"No, no…"
She shook her head frantically. To the fake Nan Shiying, the smiling face lit by the candlelight was even more terrifying than Qin Yurou’s ferocious, ghost-like appearance.
Blood flowed slowly down her eyes and cheeks. However, the fear that seemed to consume her made her oblivious to her physical pain. She just wanted to get further and further away from this demon.
"You don't want to drink~"
Nan Shiying sighed with a hint of regret. She set the teacup aside and then, in the gentlest tone, said to the fake Nan Shiying, "Since you're not thirsty, would you mind introducing yourself to me? Oh, right, try to be detailed. If you don't say enough, I'll assume you were thirsty."
At this moment, her smile reflected in the fake Nan Shiying’s eyes was like a demon standing at the edge of an abyss, extending its evil hands towards someone on a cliff’s edge.
The fake Nan Shiying, her courage completely shattered, dared not conceal anything. She blurted everything out, "I, my name is Qing Yuan…"
The fake Nan Shiying finally had a name; she was Qing Yuan.
Rather than calling her a maid in the Nan mansion, it was more accurate to say she was a death warrior raised by Nan Chaoyun, and there were many such death warriors.
A court official raising death warriors?
Nan Shiying frowned slightly but did not interrupt Qing Yuan.
As Qing Yuan narrated, Nan Shiying finally understood why Nan Chaoyun had been so confident in having her impersonate him. Besides being a death warrior, they had all been fed a poison since childhood.
A poison that could not be completely eradicated, only suppressed by short-term antidotes.
This was Nan Chaoyun’s method of control.
After revealing everything she knew, Qing Yuan looked at Nan Shiying with pleading eyes. She knew she had no chance of survival and only wished for a painless death.
Having learned what she wanted to know, Nan Shiying grabbed Qing Yuan by the neck and twisted it with a forceful turn, easily snapping her spine. It was quick and painless.
Watching Qing Yuan’s pupils widen in an instant before gradually losing their light, Nan Shiying turned, grabbed Qin Yurou by her collar, and pulled her up. She placed Qin Yurou’s hand on Qing Yuan’s neck, then picked up the drugged teacup from the side, pinched Qin Yurou’s mouth open, and poured the tea down her throat.
After finishing these actions, Nan Shiying walked out of the room, thoughtfully closing the door behind her.
Her tightly shut eyes rolled rapidly, and the next moment, they snapped open. She lowered her head, looking at her hand resting on the fake Nan Shiying’s neck.
The scene of her snapping the neck replayed in her mind.
“Too cheap for you!”
Qin Yurou snorted coldly. She stood up, tidied her collar, and elegantly walked out of the room.
The maid Xiao Yuan, who was supposed to be waiting outside Xingyuan Pavilion, had vanished. Qin Yurou cursed and turned towards Linglong Pavilion.
After Qin Yurou left, Nan Shiying returned to the room. The stench of blood was too strong, mixed with the fragrance of Muyao flowers and irises, making her head throb. She pushed open the window and threw out the Muyao flowers along with their pots.
Then, she shouted towards the door, "Xuan Yi, get to work!"
Xuan Yi cast a wronged glance at Ji Jinmo, his eyes full of hope that his master would rescue him from this inferno. In the end, he resigned himself to the fact that hoping for his master to save him from the Princess Consort was less likely than hoping the Princess Consort would show mercy and let him go.
Xuan Yi lowered his head and dejectedly walked into the room.
He first carried out Qing Yuan’s corpse, then returned to the room to clean up.
Thirteen shot him a sympathetic glance. Just as a hint of schadenfreude began to surface in his eyes, it was quashed by Ji Jinmo’s words: "Go help."
Thirteen’s head snapped up, and he looked at his Prince with disbelief. He felt that ever since the Princess Consort had entered the mansion, the Prince had changed.
“Hmm?” Ji Jinmo slowly lifted his eyelids. The red glow in his eyes seemed to spread like blood throughout the room. He didn't need to say anything more. A mere hum from his nostrils was enough to instill a deep sense of fear in Thirteen.
Thirteen shivered all over and quickly scrambled inside.
Everything Qing Yuan had used was packed and thrown out of the room by Nan Shiying. Xuan Yi and Thirteen squatted on the floor, cleaning the blood-soaked ground. Their gazes met in the air, and they couldn't help but pity each other, and themselves.
When had they, the Xuan Guards, ever done work like clearing a battlefield?
Alas!
A sense of melancholy washed over them.
Leaning against the newly tidied bed, Nan Shiying looked at Ji Jinmo, who had arrived uninvited. Bai Zhi was sleeping soundly in the outer room, so the task of making tea fell to Xuan Yi again. With a silent, tearful heart, he fetched new tea sets, brewed the tea, and then wisely retreated outside the door.
“My Lord, this concubine is tired.”
Watching Ji Jinmo pick up the teacup and slowly savor it, Nan Shiying rolled her eyes in exasperation. *Seriously, can’t you see I’m already lying on the bed?*
*Do you really need me to ask you to leave?*
Ji Jinmo nodded, but showed no intention of leaving. He fiddled with the teacup lid, placing it on the cup. The crisp clinking sound of the two colliding was clearly deliberate. Then, he slowly raised his eyes, his gaze, which seemed to contain ice chips, falling gently upon Nan Shiying.
Nan Shiying felt a chill run down her spine. She inched closer to the edge of the bed, trying to use the hanging bed curtain to shield herself from his deathly stare.
“My Lord…”
Nan Shiying twitched the corner of her mouth, unsure why this Lord was acting so eccentrically again.
Ji Jinmo watched her futile attempt to hide, a faint smile involuntarily rising to his lips. However, the ice chips in his eyes still flickered with a deep, cold light. This smile was more unsettling than a flower blooming on a corpse, making Nan Shiying’s scalp tingle.
She put on a mournful face and said to him, “My Lord, this concubine is no longer tired. Can you please stop smiling?”
Weak, humble, helpless, pitiful!
Seeing her like this, the sour and indescribable emotion that had been lingering in Ji Jinmo’s heart slowly dissipated. He had originally wanted to ask about the matter in Yuzhou, but seeing the faint blueish tinge under her eyes and the hint of fatigue at the corners of her eyes, he suddenly felt a pang of reluctance.
He stood up and said to her, “Rest.”
With that, he turned and left.
Nan Shiying blinked her eyes in confusion as she watched Ji Jinmo’s retreating back.
*Seriously, what’s wrong with you?!*