai out of Chang’an. Though the emperor could do nothing to Chu Hang directly, he could torment Liu Yandai through petty torments.

So now, Chu Hang was willing to cede half of the southern territory, voluntarily reducing his own power, if only to bring Liu Yandai and Little Zhengrong back.

In matters of love, what mattered was willingness. Since Liu Yandai was unwilling, why force her? Chu Hang knew Emperor Xingyuan truly cared for her—but he also understood that such affection had a price. If he offered enough, he could buy the emperor’s "love" away.

Emperor Xingyuan was tempted, but he did not agree at once.

They'd reached an impasse.

That night, in the evening.

After several indiscreet liaisons in the carriage, Emperor Xingyuan became enamored with it. Later, due to its inconvenience, Liu Yandai and Xiao Zhengrong had to disembark and retire to adjoining quarters.

The night was silent, with moonlight streaming in through the window. Without candles, the moon's glow was even brighter, illuminating the chamber with remarkable clarity.

Against the wall inside the chamber stood a table for meals, while several sandalwood cabinets were piled in the corner. The bed curtains were half-open, faintly revealing a woman lying across the bed.

The woman was voluptuous, with rosy cheeks and skin like polished jade, like morning dew glistening on lotus petals—full and radiant.

It was Liu Yandai.

In the days since Emperor Xingyuan had taken her away, Liu Yandai had been consumed by fretful unease. Finally managing to fall asleep, she was soon trapped in a feverish nightmare.

*In the dream, blood was everywhere, and battle cries shook the very heavens. She stumbled, losing her balance in the dream, and then abruptly woke up.*

When she awoke, the surroundings were utterly silent—no blood, no battle cries. She lay safely on the bed, with Xiao Zhengrong still asleep beside her.

She remained disoriented for a moment, recalling the dream.

It had been a strange dream, and now she could no longer remember what had happened. Yet, the gnawing sense of impending doom took root in her heart.

She got out of bed and walked to the window to look outside, only to see the great blossoming tree blooming quietly in the moonlight.

She couldn’t help but think of that day when she had arrived here, leaving with a heart heavy with grief, only to be captured again within two days. Now, Emperor Xingyuan had inexplicably taken her away once more. She didn’t know what her uncle and mother-in-law had done, but she felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

The sky had been heavy that day, the sun already set. For some reason, Liu Yandai had a persistent sense of foreboding, her pulse hammering incessantly.

Where had Emperor Xingyuan gone?

This man, who usually refused to leave her side for even a moment, dogging her every step—why was he conspicuously absent now?

The quieter the surroundings, the more her unease grew.

Unable to stay in the chamber any longer, she set the child down and stepped outside.

A strange urgency rose within her, urging her to find Emperor Xingyuan quickly, as soon as possible.

When she emerged, only a head eunuch remained outside the chamber to attend to her.

No one else was allowed near Liu Yandai’s quarters except the head eunuch.

Seeing her come out, the head eunuch made haste to bow and asked, "Why has Miss Liu come out? Do you need anything?"

"Take me to Emperor Xingyuan," she said, her face pale.

She wanted to ask Emperor Xingyuan what scheme he was brewing, keeping her confined like this for days. She couldn’t bear it any longer.

The head eunuch was beside himself with delight—this was the first time Liu Yandai had actively asked to see Emperor Xingyuan.

Taking it as a sign of reconciliation, the eunuch was delighted and quickly replied, "In reply to the young lady, His Majesty is resting in adjoining quarters. The night broth is ready—you may take it with you."

As he spoke, the head eunuch personally led the way, guiding her to a nearby chamber. He handed the broth to Liu Yandai, beaming obsequiously as he said, "Miss Liu, His Majesty has been thinking of you. He will be overjoyed to see you."

Liu Yandai, burdened with foreboding, carried the broth over.

Inside the chamber, Emperor Xingyuan was speaking with someone, guarded by golden-armored guards who barred anyone from approaching.

When Liu Yandai arrived, the guards moved to stop her, but the head eunuch swiped at one with his horsetail whisk and snapped, "How dare you block her? Get out of the way!"

After the Golden Guards retreated, Liu Yandai, holding the soup in her hand, slowed her pace as she approached the adjacent chamber.

The moment she drew near, she heard someone inside reporting to Emperor Xingyuan, "Your Majesty, do you truly intend to exchange Miss Liu with the Prince of Southern Pacification?"

Liu Yandai's steps faltered.

Inside the chamber, Emperor Xingyuan was studying a map of the southern frontier with his trusted aides, discussing the issue.

Back during the banquet at the Marquis of Zhongyi's residence, the Prince of Southern Pacification's subordinates had recognized only their lord, not the Crown Prince. Emperor Xingyuan had held a grudge ever since, but lacking sufficient power at the time, he had bided his time. Now, as emperor, that grudge had silently grown.

Emperor Xingyuan had endured Chu Hang for far too long. Upon ascending the throne, he had actively promoted military officers in Chang'an, nurturing several commanders with the intent to replace the Prince of Southern Pacification. He could not tolerate an uncontrollable region within Great Chen—how could he allow another to snore beside his bed?

Chu Hang had assisted Emperor Xingyuan for years, yet they had finally reached this point. Perhaps when Emperor Xingyuan had ruthlessly executed the Second Prince, Chu Hang should have foreseen this.

Chu Hang knew Emperor Xingyuan's intentions, and Emperor Xingyuan knew his. With the Second Prince gone, the two had become each other's greatest adversary.

The executioner's axe that had fallen upon others would inevitably come for Chu Hang. Though he had dodged and retreated time and again, he could no longer escape.

The emperor sought to weaken the regional lords, while the Prince of Southern Pacification refused. Conflict had long brewed between them, and Liu Yandai became the spark that set it off.

Now, Chu Hang's show of weakness only fueled Emperor Xingyuan's ambition.

He thought—could he use this chance to eliminate the Prince of Southern Pacification?

If the Prince of Southern Pacification died, the frontier would be thrown into chaos, but the Qin Family Army's medicines could be distributed to other forces. Forging another Qin Family Army was merely a matter of time.

As long as he could reclaim the southern frontier, he was willing to endure short-term chaos and the loss of lives there.

Deep in thought, Emperor Xingyuan gazed coldly at the southern frontier map before him and said, "No. I want the tiger tally—and the woman."

The Prince of Southern Pacification had best obediently surrender the tally and present Liu Yandai as tribute. If he did, Emperor Xingyuan might spare his life.

But if the Prince of Southern Pacification dared to seize Liu Yandai by force, Emperor Xingyuan would not hesitate to execute him. He had long despised the man. The southern frontier would stand firm even without its prince.

Since his coronation, Emperor Xingyuan had kept his eyes fixed on the south.

Despite his previous near-fatal illness, it had not deterred his ambitions for the southern frontier. Emperor Xingyuan might not be a good man, but he was undoubtedly a capable ruler. The moment he took the throne, he became a ruthless and cold-blooded sovereign. First, he seized Liu Yandai; next, he would weaken the regional lords, then strip the Prince of Southern Pacification of his title, and finally, take his life.

Emperor Xingyuan had long prepared for a confrontation with the Prince of Southern Pacification. Only his poor health and northern floods had delayed his plans. Now, Liu Yandai was the spark that set the conflict off.

A nearby attendant hesitated before asking, "What if the Prince of Southern Pacification refuses?"

"If he dares to defy me—" Emperor Xingyuan sneered. "Have him killed."

He would take everything and then destroy the man.

The moment the word "kill" left his lips, the sound of breaking dishes echoed outside the tent. Emperor Xingyuan, already tense, sprang to his feet and rushed out.

As the chamber door flung open, he saw Liu Yandai crouched in the corridor, her face pale as she stared at the spilled soup and broken dishes.

The savory smell of the broth filled the air.

She had brought him a meal.

Emperor Xingyuan's heart softened instantly. He hurried forward to help her up, but Liu Yandai staggered back, her eyes red as she asked, her voice trembling, "Are you going to kill my uncle?"

She had thought he only meant to take her against her will, to torment her. Never had she imagined he also wanted her uncle's territory in the south. They had once fought together—but now—

When the cunning hare dies, the hound is cooked. [An idiom implying that after achieving victory, one may discard or turn against former allies.] Even the closest comrades grow distant with time. Survival went to the one with the colder heart.

The hexagonal palace lanterns beneath the eaves swayed unsteadily, casting flickering light on the girl standing there, her face twisted in anguish. She had never known that her uncle would lose half of Southern Pacification [a region] for her sake. She thought, perhaps her uncle didn’t know either—that Emperor Xingyuan, having seized half of Southern Pacification, remained unsatisfied and now sought the Prince of Southern Pacification’s life.

When Emperor Xingyuan saw Liu Yandai, his heart clenched tighter. Softening his tone, he said, “You misheard. I said he would only be executed if he refused to surrender. If he complies, nothing will happen.”

Such highwayman's logic, yet he spoke it as if perfectly justified, even with a hint of wheedling in his expression. Lowering his voice, he murmured to Liu Yandai, “Come now, I won’t take his lands anymore, alright? Just come back to Chang’an with me obediently, and I’ll ask for nothing else.”

Liu Yandai stared at his face. She knew he was lying to her again.

The last time, outside Changshan Hall, he had deceived her the same way. Every time he lied, he would gaze at her with utmost sincerity before uttering falsehoods. If she truly believed him, she would fall into a den of wolves, devoured bit by bit.

At this moment, she saw through him completely.

She could never escape Emperor Xingyuan’s grasp, and he would never spare her any pity. He would only deceive her. Being trapped by him would bring no benefit to her uncle or her husband's mother—only trouble.

She had always been a burden. First to her uncle, then to her husband's mother, and now, because of Emperor Xingyuan, her uncle faced devastating losses. She felt nothing but shame toward them.

She didn’t know how to repay them, but she knew how to stop this unrelenting torment.

She was exhausted.

She had never been strong-willed or combative—just an ordinary girl, gentle and kind-hearted, devoid of any aggression. She was even more fragile and slow to understand than most. What others grasped instantly took her much longer to comprehend. Escaping Emperor Xingyuan’s clutches to become an apprentice at Changshan Hall had been her greatest act of self-preservation—one that he had now undone.

She couldn’t hold on any longer. He had driven her to desperation.

“I won’t go back with you,” Liu Yandai said in a ghost of a voice, her face bloodless as she took two shaky steps back. “Knowing you…is my life's greatest regret.”

If she could turn back time, she would avoid Emperor Xingyuan at all costs, never have gone to Chang’an. She would rather have died young in Southern Pacification than meet him.

Her frail, fading refusal wounded Emperor Xingyuan, sparking his rage.

Why wouldn’t she just yield?

How had he wronged her? What emperor had ever done as much for a woman as he had? Even Noble Consort Wan had never dared to make such demands of the late emperor.

“What have I ever denied you? I am the Son of Heaven!” He advanced on her step by step. “Do you think I won’t punish you for this defiance?”

As he spoke and closed in, Liu Yandai didn’t retreat. She simply watched him calmly before silently raising her hand.

In it was a shard of porcelain she had picked up earlier—its edge razor-sharp, hidden in her sleeve until now. Without hesitation, she brought up the shard and drew it across her own throat.

It was over in an instant.

Emperor Xingyuan hadn’t noticed her hiding the shard. As he loomed over her, still boiling with rage, weighing how best to break her—in that split second, she acted.

She had learned basic instruction from Qian Gu Doctor, who had once served on the battlefield and knew fatal strikes. He had taught her: to kill swiftly, slice the thickest tendon in the neck with a sharp blade.

Death comes quickly. A person can be stronger than a tiger or elephant—or more fragile than glass.

—

When blood sprayed from her neck onto Emperor Xingyuan’s face, he froze.

Blood. Pale skin. Delicate blue veins. The crimson gush was like rotting blossoms blooming on snow. As she collapsed, the shrill scream of a eunuch pierced the air.

Emperor Xingyuan had seen countless deaths—none had ever frightened him. But as Liu Yandai fell, his very guts turned to ice.

Would Liu Yandai die?

It seemed he remembered that year of desolation again, panic washing over him. He took a step forward, but his legs turned stiff as deadwood. He didn’t know where he stepped, only that his foot met empty air, and he pitched forward, crashing to the ground. Crawling, he reached Liu Yandai.

He was actually afraid of blood.

When the blood sprayed onto his hands, his whole frame shook uncontrollably.

Emperor Xingyuan thought, how could she not be afraid to die? Did she not feel pain?

He’d never seen anyone who’d kill themselves. If she was unhappy, she could have taken a blade to kill him! How could she turn it on herself? How could she kill herself?

"Call the imperial physician!" Emperor Xingyuan pressed his hand against her neck, trying to clamp down on the bleeding with his palm, but it seeped relentlessly through his fingers, wrenching his chest, his heart stabbed with pain.

"Call the imperial physician!" he roared a second time.

"You dare die, Liu Yandai!" He was terrified. He regretted everything. He couldn’t bear to lose her again. He even threw himself down, pressing close to her ear as he shouted, "If you die, I’ll have your uncle buried with you!"

No, she thought. If she died, her uncle would only be free of a burden.

Liu Yandai refused to look at him, closing her eyes instead.

She never wanted to see him again.