After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 49
Under the faint glow of a candle, Lu Huating finished reading the last memorial.
Inside the hall, Chi Su bent down to pour water. The gray falcon she usually cared for flew in and perched on her shoulder, fluttering its wings.
“If you have any unopened wound ointment, give me another box,” Lu Huating instructed.
Startled, Chi Su straightened up, realizing he was addressing her. She reached to her waist and retrieved a thumb-sized container of healing ointment but hesitated to place it directly on the desk.
After a brief pause, she asked in a slightly hoarse voice,
“I wonder if the box I gave the advisor last time went to Wen Su or Lady Qing?”
Chi Su rarely spoke, but Lu Huating’s sharp gaze lifted from the memorial, fixing on her face. His elegantly upturned eyes appeared even darker and more intense in the candlelight.
“Does the box I mentioned just now have any connection to the last one?”
Under his piercing scrutiny, Chi Su’s expression faltered momentarily. She quickly lowered her eyes, placed the ointment on the desk, and retreated hurriedly.
“Your subordinate has overstepped.”
Watching her retreating figure, Lu Huating picked up the small box, sensing something peculiar.
Outside, the shadow guards overheard the commotion. Kuang Su, clearly anxious, exclaimed,
“Advisor! If you need ointment, I have plenty!”
He rummaged through his belongings and pulled out several boxes of various sizes. Jian Su glanced at him and remarked,
“Not the type he’s asking for.”
Zhu Su curiously added, “Why does he only ask Chi Su for ointment and not us?”
“It must be for a lady,” Jian Su whispered. “The ointments Chi Su and Wen Su use are different from ours.”
“What’s the difference?” the others inquired.
“Don’t you know?” Jian Su crossed his arms. “The ones for them don’t contain… What’s that scent again?”
“Musk!” Zhu Su suddenly realized. “I’ve heard it can harm women’s health.”
Their lively discussion was abruptly interrupted as the door opened. Lu Huating tossed the ointment he had just taken from Chi Su into Jian Su’s hands.
“Have it tested. Make sure there’s nothing wrong with it.”
Both Zhu Su and Jian Su immediately sobered, their expressions turning serious.
In the Shangfu Bureau, nearly half the candidates were eliminated in the first round of testing. After the incident with Cui Ying, many noblewomen withdrew out of fear. Only 16 participants remained for the third test, held once again in the Chongjing Hall.
Han Wanyi sat behind a screen, leisurely fanning herself as she observed the remaining candidates.
Qun Qing carefully split a strand of gold thread, adjusting the angle of her needle as she stitched through the sheer and delicate Huanxue Silk. It was as if she were suturing a wound, meticulously closing the gaps without damaging the embroidery fabric. Feeling slightly relieved, she wiped the sweat from her hands.
Behind her, Bao Shu secretly watched, noticing that Qun Qing’s pace had slowed but remained uninterrupted. All the auspicious clouds on her fabric were completed, and even the dragon motif had taken shape. Alarmed, Bao Shu’s hands slipped, causing a tear in her fabric. She quickly steadied her needle, frowning.
The tension in the hall was palpable, with fabric tearing and sharp gasps punctuating the air. When the incense finally burned out and the bronze gong sounded, Qun Qing tied off her last stitch.
Her embroidery depicted a coiled dragon stepping on clouds. At first glance, it appeared simple, but its lifelike form and vibrant colors, even down to the vivid dragon eyes, were captivating.
Qun Qing lowered her gaze as Han Wanyi approached, accompanied by Liu Siyi. Han Wanyi examined her embroidery and glanced at her hands, which trembled slightly from the day’s rigorous work.
“Well done,” Han Wanyi remarked as she passed by. “Excellent.”
Immediately after, a young eunuch read out the list of candidates who had passed the third test.
As Qun Qing heard her name, she felt a surge of excitement. Envious eyes fell upon her. Soon, she would have the opportunity to interact with Xiao Yunru.
But what kind of questions would Xiao Yunru ask? Could she still stand out?
This time, eight candidates were chosen and divided into two groups. A eunuch led Qun Qing to a side hall. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Xiao Yunru, dressed in court robes, sitting solemnly before a gold-foil screen.
Two embroidery frames were set up in the hall, each holding a cloud-patterned belt stretched taut.
Xiao Yunru began, “The Crown Prince’s attire is crafted exclusively by the Shangfu Bureau. Every stitch and thread must adhere to palace standards to prevent counterfeiting by outside embroiderers. Ladies, please identify which of these two belts was made by the Shangfu Bureau.”
The question left the four ladies visibly uneasy. Qun Qing, too, hesitated. At a glance, the two belts appeared identical.
None of them had worked in the Shangfu Bureau before. How could they discern the distinct characteristics of the Bureau’s embroidery?
“May we examine them more closely?” Qun Qing asked.
“Certainly,” Xiao Yunru replied. “You may touch and inspect them one at a time.”
The first lady approached but soon backed away, saying,
“I… I cannot tell the difference.”
The second and third ladies ventured guesses—one claimed the belt on the right was authentic, while the other insisted both belts were genuine. Xiao Yunru merely smiled, neither confirming nor denying their answers.
When it was Qun Qing’s turn, she stepped forward, studying the belts closely. Both belts bore a circular family crest embroidered at their center. The stitching differed slightly, but both were meticulously crafted.
Behind the screen, Lu Huating observed Qun Qing’s deliberation. He stifled a smile as her sky-blue shawl trailed softly on the floor. She appeared perplexed yet focused.
As the incense continued to burn, Qun Qing examined the crests. Suddenly, she realized they looked familiar—water-patterned dragons. It was the emblem bestowed upon Prince Yan’s palace by the Emperor.
A memory surfaced: black-clad warriors surrounding a nobleman’s carriage, wearing belts embroidered with this crest. Later, these men had surrounded Lu Huating and Kuang Su during the East City incident.
Qun Qing’s gaze sharpened. Shielding her actions from Xiao Yunru, she discreetly inspected the edges of the left belt and noticed faint traces of blood. This must have been the belt Lu Huating had taken during that conflict.
Who had devised this test?
Qun Qing fastened the belt and turned to Xiao Yunru. Her eyes flicked briefly toward the screen, where faint wisps of smoke drifted behind.
“I believe the belt on the right was made by the Shangfu Bureau, while the one on the left is a replica,” she said, bowing.
Xiao Yunru smiled faintly. “Why do you think so?”
“The embroidery of the Shangfu Bureau represents the pinnacle of Dacheng’s craftsmanship. External embroiderers simply cannot match it. The left belt has coarser stitches and faint sweat stains. Though subtle, they are discernible to this servant,” Qun Qing explained confidently.
In truth, she had fabricated this reasoning.
She knew the servants in Prince Yan’s palace wore standardized uniforms. Given the number of false palace guards involved in the East City incident, it was impossible for them to have acquired so many authentic belts. The left belt was likely a replica.
Xiao Yunru’s expression remained neutral.
“Did you truly discern this difference, or are you merely speculating?”
Qun Qing hesitated briefly, lowering her gaze.
Lu Huating always acted with purpose. Presenting this belt—a secret only the two of them shared—was no coincidence. He likely wanted to test her knowledge or extract information in exchange for her progress in the competition.
“Reporting to the princess,” Qun Qing began, “both belts belong to Prince Yan’s palace. Outsiders rarely succeed in replicating such items due to the strict standards maintained by the Shangfu Bureau. Factors such as the size, curvature, and color of the dragon embroidery are highly regulated, making counterfeits easy to identify.”
She held up both belts and continued, “However, if someone managed to acquire an authentic belt, they could produce an identical replica. Using an old embroiderer’s method, one could place the original belt beneath a sheet of rice paper, rub red bean powder across the paper to transfer the design, and then trace it with precision. By cutting out the pattern and using it as a base, a skilled embroiderer could create a nearly indistinguishable copy.”
Qun Qing’s confidence stemmed from her mother’s teachings. As a child, she had often used this technique to practice embroidery in her family’s clothing shop.
Qun Qing called Cui Yu to bring a basin of clean water. She spread out the belt, laid it flat at the bottom of the water, and shook it several times. Soon, a fine layer of bean powder floated to the surface.
Cui Yu and the other three ladies looked down, their eyes widening in amazement. They were astonished and humbled by the sight.
“Among you, only Lady Qing answered correctly. She will stay; the rest of you may leave for now. I wish to speak with her alone,” Xiao Yunru said, her gaze flicking to the basin with a glimmer of approval.
When everyone had been dismissed, Qun Qing remained standing in the hall. Xiao Yunru turned her head toward her and smiled.
“We’ve met a few times now. No need to be so reserved. Come closer.”
Qun Qing stepped forward and suddenly knelt gracefully.
“This servant does not dare to take credit. Reaching this point was solely to meet the Princess Consort and request one thing.”
Xiao Yunru was surprised but patient due to her admiration.
“Speak.”
Qun Qing glanced toward the screen, her heart pounding. It was a good opportunity, yet Lu Huating was also present. If he found out she wanted to leave the palace, he might interfere. She couldn’t let that happen.
“This servant understands how challenging it is for the Princess Consort to manage the inner palace. There’s a rumor among the palace maids that has caused unrest, so I thought it best to ask the Princess Consort directly.”
“What is it?” Xiao Yunru asked curiously.
“My benefactor, Madam Zhang from the Ye Ting, has served here since her youth and has never experienced family reunions outside the palace. She hoped to leave the palace during the planned release of palace staff following the Buddha bone ceremony,” Qun Qing said, her dark eyes welling with shallow tears while her voice remained calm. “But rumors claim the Princess Consort does not intend to release anyone this time. This servant dare not let Madam Zhang know, as it would crush the hopes of many palace staff.”
Xiao Yunru observed her, momentarily at a loss. She hadn’t expected Qun Qing to bring this up after being selected. Her decision not to release staff had been made with higher considerations in mind. Yet, faced with someone pleading so earnestly and tearfully, she couldn’t help but feel conflicted.
Lu Huating, who had been inspecting the basin of water Cui Yu brought, withdrew his hand, letting water drip back into the basin as he focused on the conversation.
It wasn’t surprising.
This woman loved helping others.
In the previous life, her efforts to protect Princess Bao’an had also left him puzzled.
Being a spy was akin to walking in darkness, like a clay Bodhisattva crossing a river—full of risks. Yet she acted with emotions and a sense of duty.
“This matter is under consideration,” Xiao Yunru said slowly.
“Princess Consort, not releasing anyone at all would indeed violate Dacheng’s laws.” A melodious voice sounded from behind the gilded screen.
To Qun Qing’s surprise, Lu Huating showed such conscience. She immediately looked up at Xiao Yunru. Startled, Xiao Yunru paused with her teacup mid-air.
“Don’t be alarmed. That is this consort’s advisor waiting outside.”
“Thank you, sir,” Qun Qing said politely.
But the voice offered no further response.
“This consort agrees. Twenty staff will be released this year, and Madam Zhang, having served here for many years, should be among them. Return and reassure her,” Xiao Yunru said.
Qun Qing quickly knelt to express her gratitude.
With Xiao Yunru’s promise, the prospect of leaving the palace grew closer. That evening, Qun Qing worked on her embroidery with remarkable ease. She finished her last stitch late at night.
Looking into the mirror, she saw her face, still vibrant but bearing a faint scar that hadn’t fully healed.
Standing, she retrieved a small jar of ointment from a shelf, placing it alongside the jade cream Li Xuan had given her.
This ointment was left in the double-fish sachet Lu Huating had sent her, along with a note. For some reason, she had kept it unopened.
She originally didn’t plan to use it, but with her task at Siye Tower approaching, a scarred face might hinder the mission.
Opening both jars, she applied a little from each, spreading them evenly on her skin. The faint orchid scent flowed as a coolness soothed her face.
Perhaps due to her light mood, sleep eluded her. Sitting on the bed, she retrieved a bag of osmanthus sugar and popped a piece into her mouth.
In the Eastern Palace, Shouxi presented Li Xuan with a tray.
“Your Highness, Lady Qing returned the prayer robe.”
Li Xuan glanced over, shook it open, and paused upon seeing it.
The pristine white robe now bore silver-threaded scriptures across the shoulders and front. The words flowed like drifting snow and swaying winds.
“Lady Qing mentioned she has mastered sewing on Huanxue Silk. The punctured areas were all patched with scriptures. Your Highness can try it on to see if the fit has improved,” Shouxi explained.
Li Xuan’s hand gradually clenched tighter before he turned his gaze aside after a long silence.
“I have important matters to attend to. I don’t have time to fuss over a piece of clothing. Once you’re finished with it, just put it away.”
“Yes,” Shouxi replied, giving him a brief glance before leaving with the golden plate.
The lights glowed brightly within Prince Yan’s mansion.
Lu Huating sat at the head of the hall, observing the maids as they worked. They soaked the belts collected from the residence guards and secret agents, rubbing their embroidered patterns underwater.
“Meng Guanlou managed to find someone to impersonate a subordinate of the Prince Yan’s Mansion and even replicate the belts of our palace. I’m very curious—who supplied Meng Guanlou with an authentic belt?” Lu Huating said, his tone sharp.
Jian Su seemed lost in thought. “And that day, when we went to the hospital to get medicine for His Highness, the chief secretary insisted we go in plain clothes. Only our people knew about it. How did Meng Guanlou’s men show up on the street, surround us, and attempt to assassinate us?”
Lu Huating had suspected a traitor then, though he couldn’t confirm it at the time.
He silently thanked Qun Qing. The bean powder had clung to the embroidered patterns during the test.
“Advisor, this belt has bean powder!” a maid exclaimed.
It was one of Jian Su’s.
Jian Su was shocked. “How could it be mine?”
Zhu Su interjected, “Advisor, our casual clothes and belts are distributed by Chi Su.”
Meanwhile, the palace doctor carefully examined a small box of wound ointment.
“Reporting to the Chief Secretary, apart from a particularly strong orchid scent, there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with this box.”
“Where’s the box Chi Su brought last time?” Xian Su asked sharply.
“I can’t jump to conclusions. I’ll need to test it to be certain,” the doctor replied.
Lu Huating dismissed the matter with a wave. “Forget it.”
He recalled seeing the scratch on Qunqing’s palm back in the cave. If she had used this ointment, the wound would have healed long ago.
She didn’t trust him. Even if he had given it to her, she likely would have thrown it away.
With that thought, he picked up the ointment, closed the lid, and ordered the basins to be removed.
Outside the palace, the night was pitch black.
All the secret guards and palace soldiers—except for a few close confidants who had shared life-and-death battles with him—waited in the courtyard. Chi Su stood at the front, her figure tense, the gray falcon on her shoulder glowing faintly in the darkness.
Lu Huating approached her, handed back the ointment, and, seeing the panic in her eyes, gave a cold command:
“Chisu stays. The rest follow me to Siye Tower. Do not disturb the people.”