After Entering The Abusive Novel, I Became The Empress - Chapter 32

The seats in the examination hall were partitioned; aside from the person directly across, Qin Yuqing couldn’t see anyone else.

She recalled the exam papers she had seen in the modern museum—displayed behind glass, the handwriting neat, without a single correction, so clean it looked like it had been printed rather than brushed by hand.

After composing her thoughts, Qin Yuqing took a deep breath and began writing seriously. To say she wasn’t nervous would be a lie. The education and culture of her modern era and this time period were vastly different. All she could do was respond to the Emperor’s questions based on her own understanding, blending the novel’s plot with the information she had learned in recent days.

What is the common people of the realm?
The people are the foundation of a dynasty; they live through floods and chaos, yet also flourish in times of prosperity. They toil in the soil of Great Yin…

Once she started, though not quite like a spring of endless words, at least her brush flowed smoothly.

Qin Yuqing guessed the Emperor’s choice of question was tied to the current situation of Great Yin. It was not only a test of the scholars’ understanding but also a veiled warning to corrupt officials—that their deeds had not escaped his eyes, an implicit reference to the scandal of the corrupted examinations.

Her and Lu Jingchuan’s ruthless actions had left many ministers resentful. Yet, the outcome was clear: poor students no longer had to worry about being denied the chance at glory for lack of a teacher’s patronage. Still, when it came to court politics, many officials voiced their opposition—such reforms cut directly into their interests.

They accused the Sixth Princess and Lu Jingchuan of being ruthless and merciless, killing without hesitation, unwilling to hear reason—qualities, they said, unbefitting loyal ministers.

The impeachment grew louder and louder. On the day the protests reached their peak, Lu Jingchuan strode into court with a dark red sword in hand. He exposed the secrets of several officials and delivered a cold threat:

“I hold far more than just this,” he said, pointing his sword at the loudest critic, his face like frost. “You should be grateful your sins do not warrant death.”

From that day, no one dared openly challenge them. Still, the Emperor placed Lu Jingchuan under house confinement, a symbolic gesture for him to temper his violent temper.

But any clear-eyed minister could see—the Emperor was shielding both him and Qin Yuqing. Some began quietly reassessing their allegiances, knowing that once the Sixth Princess finished the exams and the results were posted, it would be the time to decide where they stood.

Across the three days and two nights of the exam, Qin Yuqing answered four questions in total. Each one, in modern terms, was the kind of essay prompt that could wring the soul dry—long and arduous.

From the relationship between officials, commoners, and the dynasty, to how to contain outbreaks of plague in the provinces, every question tied back to the lives of the people.

When she finally laid down her brush, it felt as though a great weight lifted from her chest. The strain of the past days had left her more tense than even the college entrance exams of her past life.

As she put down her pen, Shen Yanqing, who had been stationed by her side these three days, stepped forward to escort her out.

“Thank you for looking after me these past three days, General Shen,” Qin Yuqing said sincerely at the gate. Without her, managing food, water, and daily needs would have been difficult. And behind Shen Yanqing’s efforts, Qin Yuqing knew, lay Lu Jingchuan’s care.

“If you are truly grateful,” Shen Yanqing said after a pause, “you should pay a visit to the Lu residence. After all, it was he who fought for this opportunity for you.”

Her gaze softened, as though she wanted to say more, but in the end only left her with: “Go see him. He’s been waiting for you.”

He’s been waiting for you.
I’ll wait for you.
You lived.

These phrases echoed in Qin Yuqing’s heart. They unsettled her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her being here wasn’t as simple as merely entering a novel. And yet, her memories of modern life were intact—she could be certain of that. Even the system repeatedly stressed that this was nothing more than a fictional world.

Still, the people around her felt so real, so alive, that she couldn’t help but feel as though she truly had once lived here.

【Warning! Warning!】
【This world is the novel Empress. Should the host continue doubting the authenticity of this world, we will erase both it and the host.】

Qin Yuqing: ???

Qin Yuqing: Wait… are you monitoring me?

She frowned. She hated being watched, especially when deep in thought.

【This is standard procedure. The system has the right to know everything about the host.】

“But I don’t like it,” Qin Yuqing snapped inwardly. “You’re violating my privacy.”

【Objection invalid. The process was active the moment you bound with the system.】

“Oh?” Qin Yuqing pulled a small arrowhead from her sleeve and pressed it against her neck. With a cold smile she whispered in her mind, “If I die, your mission fails too.”

The system fell silent. Beneath the static, she could sense its shock and anger—perhaps it had never imagined a host daring such defiance.

“Well?” she pressed, pushing the arrow deeper until bl00d welled against her pale skin. “You don’t have much time. You know I don’t bluff.”

She dared this because she had noticed a flaw: the system had issued warnings before but never acted on them. If it truly had absolute power, it would not waste time talking. Which meant one thing—it could not kill her, at least not now. Perhaps only she could save this world.

Finally, the system’s cold mechanical voice returned:

【The process will not change. However, rest assured, the system will reduce its monitoring of the host.】

Qin Yuqing knew when to quit while ahead. Since it had relented, she lowered the arrow.

“A deal, then.”

The system vanished once more.

Soon, her carriage arrived at the Lu residence. She set aside thoughts of the system for now, though her nerves tightened—Mission Two still hadn’t been marked complete.

As she alighted, she was surprised to see Lu’s father waiting at the gate. She bent to salute, but he stopped her.

“Jingchuan has grown far too arrogant. I ask that Your Highness guide him. He is angry, confined by the Emperor, and has refused food for days.”

His tone was weary yet sincere, not as a general but as a father.

“I beg you, Princess. Persuade him. Don’t let him destroy his health.”

Qin Yuqing understood that refusing now would be to publicly deny his plea. She curtsied deeply and replied earnestly:

“I will do all I can, though the young General may not heed my words. Should that happen, I beg your forgiveness.”

“He will listen,” Lu’s father smiled with relief. “If it’s you, he surely will.”

Puzzled, Qin Yuqing followed the butler toward Lu Jingchuan’s courtyard. Why was everyone so certain he would only listen to her? Shen Yanqing’s words carried the same implication.

Before they reached the door, the stench of wine hit her nose. The butler knocked, but before he could speak, a hoarse voice barked from within:

“Leave me alone!”

“But, young master—it is the Sixth Princess.”

At once came the crash of shattering jars, wine spilling across the floor.

“Young master, are you alright?” the butler asked, reaching for the door. But the voice within, shaky and almost pleading, interrupted:

“I am unwell today. I will not receive guests.”

Qin Yuqing realized he was leaning against the door, barring entry, his words a desperate plea.

“Don’t open it.”

Her chest tightened, a dull ache squeezing her heart until her breath caught. Her nose stung.

She wanted nothing more than to embrace him.

“Leave us,” Qin Yuqing said at last. Lu Jingchuan was still young, still proud; perhaps he didn’t want others to see him like this.

The servants withdrew, leaving only silence.

“Lu Jingchuan, it’s me. Open the door,” Qin Yuqing called softly.

He didn’t move, but she felt his presence on the other side.

“I know you’re listening,” she pressed closer, placing her palm flat against the wood, feeling the faint warmth through it. “Open up. Be good. I need to speak with you.”

His voice came hoarse, straining against something within:

“Tomorrow… I’ll come to you tomorrow, Your Highness.”

“But I can’t wait that long.”

It was as though dead branches suddenly sprouted new buds, as though withered flowers dared to bloom again.

“You…”

She felt his weight shift, the pressure against the door easing. In that instant, she kicked it open.

He staggered back, nearly falling.

The room reeked of wine. Broken jars littered the floor, shards glinting in the mess.

Qin Yuqing’s heart twisted at the sight, but anger rose above sorrow.

All this over feelings alone? To shut himself in, drowning in wine?

“It’s time you came out into the sun,” she snapped, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the garden pavilion. “The weather’s too fine for sulking in a dark room.”

He sat stiffly, head bowed like a scolded child.

Qin Yuqing cupped his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. Only then did she see—the red rims, the flushed nose and ears, the eyes brimming with tears, his cheeks streaked with the dried tracks of grief.

In that instant, the walls she had built around her heart shattered.

“You’ve been crying?”

Lu Jingchuan jerked free, trying to turn away, but she caught his arm.

“I don’t remember anything,” she admitted, heart pounding. Perhaps this was reckless, but she could no longer stumble blindly through the mission. She needed answers.

“But if you believe I am still me, then I beg you—help me seek the truth of this world.”

This time, it was Lu Jingchuan who looked up, shock and joy flickering across his face.

“Will you… will you accompany me to find the memories we once had?”

His throat bobbed. His voice was ragged, his tears falling anew.

“I will.”