After Entering The Abusive Novel, I Became The Empress - chapter 10

The dark bamboo forest rustled as a carriage sped past, scattering fallen leaves.

Suddenly, a flash of cold light cut through the air—an arrow pierced the side of the carriage, only to be caught in one swift motion by Lu Jingchuan.

At the same time, Qin Yuqing snapped her eyes open. Before she could even wonder why she had been lying in Lu Jingchuan’s arms, the carriage jolted to a sudden stop.

“Assassins, my lords!” the coachman’s voice was sharp and urgent. “Protect yourselves, I’ll be right back!” His words barely ended before the clash of blades rang outside.

Qin Yuqing sensed something was wrong, but there was no time to think.

“I can protect myself,” she said calmly, crouching down in place. Conveniently, the carriage’s low tables and cushions blocked her slender figure from sight.

“Take them alive,” came a rough order outside.

Lu Jingchuan didn’t hesitate. He nodded once, turned, and leapt from the carriage. He knew if the fight dragged on, reinforcements would come.

Peeking through the curtain, Qin Yuqing pressed close, eyes fixed on the chaos outside. Her vision was limited, but she could make out the figures—all in black, bamboo hats pulled low, faces masked.

What unsettled her most was how alike they looked—in the moonlight, it was as if they were all clones of the same man.

She had to figure out a few things.

Who wanted them dead?
Had General Lu Zhong’s letter been seen by others?
How had these assassins known their exact route?
If they had been shadowing them all along, why hadn’t she noticed?

Everything seemed to follow the book’s plot, yet in the wrong direction. In the novel, Lu Jingchuan was ambushed after the birthday banquet too—but in the Lu family residence, not here.

“System, my life is in danger, help me!”

【Detected: host not in mortal danger. Assistance unavailable.】

The response stunned her. Did it mean she was safe only because Lu Jingchuan was here?

Gradually, the sounds of fighting faded. The carriage rocked as weight shifted, and then two figures sat at the front. A moment later, a bound and unconscious assassin was thrown inside.

His arms and legs were tied, his jaw brutally dislocated so his mouth gaped open uselessly.

“Stay inside. I’ll guard you,” Lu Jingchuan’s voice was hoarse. “We have to leave. This place is wrong.”

“Hold tight!” the coachman called, whipping the reins. The carriage jolted forward through the bamboo forest.

“You’re hurt?” Qin Yuqing glanced at the unconscious assassin, then back at Lu Jingchuan’s voice. Something in her chest tightened. “I brought medicine.”

“Just thirsty,” he muttered, taking water from the coachman. “It’s nothing serious.”

“I’m fine too, don’t worry.” She grabbed a pot of tea and poured it over the captive’s face. “Wake up, don’t you dare fall asleep.”

“Be careful,” came the cool, quiet voice tinged with concern. “Don’t kill him. Though… if you do, it’s fine.”

“If he dies, I’ll take the blame,” Qin Yuqing replied, slapping the captive’s face. Her hand stung red. “Stop faking. Your breathing’s off—I know you’re awake.”

The man’s throat worked, his muscles spasmed, and his eyes bulged with rage at her.

“Don’t glare at me. I wasn’t the one who dislocated your jaw. Blame him.” She pointed innocently at the man outside. “Stare all you want—I still can’t fix your jaw.”

“…Yes. I did it,” Lu Jingchuan confirmed flatly.

Qin Yuqing chuckled. “See? He admitted it.”

She crouched, rummaging through the carriage. “Here’s the deal: you’re in my hands now. Behave and talk, you’ll suffer less. Fall into his hands, though…”

Her smile deepened. “Skin peeled, tendons ripped, flesh stripped from bone.”

Lu Jingchuan stayed silent, but this time he didn’t contradict her. His quiet cooperation delighted her.

Unfortunately, the captive had spine. He clamped his eyes shut, refusing to answer.

Qin Yuqing picked up a jug of water and a stack of paper, laying one sheet gently across his face. “I’m just a woman. I don’t know torture. I’ll use something gentler.”

Water trickled down, soaking the paper until it clung airtight to his skin.

“This might take a while. Don’t worry—it won’t kill you.”

Her fingers pressed the damp paper snug over his face, smoothing out the air pockets.

“Ever tried this before? Wet paper can kill. Slowly, you’ll feel your breath choking. Instinct will tell you to gasp with your mouth, to rip the paper free.” Her smile grew colder. “But your jaw’s broken. You can’t.”

More water dripped. Another sheet pressed down, sealing tighter.

His bound hands clawed uselessly at the floorboards. In the dark, only her soft voice and the drip of water filled his ears.

“Hmm… maybe one more sheet,” she murmured, laying it down gently. “Your breath is trapped, your sight smothered. Soon, all your world will be nothing but damp, suffocating paper.”

Her voice was honeyed, but carried the weight of hell itself—sweet, deadly, irresistible. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you die.”

She peeled the layers away, watching his chest heave violently. “Ready? Here we go again.”

Outside, Lu Jingchuan glanced in through the curtain. He caught sight of the captive’s bluish face and shivered. Thank the heavens… he had never crossed Qin Yuqing.

The next sheet pressed down. The man’s spirit cracked. He’d tasted slow suffocation once already—he couldn’t endure it again.

“Mmmph! Mmmph!”

He broke.

“Oh? Already giving in?” Qin Yuqing sighed, peeling the sheets away. “You’re the weakest I’ve ever seen.”

“Talk. Who sent you?”

“A secret order… don’t know the master,” the assassin gasped. “Carriage… hour of the ox… Xiangshan bamboo forest…”

“Whose men are you?”

“Don’t know. We’re raised in pens.”

“You mean, you were locked away since childhood, only let out to kill when orders came?”

“Yes.”

“How are the orders delivered?”

“Carrier pigeons.”

“And the pigeons?”

“…We eat them. Not one left alive.”

So—no trail at all. These men never saw their master, didn’t even know their prison’s location.

Qin Yuqing narrowed her eyes, lips curving. “Then tell me. How many have you killed?”

“Too many. I can’t remember.”

“One last question.” She touched the hairpin in her bun, the one Chuntao had pressed into her hand at the banquet as a charm for safety.

“Who have you killed?”

“Rebellious peasants… tax-evading landlords… ministers named in secret orders… too many to recall…”

His mind, already shattered, begged only for release. Anything to stop hearing her voice.

“I see.” She drew the hairpin free, poised to silence him forever—

—but Lu Jingchuan ducked inside, catching her wrist and covering her eyes.

A scream rang out, wet and final. When his hand lifted, the assassin was gone.

“Don’t stain yourself,” he murmured.

Qin Yuqing laughed softly. “That’s adorable of you. But it’s not dirty. He deserved it.”