After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 27
Autumn had arrived, bringing clear skies and crisp air. For the palace maids, the highlight of the season was the day they received their monthly stipends.
Lan Yue beamed, “Did you hear? Qun Qing asked me to collect her payment, and not just hers—everyone’s in our palace! The Supervisor counted and counted; I could barely hold it all before he finished! The other maids were green with envy. Some even mistook me for her. They’d grab my arm, saying, ‘Oh, it’s you, Lady Qing! You were the center of attention at the Autumn Banquet…’”
Meanwhile, Ah Jiang was engrossed in counting money, the room filled with the melodic chime of silver coins.
“You’ve told us this story five times already.”
“Five times? Really?” Lan Yue clapped a hand over her mouth, looking sheepish.
“It’s a shame you weren’t there. You missed such a dazzling banquet! Oh, guess what the monthly pay for the Palace Head Maid is?”
Ah Jiang’s interest was piqued. “Twice what we get?”
“Three times?” guessed Ah Meng.
“Six times!” Lan Yue spread her fingers wide.
“Six times!” Ah Meng and Ah Jiang’s jaws dropped. They stared at the silver in their hands, suddenly feeling it lose its value. They buried their faces in their bedding in disbelief.
“How can it be that much? I can’t even imagine spending that kind of money!”
“If you were outside the palace, you could buy a few bolts of snow-patterned silk, make dresses and cloaks, and get a good supply of fresh fish, meat, and rice cakes,” Ah Meng mused, already daydreaming from her bed.
“All you ever think about is food and clothes!” Ah Jiang scoffed. “Why not save up, buy a small shop in the suburbs, and find a handsome peddler to marry…”
Qun Qing listened to their banter from the side. She carefully threaded ten copper coins together with a red string, arranging them neatly into wooden boxes. These, along with the other rewards she’d received, filled two trunks.
Her freshly washed hair carried the subtle scent of soapweed as she bent over her task. Once finished, she combed her hair and, with a quiet satisfaction, admired her growing accumulation of wealth.
It was ironic—by avoiding major responsibilities, she had saved more in a few months as a maid than she ever did in her past life as a secretary. Ah Jiang’s suggestion of buying a shop seemed reasonable… though she could certainly skip the peddler part.
After distributing the monthly stipends, Qun Qing gathered everyone in Qingxuan Pavilion.
Since the Emperor had promoted Qun Qing to Palace Head Maid, along with the rewards, four new rough-servant maids and two young eunuchs had joined Qingxuan Pavilion. With both the old and new members, the front courtyard now held over ten servants. Everything was arranged to the standards of a Crown Princess’s quarters. Though Emperor Chenming had not officially declared anything, there was an air of expectation, and many wore hopeful expressions.
“Ah Jiang is clever, so you’ll oversee receiving guests, lighting lamps for the Emperor, scheduling inner chamber cleanings, and supervising the small kitchen,” Qun Qing assigned, carefully rearranging everyone’s duties.
“Ah Meng, since you’re quite diligent, you’ll be responsible for managing the southern garden and the schedule for external cleaning.”
Now, with Ah Meng and Ah Jiang both supervising others, the two were assigned to completely separate duties. They exchanged a wistful glance, clearly regretting the change.
Qun Qing remained composed—these two often teamed up to bully others, so separating them was a sensible move.
“Ruochan, you’ll continue handling clothes and sewing. If you’re unsure about anything, come to me,” Qun Qing said.
Ruochan nodded, her cheeks flushing with shyness. Nearby, Lan Yue’s eyes gleamed brighter than the lanterns—she was practically bouncing with anticipation.
“Lan Yue, you’ll return to being a Second Class Palace Maid,” Qun Qing announced.
Jealous looks shot toward Lan Yue, who could barely contain her joy. Only someone who had lost something precious could understand what it meant to regain it.
“Since this is our first official gathering, I’ll add one tael of silver to everyone’s stipend as a welcome gift. I expect you to carry out your duties diligently. Those who perform well will be rewarded, and those who make mistakes will face consequences. You’re dismissed,” Qun Qing concluded.
That’s… it?
As Qun Qing finished speaking, she calmly watched the palace servants with her dark eyes. This was the first time they had encountered such a straightforward and pragmatic approach. After a brief silence, cheers erupted, and they all dispersed.
A female official from the Palace Bureau entered the hall, carrying a wooden tray with a fish-shaped token. Qun Qing had already changed her attire, swapping the wooden fish token at her waist for a brass one. The female official smiled and congratulated her,
“Congratulations, Lady.”
Qun Qing bowed in return. To the official, she appeared remarkably youthful, her face smooth like porcelain, with a faint, cool tint and an air of innocent charm. Yet, when her lashes lowered, she seemed surprisingly detached, as if untouched by the world.
After the official left, Qun Qing began to pack her bedding. Ah Meng and the others helped drag the two chests to the side hall, albeit reluctantly. Ruochan remarked,
“Sister, this apricot has gone moldy. Do you still want it?”
It was the apricot Lu Huating had thrown to her that day, now shriveled and left to wither at the corner of her table.
“Throw it away,” Qun Qing replied.
Her gaze caught on a lantern hanging crookedly on a cabinet; it had gone out, slightly crushed from being pressed down. Pausing at the doorway, she returned to retrieve the piece of trash.
The east side hall, once a place of confinement, was now her living and working quarters. At last, she had a space of her own. Qun Qing organized her desk and bedding, then sat by the light to unseal a wax ball.
This was the wax ball she had received from An Lin that day. Inside was a task directed at the new “assassin” targeting the owner of Siyelou—a mission she intended to intercept.
—Siyelou’s owner, Cui Zhu, possessed a genuine account book containing evidence of collusion with hundreds of officials. Retrieve the account book and deliver it to Censorate official Wang Zhen.
After reading, Qun Qing burned the message to ashes.
Siyelou’s owner had a real account book? It must be well hidden, not something an ordinary person could easily stumble upon.
No wonder An Lin instructed his “assassin” to infiltrate Siyelou disguised as a musician. The plan was to win Cui Zhu’s trust, gather information discreetly, and search the premises for the hidden account book.
But that “assassin” had already failed and died, likely alerting the enemy. Now, Cui Zhu would guard the account book even more closely. The challenge had grown.
Yet, precisely because the task was so challenging, even if the new “assassin” had managed to infiltrate Siyelou, success wouldn’t come easily. Qun Qing comforted herself with that thought.
Under the clear lamplight, she wrote down the name “Cui Zhu.”
Cui Zhu was the eldest son of the Cui family. In her memory, he was around thirty, once infamous for wild parties with the sons of officials, though he never pursued an official career.
In Chang’an, it wasn’t necessary to be from a noble lineage; immense wealth and a lavish lifestyle were enough to draw the aristocracy into one’s orbit.
The Cui family had been major silk merchants back in the Kingdom of Chu. After the kingdom’s fall and the subsequent upheaval in Chang’an, many merchants suffered losses and closed their businesses. Yet, through savvy maneuvers and strategic hoarding, the Cui family only grew wealthier. They opened Siyelou in the Pingkang District—a luxurious, three-story establishment that became the center of nightly revelry.
Cui Zhu now managed Siyelou. Despite lacking an official title, he enjoyed a constant spotlight. With influential figures frequently visiting Siyelou and spending generously, the Cui family had established powerful connections with the elite, solidifying their place as rising stars among the nouveau riche.
It wouldn’t be long before someone sought to marry into the Cui family.
Qun Qing added “Lady Cui” beneath “Cui Zhu.”
At the Autumn Banquet, Princess Danyang had mentioned that Meng Guanlou’s new wife was this Lady Cui, likely Cui Zhu’s younger sister. As a merchant’s daughter, Lady Cui’s status was low, but if the Meng family could forge ties with the Cui family, it would significantly bolster their influence.
On another note, the Crown Prince of Southern Chu aimed to use the Censorate to retaliate against the Cui family. His motives went beyond disrupting the Da Chen court; he despised their opportunism.
Back in the Kingdom of Chu, the Cui family had received reduced taxes and aid from their former ruler. Yet, when Emperor Chenming’s forces seized Chang’an, the Cui family was the first to pledge loyalty, supplying winter clothing to the Li clan. Their sycophantic rise to prominence must have made the Crown Prince grind his teeth in frustration…
Lan Yue walked in just as Qun Qing folded the paper. With the increased staff in Qingxuan Pavilion, duties had become lighter, and the brass fish token provided Qun Qing with ample excuses to leave the palace. Now, she had the time to carefully plan how to complete her mission.
“These days, His Highness the Crown Prince visits Qingxuan Pavilion every other night, and he hasn’t brought up Luanyi Pavilion at all,” Lan Yue said, sitting closer to Qun Qing, eager to chat.
Qun Qing reminded her, “Princess Bao’an has been placed under house arrest.”
She thought back to how, when Shouxi saw her merely exchanging a few words with Lu Hua Ting, Li Xuan’s suspicion lingered for days. Bao Shu had dared to openly cooperate with Lu Hua Ting—no wonder Li Xuan didn’t trust them anymore, even without Yang Fu’s confinement.
“True,” Lan Yue sighed, disheartened. “But lately, whenever His Highness stays overnight, he’s in a terrible mood. No matter how carefully we serve him, he’s quick to lash out. I’m so anxious, afraid that if Liangdi says something wrong and gets into an argument, everything we’ve gained will be for nothing…”
Qun Qing knew the Crown Prince’s faction had planned to submit a secret memorial against Lu Huating and intended to drive Prince Yan away. Neither goal had been met, so his foul mood was understandable.
With that in mind, Qun Qing reassured Lan Yue,
“It’s not Liangdi’s fault, nor is it yours. He’s probably just weighed down by state matters.”
Lan Yue nodded, “It does seem that way. I heard the envoy from the Kingdom of Liuli, who had been negotiating smoothly with His Highness, became hostile after learning the Emperor had sent Prince Yan to subdue the Western Fan Kingdom. He even hinted that they might withhold the Buddha’s bone relic from Chang’an.”
Qun Qing’s eyelashes flickered.
She knew how crucial the Buddha’s bone relic was to both the Emperor and the Crown Prince. Now that Prince Yan’s household had agreed to host the ceremony, everyone was unified, eagerly anticipating its arrival. If the Kingdom of Liuli reneged, it would certainly cause turmoil.
For her part, Qun Qing hoped the situation would be resolved smoothly, with no setbacks.
Her interest in the Buddha’s bone relic ceremony stemmed from a simple fact: according to the laws of Da Chen, such a grand event would allow for the release of additional palace servants.
—
That night, the carriage from the Eastern Palace rolled up to Qingxuan Pavilion. During the lighting ceremony, Lan Yue accidentally knocked over a candlestick.
“Leave, and tell Qun Qing to light the lamps,” Li Xuan ordered coldly.
It was evident he had just returned from Biquan Palace; the lingering scent of sandalwood and a faint trace of alcohol on his clothes hinted that his meeting with the envoy from the Kingdom of Liuli had not gone well.
Lan Yue hesitated, wanting to remind him that Qun Qing, now the head of the palace, was no longer responsible for lighting lamps. But seeing the Crown Prince’s dark expression, she bit her tongue. When she relayed the task to Qun Qing, her gaze was full of sympathy.
Roused in the middle of the night, Qun Qing leaned against a familiar wall, thinking idly: Could someone really die from constant sleepless nights? She had only been called to serve in the middle of the night, yet her heart was racing irregularly, leaving her feeling distinctly unwell.
The documents piled high on Li Xuan’s desk had doubled since Prince Yan and Prince Zhao’s departure, forcing him to work until dawn. On top of that, he was drinking heavily through the night.
“Serve His Highness some plum wine,” Qun Qing suggested, holding out a wine pot. “It’s less intoxicating.”
“Who told you to speak?” Li Xuan snapped, glaring at her. Their eyes met, and the fury in his phoenix-like gaze flickered before giving way to a cold, mocking disdain.
Qun Qing silently stepped back, deciding not to argue. It was clear that with the recent turmoil, the mood in the Eastern Palace had soured.
Sleep deprivation, heavy drinking, and a constant foul temper—she thought bitterly that such a lifestyle wouldn’t lead to a long life.
Suddenly, a muffled thud echoed through the room. Li Xuan had collapsed onto the desk, his pale face half-buried in his tousled hair. His arm twitched uncontrollably, sending the wine pot spilling onto the carpet. It was as if he were in the throes of a seizure.
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