After Entering The Abusive Novel, I Became The Empress - chapter 24

“The God’s successor?” Qin Yuqing rubbed the teacup in her hand. She did not doubt Park Qinghe’s words. “And how do you know of this?”

Park Qinghe let out a long sigh. His usual careless air disappeared as he said solemnly:
“When the Park clan was wiped out, I happened to be trapped in the mountains. On my way down, I slipped and fell into a ravine. You don’t know what it was like—floodwaters surged in an instant, swallowing me whole. The icy torrent was like a merciless beast…”

“Make it short,” Qin Yuqing interrupted. She could already guess he was about to launch into a lengthy tale of miraculous escape.

Park Qinghe gave a cold snort, rose to his feet, and as he walked back into the room he continued, “When I woke up, I was already in Bizhou.” He returned with a large map of the Great Yin, spreading it flat across the table. “Here is the capital. Bizhou lies to the far west. Between them runs the Flowing Crystal River.”

Qin Yuqing clearly did not believe Park Qinghe had simply drifted along the river all the way to Bizhou.

“I awoke in a temple. A mute old man had found me on the riverbank and nursed me back. I didn’t believe it possible for someone to float from the capital to Bizhou alive, so I asked around. That’s when I learned—fifteen days had already passed since the Park family’s downfall.”

“Fifteen days… it’s enough to reach Bizhou,” Qin Yuqing murmured, tracing the points on the map. His expression wasn’t feigned. Someone had transported him all the way to Bizhou while he was unconscious.

“Yes. But I have no memory of those fifteen days. Someone moved me while I was comatose, leaving me on the riverbank. A beggar—blind, deaf, indistinct—picked me up.”

He frowned. He truly had no leads. The Park clan had not offended anyone that he knew of. Even the matter of privately minting coins, he claimed to be ignorant of.

“When I’d barely recovered, someone tossed a leather pouch full of gold ingots in front of me at midnight. That’s when I realized—I had been assigned a contract.” Park Qinghe pulled a shriveled leather pouch from under the table. Inside lay a yellowed slip of paper: Kill the God’s successors—the twins. Thirty taels of gold, advance payment.

“A contract killing.” Qin Yuqing didn’t need to think twice. Such a plotline had not existed in the original book. Although the system constantly emphasized that this was the ‘original world,’ she still carried doubts.

“Do you know who sent the contract?” She rubbed the rough leather, its crude stitching clearly the work of an unskilled hand.

“No.” Park Qinghe explained further, realizing that palace women like Qin Yuqing wouldn’t be familiar with such underworld rules. “The issuer never shows themselves. They can place a contract through any channel. The receiver cannot refuse once it’s assigned.”

Qin Yuqing nodded. That lead was useless. Her gaze shifted to the frightened twins beside her. After some thought, she asked, “But you still haven’t told me—how did you know they were the God’s successors?”

“Patience, Your Highness.” His roguish grin returned. “The day after I received the contract, a strange nursery rhyme began spreading across Bizhou.”

“The God’s fury, the God’s wrath, divine punishment descends upon the world.
The Goddess weeps, the High Shaman mourns, the God’s successors lost among men.”

The girl, Xiaolu, suddenly lifted her head. Golden light flickered in her eyes as she sang the final line, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond:

“The savior, the soul-reverse body, ascends the Nine Dragon Throne to return home.”

Qin Yuqing’s heart gave a jolt. Savior? Soul-reverse? Who are they supposed to be? And what does it mean—to return home? Whoever it was, she would find them. No one would obstruct her path to becoming empress and returning to the modern world.

“Forgive us, Princess.” The boy’s trembling voice accompanied the heavy thud of knees hitting the floor. Qin Yuqing turned, baffled by the sight of Xiaowu and Xiaolu prostrating in panic.

“What is this? Did you poison me or something?” She gestured for Chun Tao, who hurried forward to lift the twins back into their seats.

“So this is the oracle,” Park Qinghe muttered in wonder. He glanced at Qin Yuqing. Her face bore none of the greed he expected toward the Arhan twins. Truly, she was different.

“Why are you staring? Do I have words written on my face?” Qin Yuqing rolled her eyes. Her mind was a mess—the clues didn’t fit the supposed ‘plot,’ and both the system and the people were strange.

“Unbelievable. That nursery rhyme is an oracle.” He downed his tea in one gulp. “The successors can only be twins. In Arhan, twins are already rare. Those qualified to be God’s successors rarer still.”

“And there was once a pair most unusual—born of no known parents, origins unknown. They were discovered in a snowstorm by the former High Shaman of Arhan. The boy was raised as a shaman candidate, the girl displayed the traits of a goddess from childhood.”

“But without knowing their faces, how could you be sure?” Qin Yuqing spun her teacup thoughtfully. If the twins truly had lost their memories after surviving an assassination, then their seller—Qin Youran—couldn’t have been ignorant.

“The girl’s face was cold and delicate, with bright, limpid eyes. Black hair streaked with a few strands of gold. When delivering an oracle, her eyes would glimmer with light. The boy, dour and quiet, had hair the color of grayish yellow—striking under the sun.”

As his words fell, a shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds, landing upon the twins.

Qin Yuqing hadn’t paid them much attention earlier. Now, Xiaowu’s ashen-yellow hair stood out clearly, his eyes themselves a shade of gray. Xiaolu’s limpid eyes shimmered faintly with gold, strands of golden hair glinting amid her black locks.

Park Qinghe fetched two straw hats and placed them on the twins’ heads with a sigh. “When I rushed to the cliff, I only saw a crowd above. The twins had already leapt, gone without a trace. Who would’ve thought I’d find them, after all, in Your Highness’s hands.”

Qin Yuqing shook her head, watching the siblings squirm anxiously on the stone stools, afraid of being abandoned again, or worse—sent back to some auction block.

“I bought them from Qin Youran.” She explained briefly what had transpired, then added, “And don’t call me ‘Princess.’ It sounds awkward. Just Qin Yuqing, or Yuqing.”

Park Qinghe sucked in a breath. His mind raced, then settled on one conclusion. “Then it’s certain—the twins were never meant for you. In other words, Fifth Princess didn’t expect you to get involved.”

Qin Yuqing nodded. She thought the same. At that poetry banquet, was there someone worth such a scheme from Qin Youran?

“That candidate of yours—could she be Qin Youran’s partner?” Park Qinghe asked.

“Impossible.” Qin Yuqing rejected the idea instantly. Li Muyan’s character was absolutely not the type her ambitious fifth sister would ally with.

“Still, there were a few others present.” Aside from herself, Song Yirou, and Qin Youran, five others had been in that elegant hall. “The trouble is, I don’t know who any of them truly were.”

Park Qinghe deflated. He glanced at the twins, then up at the dimming sky. “A clue is a clue, however small. I’ll keep the twins here. Safer than the palace, anyway. You should go.”

Qin Yuqing nodded, satisfied. She rose and left the courtyard.

“Why did you choose me?” Park Qinghe suddenly shouted after her, brandishing a spatula.

“Why did you choose me, a princess?” She threw the question back at him. “Once you’ve made a choice, don’t ask why. Believing me is the same as believing yourself.”

He clicked his tongue, watching her stride away with such ease. A premonition stirred—this Sixth Princess might just overturn the dynasty itself. Perhaps, in her hands, the Park and Lu families truly could rise again.

On the way back, Chun Tao bought a skewer of candied hawthorn and handed it to Qin Yuqing, asking curiously, “Princess, why did you choose him?”

“Because he’s someone outside the rules.” Qin Yuqing bit off a hawthorn, frowned, and handed it back. “Any strawberry ones in there?”

“Strawberry? What’s that?”

Qin Yuqing sighed, sketching with her hands. “A small fruit, bright red, dotted with tiny seeds. Sweet and sour, sometimes very sweet. Swap the hawthorn for strawberries—it’d taste much better.”

Chun Tao nodded, half understanding, but made a mental note. If her mistress wanted it, the master would make it happen.

At that moment, a young woman was dumped unceremoniously onto the roadside by several household servants. A steward standing above sneered, “Let the young lady reflect carefully on who truly rules this house.” With that, he strutted back inside.

A small crowd gathered. Whispers rose.

“What a sin. Such a fine girl, born into such a family.”
“She’s been treated like this since childhood, tossed out whenever they please.”
“Shh! That’s the Prime Minister’s mansion. Careful you don’t lose your head.”
“What’s there to fear? Their worthless son’s ruined countless girls already. If they’re not afraid of ghosts haunting their door, why should I be?”

Listening to the dialect-tinged chatter, Qin Yuqing glanced up at the massive plaque. Sure enough—it was the Prime Minister’s Residence, more imposing even than the palace gates.

“Your family’s plaque is grander than the imperial palace.” Qin Yuqing stepped up beside Song Yirou. “Why kneel? Get up.”

Song Yirou’s face bore helplessness, but mostly numbness. “Thank you for your kindness, Princess, but it isn’t necessary.”

A light drizzle began to fall. Chun Tao produced two umbrellas from somewhere, offering one to her mistress and the other to Song Yirou.

But Song Yirou declined.

Qin Yuqing inhaled deeply. She held respect and pity for this woman. She knew how superstition destroyed lives, but when confronted with it, she felt powerless.

After a moment’s thought, she handed one umbrella back to Chun Tao and opened the other herself, standing close beside Song Yirou.

The rain fell harder. Laughter and the smell of food drifted from within the Prime Minister’s gates.

Song Yirou licked her parched lips, catching raindrops in her hand. Water slid from her fingers, soaking her and Qin Yuqing’s skirts.

Suddenly, she laughed bitterly. She splashed the water over her face, then lifted her head sharply. Her eyes held despair, but beneath it a flicker of desperate will.

She said, “Sixth Princess, I want to gamble.”

“Why the sudden urge to gamble?” Qin Yuqing shifted her umbrella, crouched so their skirts touched the puddles, and hooked a finger under Song Yirou’s chin, making her meet her gaze. “What’s the wager? I’ll play with you.”

Song Yirou shook her head, pale hand gripping Qin Yuqing’s arm. “I want to gamble with myself.”

“Oh? I’m listening.”

“When the examinations end, if you stand atop the mountain, I will come to you with the supply merchants’ information, and work with you.”

“Finally thought it through?” Qin Yuqing smiled, withdrew her hand, and pressed the umbrella into Song Yirou’s grasp. “They don’t understand you as I do—the pain of your talent being buried simply because you’re a woman.”

“Sixth Princess, I await your good news.”

“You’ll be satisfied.”

Chun Tao trailed behind, umbrella in hand, while mistress and maid splashed through puddles, laughing as they went. Their voices faded into the rain.