After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 10

The Qingxuan Pavilion was vast but desolate. Most of the flowers and trees in the southern garden had already withered, leaving the ground littered with fallen leaves, stirred by the wind. Had she not seen it herself, Qun Qing would never have imagined that her former rival, Concubine Zheng, lived in such poor conditions.

It had been a long time since Qun Qing had done any menial labor, so she wasn’t particularly skilled at sweeping the courtyard. Lan Yue hurried over with a bucket of water and tossed it onto the ground.

“You’ll have to wipe down the inside of the pavilion too.”

“Yes,” Qun Qing replied.

Lan Yue, Zheng Zhi Yi’s personal maid—the same one who had reminded her of the rules earlier—stood under the eaves, sneering with disdain as she watched Qun Qing behave obediently.

“What good is cunning if it doesn’t get you anywhere?”

Qun Qing remained silent as she dumped the fallen leaves into the southern garden’s enclosure. She didn’t mind. During the palace maid selection, she had fully embraced the role of fawning and trampling on others, leaving a bad impression on the other maids.

Before fully understanding the inner workings of the Qingxuan Pavilion, Qun Qing followed Lady Zhang’s advice: keep her head down.

Inside the hall, Lan Yue sat down with a book in hand. The sleeping quarters of Zheng Zhi Yi were a chaotic mess, a result of trying on all her clothes. Now barefoot in the midst of the disorder, she asked,

“Has the Crown Prince summoned me?”

“The Crown Prince is very busy…”

“What about the Empress?”

Lan Yue hesitated, reluctant to tell her the truth:

“Her Majesty is also very busy…”

“I want to see the Crown Prince. I want him to give me something to do,” Zheng Zhi Yi said, her eyes welling with tears. After all, she was still just a young lady in her teens.

“Let me cook, or raise horses. Where’s Yang Fu? Has she seen the Crown Prince? Is Li Xuan with her?”

Lan Yue quickly embraced her.

“My lady, you’re a concubine now. There’s no need for you to do such things!”

“What… Yang Fu is sick again? I was hoping to scold her to relieve my boredom. How is she so fragile? That Princess of Chu has a heart as small as a needle’s tip. When will she get better?”

Eavesdropping nearby, a few words reached Qun Qing’s ears, freezing her in place. Zheng Zhi Yi was not at all as she had remembered.

In her previous life, Qun Qing had only recalled Zheng Zhi Yi’s reckless words, her constant mockery of Yang Fu’s frailties, and the endless conflicts between the two that made the princess lose her appetite and weep often. At the time, Qun Qing, concerned for the princess, had assumed Zheng Zhi Yi was malicious and had shown no mercy in dealing with her. Little did she realize that the troublemaking stemmed from loneliness.

Zheng Zhi Yi wept, while in the large courtyard, faint laughter from other palace maids drifted in the background, accompanied by a girl’s cries for mercy.

The three other maids of Qingxuan Pavilion—Ah Meng, Ah Jiang, and Ruo Chan—were playing cards at a stone table in the northern garden. Ruo Chan’s face was covered in paper slips representing debts, and the two maids had clipped a silver clothespin to her nose.

Qun Qing, who preferred to stay low-key, passed by them but stopped when she heard Ruo Chan’s miserable cries. She turned back and said,

“Isn’t it against palace rules to play cards?”

“Don’t worry,” Ah Meng said as she threw down a card with force. “No one ever comes here. Even if we break the rules, no one will see.”

Since Zheng Zhi Yi had been conferred the title of concubine, Crown Prince Li Xuan had only visited once. It had been half a year since he last set foot in Qingxuan Pavilion, turning the place into a near-cold palace. With no interest in managing affairs, Zheng Zhi Yi had let the maids grow increasingly lazy and unruly.

Qun Qing reached over and gently removed the clothespin from Ruo Chan’s nose. Glancing at her briefly, she smiled faintly.

“Don’t you know why she’s crying so loudly? It hurts. It’ll leave a scar.”

Ruo Chan, surprised, stared at Qun Qing in disbelief, as if she couldn’t comprehend someone caring about such a trivial matter. Her eyes and nose were red from crying.

Without further comment, Qun Qing walked away.

Ah Meng and Ah Jiang exchanged astonished glances, watching her leave. Ah Meng smirked and said,

“Ruo Chan, looks like someone’s stepping in for you now.”

They gave Ruo Chan a threatening nudge.

“Go on, then!”

Still sobbing, Ruo Chan tossed a rag at Qun Qing’s feet as she was sweeping the front courtyard.

“You can clean the side hall too.”

Tearfully clutching her skirt, Ruo Chan stared at the ground, too afraid to meet Qun Qing’s eyes. She didn’t notice a skylark fluttering down from the trees, briefly landing on Qun Qing’s shoulder before flying off.

Qun Qing calmly picked up the rag and concealed the small wax pellet the skylark had dropped.

“Since I have so much work to do, I’ll probably be back late tonight. Make sure to leave a light on for me.”

She walked around the guilt-stricken Ruo Chan and continued her tasks.

As dusk fell and the sky darkened, a meeting had just concluded at Tai Ji Hall. In the dim light, it was difficult to make out the faces of the palace servants and officials moving in and out, their ranks discernible only by the colors of their robes.

Hidden behind a tall cluster of cypress trees, Qun Qing waited. Moments later, a man in a pale pink robe appeared beside her.

“Sixth Sister, what’s going on?”

She turned and saw the familiar, handsome face of Lin Yu Jia, her childhood friend who, like her, had also become a spy for Southern Chu.

Her recent actions had drawn the attention of other spies in the palace, and Lin Yu Jia had sent the skylark to arrange this meeting—most likely to question her behavior.

“We had everything planned out,” Lin Yu Jia said, his face a mix of frustration and confusion. “You were supposed to align with Princess Bao An, have her recommend you for a position in the Six Ministries. If that didn’t work, you could retreat to the Palace of the Embroidered Court and wait for another chance. Who is this Concubine Zheng anyway? None of us know her! She doesn’t even have any of our people in her palace, making it impossible to pass messages.”

That’s exactly what I wanted, Qun Qing thought silently. Lin Yu Jia, always seeking glory, often assigned her impossible tasks.

In her previous life, her first assassination mission had come at the end of this very year. Back then, she hadn’t known how to kill, but out of desperation to stay alive, she had excelled. From that moment on, she had been handed one assassination after another, transforming her from a scholarly companion to the princess into a cold-blooded killer.

Qun Qing no longer wanted that path. If she allowed Lin Yu Jia to reconnect with her easily, she would inevitably be drawn back into a life of bloodshed, one that would lead to her early death once again.

She needed time to rest and recover. Fortunately, the cook in Concubine Zheng’s palace was quite skilled, and the food was excellent.

As these thoughts swirled in her mind, Qun Qing maintained a calm exterior. After a long pause, she spoke in a measured tone,

“Tell the princess that I have my reasons. Zheng Zhi Yi and the princess are at odds—she constantly seeks to harm her. You saw it yourself today when she even tried to strike the princess. I’m more valuable within Zheng Zhi Yi’s palace, and I have a chance to get close to the Crown Prince.”

Lin Yu Jia stared at the side of her face, recognizing the cool, restrained demeanor that had once drawn him in. Guilt welled up within him, ashamed for doubting her just moments earlier.

Qun Qing had always been decisive—he knew this from childhood. She was an effective weapon in espionage, but using such a sharp blade carried the risk of being wounded by it. As her superior, Lin Yu Jia found this a constant source of unease.

Qun Qing cared too much for the princess, often losing sight of the larger picture due to personal emotions. Her mind worked in roundabout ways, infiltrating the enemy to help the princess in her own subtle manner.

“You mean to say you can control Zheng Zhi Yi, secretly help the princess become Crown Princess, and eventually influence the Crown Prince?” Lin Yu Jia sighed deeply. “You’re confused, short-sighted! What could a bandit’s daughter possibly accomplish? She’s insignificant, not worth your time. There’s no need for you to get involved. Besides, she’s already fallen out of favor. Li Xuan, the Crown Prince, is not someone you can easily approach.”

Lin Yu Jia flicked his sleeve, his tone growing colder.

“Instead of wasting time on Li Xuan, we’d make quicker progress advising Princess Bao An to submit to Prince Yan.”

Qun Qing’s gaze sharpened, cold as a blade.

“So eager—why don’t you submit yourself?”

Lin Yu Jia froze, speechless.

“Every time we discuss the princess, you become unreasonable.”

“Seeing how upset you are, you know how degrading submission is,” Qun Qing said with a dark chuckle. “When the palace fell, Prince Yan forced himself on the princess, even wounding her. Just because a woman possesses beauty, does that mean she’s born to endure such humiliation?”

Lin Yu Jia’s face paled. Coming from a prominent family of scholars and officials, he had read countless books and fancied himself a scholar. Yet the look in Qun Qing’s eyes made him feel utterly humiliated, igniting a rage so fierce it bordered on madness.

He took a deep breath.

“The only reason you have the luxury of speaking so sharply here is because I’ve smoothed things over with our master. Without me, you’d already be in trouble. What’s with that look? How could you even suggest I’d report your actions to our master?”

Qun Qing paused, her mind racing. The Crown Prince had already proclaimed himself emperor in Huai’an, founding the Southern Chu Kingdom. The distance between Southern Chu and Chang’an was vast, separated by mountains and rivers. And yet, despite this great distance, her every move seemed known to him.

“Could there be other spies in the palace, reporting to the Crown Prince?” she murmured, voicing her suspicions aloud.

Lin Yu Jia sneered.

“Naive, aren’t you? There are two ‘Celestial’ spies in the palace, and even I don’t know who they are.” Realizing he had said too much, he quickly bit his tongue.

Qun Qing’s gaze lingered on him, then she smiled faintly.

“I thought you were in charge of everyone in the palace. Seems I was wrong.”

Suddenly, Lin Yu Jia grabbed her hand. Sensing her attempt to pull away, he tightened his grip.

“Qing Qing, stop trying to extract information from me. You’re just an Elite agent. Focus on your tasks and stop digging into the Celestial spies.”

The Southern Chu’s spy network had been meticulously constructed by a strategist known as the Celestial Master, a genius who had spent decades perfecting it while still serving the Emperor of Chu, long before the kingdom’s fall.

There were four strict ranks among the Southern Chu spies: Celestial, Elite, Ground, and Base. Each higher level oversaw those below, while the lower tiers had no knowledge of the identities of their superiors. This created an intricate and tightly woven network.

By the first year of Shenglin’s reign, over a hundred Southern Chu spies operated in Chang’an, stealing military secrets and carrying out acts of sabotage. Even though Emperor Chen Ming had seized the throne, his position was far from stable. The Li family was in turmoil, plagued by sleepless nights and headaches as they dealt with the infiltration. They responded with brutal purges—any discovered spies were killed on sight. In her previous life, Qun Qing had been among the last spies to die.

Even though the hope of restoring the Southern Chu kingdom had long been lost, the Celestial Master had established a brutal rule: if a spy found another betraying Southern Chu, they were to kill them immediately or face the same fate. This command turned the spies against one another, leading to desperate killings.

Qun Qing did not fear the Crown Prince, and Lin Yu Jia no longer posed a threat. But the mysterious and ruthless Celestial Master—whom she both feared and despised—was a different story altogether.

In both her past and present lives, Qun Qing had always been categorized as “Elite level.” Now, with Lin Yu Jia’s revelation that two Celestial agents were stationed in the palace, it meant there were at least two pairs of eyes watching her from the shadows, apart from Lin Yu Jia. She had no idea who they were.

With the palace actively hunting for spies, these two Celestial agents would be monitoring her every move. If she displayed any signs of betrayal toward Southern Chu, they would kill her without hesitation.

Qun Qing was in deep trouble.

If Heaven had a form, she would have grabbed it by the collar and screamed, “Why didn’t you let me reincarnate before entering the palace?!”

Qun Qing lowered her head, staring at the lines on her palm. Her lifeline seemed so long, yet her reality—being caught in this deadly vortex—made it excruciatingly difficult to gain control over her own destiny.

“Qing Qing, don’t be afraid,” Lin Yu Jia said, pulling her into his arms. “Once this is all over, and Chu is restored, I’ll marry you. We’ll live a peaceful life together. I don’t care if your face never recovers. I’ll protect you from living in fear.”

Qun Qing’s body stiffened. A surge of sorrow threatened to surface, but she pushed it back just as quickly. She pushed him away, her voice steady.

“Why did you call me here? Hurry up, I need to leave before the palace lights are lit.”

As night fully descended and the lamps in Taiji Palace flickered to life, Qun Qing knew the palace gates would soon close. All eight entrances would be sealed, and attendants would begin standing guard at every hall. Once that happened, leaving would be impossible.

Lin Yu Jia quickly scrawled something on her palm: ‘castor oil.’

She raised an eyebrow.

“What do you need half a jin of castor oil for?”

This wasn’t a small amount—half a jin was far more than just an ounce or two.

“Don’t ask questions. Just bring it back and bury it under this tree,” he replied curtly.

“Castor oil is used medicinally, and all palace drugs are recorded and monitored,” Qun Qing pointed out. “If you need this much, you’ll have to buy it from the East or West Market. But I’m just a maid here—I can’t leave the palace whenever I want, and you know that. Wouldn’t it be easier for you to send someone else?”

Lin Yu Jia’s frustration showed as he replied,

“Who said I haven’t tried? But it’s not enough—nowhere near enough! And I’ve been swamped with work, barely any time to breathe. You’ve always been reasonable, so why can’t you just help me out this once?”

Seeing his agitation, Qun Qing couldn’t help but ask,

“What are you so busy with?”

“You’ll see,” Lin Yu Jia said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “In a few months, I’ll accomplish something big.”

But when Qun Qing pressed him for more details, his expression hardened.

“Qing Qing, if you keep refusing, I’ll start thinking you’ve really had a change of heart.”

Calming herself, Qun Qing realized that she wouldn’t get anything more out of him. They both hurried out before the palace lights fully illuminated.

When Qun Qing returned to Qingxuan Pavilion, she scrubbed her hand—the one Lin Yu Jia had held—clean in a bucket of water.

In her past life, she’d never received any mission involving castor oil. Could her rebirth have somehow altered the flow of events?

Lin Yu Jia’s behavior was already suspicious. She couldn’t approach this mission lightly. She had to figure out what he was planning. If he wanted to risk his life, that was one thing, but she feared he might pull her down with him.

She hadn’t forgotten how Lin Yu Jia had betrayed both her and the Princess within half a day of being captured by Lu Huating in her previous life.

With two Celestial agents closely observing her in the palace, she knew she couldn’t keep evading the dangerous missions forever. Her only way out was to leave the palace—but escaping alone was nearly impossible.

The courtyard was silent, save for the soft chirping of insects. Sitting down, Qun Qing mimicked a bird call, then pulled a hollow wax pellet from her sleeve and tossed it into the grass. Moments later, a skylark swooped down, collected the message, and flew away.

It was late when Qun Qing finally returned to her residence. To her surprise, Ruo Chan had left a lamp burning for her. A warm, orange glow shone through the window.

Just as she approached the door, though, she heard Ruo Chan sobbing inside, pleading for mercy. Before she could step forward, the light suddenly went out.

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