After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 50

From the outside, the Siye Tower remained brightly lit as always. Prostitutes laughed as they beckoned to customers, while streams of patrons came and went without pause.

Inside one of the private rooms, however, the atmosphere was icy.

“Eldest Brother, there’s news from the ancestral residence in Jiannan Dao. Two women claiming to be Second Sister’s maids entered with a Cui family token and took some items away!” Cui Shengbin reported.

Cui Hao swallowed nervously, fear flashing in his eyes.

The recent attempts by trespassers to break into the Siye Tower had been relentless. Both men bore injuries, and even the faintest sway of the tree shadows outside had their nerves stretched taut.

“Who are these two?” Cui Zhu asked, holding a wine flask.

“No idea.”

“Who sent them?”

“No idea either. The ancestral residence only has Auntie and the old servants who spend their days drinking, gambling, and playing cards. When they saw the family token, they let them in. How could they have known Second Sister was already gone?”

“Nothing is known, nothing at all!” Cui Zhu erupted in fury, kicking over the low table. Porcelain shattered across the floor. “Strangers are swaggering through our gates, and the Cui family might as well be a sieve!”

Disaster seemed to strike at every turn—an ominous chain of events. Cui Hao and Cui Shengbin knelt hurriedly. 

“Eldest brother, is there no way out this time? Should we burn the account books? At least it would save us from living in constant fear.”

“Burn them? That would only please the officials,” Cui Zhu said sharply. “With the evidence gone, all the blame would fall on us. They’d be sure to kick us while we’re down and eliminate us to tie up loose ends.”

“You’re right, we can’t burn them,” Cui Shengbin said with a glint of malice in his eyes. “If we’re doomed anyway, we’ll keep a copy. If things go south, no one will walk away unscathed.”

“They managed to find the ancestral residence. Meng Guangshen’s schemes are ruthless,” Cui Zhu remarked. “He warned me last time before he left. Looks like he’s making his move for real now.”

“Eldest brother, how should we respond?”

“Respond?” The flickering light of dancing shadows outside played across Cui Zhu’s numb face as he poured wine onto the floor. He laughed hopelessly. “We’re not the only ones who want those account books. Let them come—all of them. Invite Qin Shangshu and General Ningyuan too.”

“Father, tonight Cui Zhu has invited Lu Huating to a banquet,” Meng Guanlou reported, standing in the study. Seeing that Meng Guangshen continued writing calmly, he added, 

“If those account books fall into his hands, what will you do?”

“You’re now a Censor of the Court. Why are you still so impatient?” Meng Guangshen finally spoke after finishing a line.

“Impatient?” Meng Guanlou said coldly. “My marriage has already been ruined twice by him. How much more patience do you expect, Father? Why won’t you take him seriously?”

Meng Guangshen raised his gaze. 

“You’d do better to take yourself seriously. Obsessing over others only makes you lose dignity.”

“With all due respect, Father, I’ve had the same dream repeatedly. In it, Prince Yan ascends the throne, and Lu Huating becomes Prime Minister. The thought weighs on me like a boulder. If we don’t eliminate him now, he’ll target us.”

Meng Guangshen, a man who never believed in omens, smiled faintly. 

“If he becomes Prime Minister, what does that make me?”

“Father, we’ll both end up in the imperial prison, with our fates uncertain!” Meng Guanlou replied. “I only escaped with my life because I planted someone beside Lu Huating—”

Before he could finish, Meng Guangshen interrupted him. 

“The events of the fourth year of Shenglin?”

“Yes, the fourth year of Shenglin!”

Meng Guangshen paused mid-stroke, splattering ink onto Meng Guanlou’s robes. It seemed the dream lacked logical coherence.

“I’ve poured so much into you, but what a disappointment you are. Your temperament takes after your mother, not me,” Meng Guangshen said, regret tinging his voice. After a pause, he asked, 

“Is Lu Huating going alone?”

“He’s bringing a woman with him—someone called Lady Qing.”

Thinking she might be just a bodyguard, Meng Guangshen dismissed the thought until the name “Lady Qing” jolted his memory. A delicate face from the Crown Prince’s entourage surfaced in his mind.

It seemed unlikely that someone from the Crown Prince’s circle would ally with Prince Yan’s men, perhaps just a coincidence. Still, it presented an excellent opportunity to fabricate charges.

“Leave now. I’ve already made arrangements,” Meng Guangshen said.

Outside, Meng Guanlou instructed his followers, 

“My father may not believe me, but I can’t sit idly by. Prepare to act.”

By this time, Qun Qing was already seated in the warm infirmary, having changed out of her palace attire. Holding a silver hairpin in her mouth, she reached behind her to tie the pale moon-colored gown at her waist.

From behind, the shimmering silver-threaded white gauze faintly revealed her snow-like complexion. As she lifted her dark hair, a few strands fell gracefully down her back.

Fang Xie, standing by the door, froze at the sight. His brows furrowed, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he gazed at her as if witnessing an unfamiliar yet mesmerizing scene.

When Qun Qing first came to the infirmary at fifteen, she had been gaunt and peculiar in temperament. Fang Xie had assumed that was her nature. Unexpectedly, her time in the palace had transformed her into something entirely different.

Something dangerous.

“What are you doing?” Qun Qing asked sharply, catching sight of him through the vanity mirror.

“Sister, who picked out that outfit for you?” Fang Xie asked. “It’s not flattering.”

Surprised by the critique, Qun Qing paused before replying, 

“I chose it myself.”

She glanced at the neckline, relieved Fang Xie hadn’t seen the revealing gown from last time. Otherwise, there would surely have been trouble.

Seeing her pull out a dagger and skillfully hide it in her sleeve, Fang Xie hurriedly entered with a medicine box in hand. 

“You’re off to do something dangerous again?”

“You know what my job is, right?” Qun Qing calmly slipped two more blades into her sleeves. 

“Once I finish this task, I can come back sooner and reunite with you.”

Fang Xie hesitated, a conflicted look flashing in his eyes. Qun Qing grabbed the Zimu Zhuanhun Pill he was holding, tucked it away, and added nonchalantly, 

“I’m leaving. Give me two slices of ginseng, too.”

The ginseng slices were life-saving remedies for critical situations.

“Sister!” Fang Xie called out to her and pressed more pills into her hand. 

“On the day of Chongyang Festival, I’ll be waiting for you outside the palace.”

As soon as she entered the building, Qun Qing felt countless gazes landing on her, like a web of spider silk enveloping her.

Her sensitivity to danger was unusually sharp. Gripping the ram-head sachet through her clothes, she silently prayed to the Bodhisattva before adjusting her expression and gracefully lifting her skirt to ascend the stairs.

It wasn’t long before she saw the hem of a black robe.

Looking up, Qun Qing spotted Lu Huating standing on the staircase, his expression as composed as ever. Oddly enough, seeing his ever-relaxed face dispelled much of the tension in her heart.

“I thought the advisor would be dressed more formally today.”

“For Cui Zhu? Not necessary,” Lu Huating replied, glancing at his plain attire. After a pause, he lifted his gaze to her, his eyes glinting. 

“When it’s time to deal with someone truly worthy, I’ll change my clothes then.”

Saying this, he extended his hand, seemingly intending to assist her up the steep, narrow stairs.

Qun Qing’s eyes fell on his hand. Under her gaze, Lu Huating clenched his fist slightly and extended his wrist instead, adhering to formal etiquette.

Qun Qing reached out and merely grabbed the edge of his sleeve, using it as support to climb the stairs.

Lu Huating’s eyelashes quivered but allowed her to hold on. As she passed by, the faint scent of orchids lingered in the air. Lu Huating paused momentarily before abruptly turning to look at her.

Qun Qing felt his gaze settle on her right cheek, his expression unreadable. A trace of unease crept into her heart. 

“Did I smear my lip rouge?”

Lu Huating’s dark eyes flickered. So, in the first year of Shenglin, Qun Qing still wasn’t seasoned enough, trusting her mortal enemy to the extent of applying the ointment he gave her.

“Just a little. You should wipe it off with a handkerchief,” Lu Huating said after a brief silence. When he turned back, Qun Qing had already wiped her face until it was red.

Was he trustworthy?

At least until the ledger was secured, he could be trusted.

“Please hold onto me” Lu Huating said. “It will be easier to talk if you’re closer.”

Qun Qing took his arm and whispered, 

“Tonight, there are many more people inside the building—hidden in stairwell corners, outside the eaves, and by the windows—three times the usual number.”

“Prince Yan’s men are already stationed at the locations you mentioned,” Lu Huating replied. “I’ve also placed four more in spots I deemed potentially useful.”

Qun Qing glanced at him, reassured by his ability to spot gaps. Having fought alongside Prince Yan on the battlefield, Lu Huating’s tactical skills made her feel more at ease. 

“Good.”

A courtesan led them inside. 

“The two of you have arrived. Master Cui is already waiting.”

When the door opened, a large square table came into view, a lush green bonsai at its center surrounded by a feast of exquisite dishes. Two musicians played the pipa and yangqin, while Cui Zhu sat on the left side of the table. Surprisingly, two others accompanied him—Official Qin and a knife-wielding general—both looking visibly tense.

Qun Qing recognized them. Their names were in the ledger. They were likely summoned as Cui Zhu’s reinforcements. However, there was another possibility—they might have the same goal: the ledger.

Lu Huating took one look at them without speaking.

“Please, Advisor, have a seat,” Cui Zhu said with a smile, gesturing for Lu Huating to sit. 

“All three of you are esteemed patrons who’ve spent generously in this establishment. Tonight, we’ve acquired a dragon fish. To express my gratitude, I’ve invited you all to enjoy its rare taste.”

As Qun Qing approached the table, Cui Zhu’s snake-like eyes lingered on her face. 

“We have music but lack a performance. Advisor, would you mind letting the lady perform a dance behind the curtain?”

He pointed to a crimson curtain hanging in the corner.

Qun Qing had planned to use the opportunity to slip the Zimu Zhuanhun Pill into the wine or food. Unexpectedly, before she could act, Cui Zhu tried to send her away.

“She hasn’t even had a bite to eat yet,” Lu Huating remarked.

“She can eat after dancing. A courtesan who practices daily should entertain us,” Cui Zhu said, gesturing with a “please” motion.

Upon entering, the brothel keeper Liu hadn’t been visible. Likely, Cui Zhu had grown suspicious of her infiltration as a courtesan. If he exposed her identity now, their carefully arranged plan would fall apart.

This was indeed hitting where it hurt.

Qun Qing couldn’t dance.

Qun Qing cast a glance at Lu Huating, who returned her gaze. Uncertain if the message had been conveyed, she calmly said, 

“The advisor will accompany the servant.”

“You want a fifth-rank official to accompany you?” playing music were things only men of low status did, thus Official Qin was a little surprised.

“Lord Qin, please forgive me for my refined taste as a scholar.” Lu Huating waved his hand and asked Wen Niang to bring the zither over. He applied a little force on his wrist and calibrated the strings.

She had to pick a song she was familiar with; otherwise she won’t be able to keep the beat at all. Lu Huating’s gaze, filled with subtle tension only the two of them understood, landed on her. 

“What would you like to dance to, my Lady?”

“‘Little Pine,’” Qun Qing replied.

“What is ‘Little Pine’?” Lu Huating asked with a faint smile, a rare hint of doubt in his eyes. He had never heard of such a piece.

Moments later, realization dawned on him, and his expression subtly shifted.

“Little Pine” was the introductory melody for beginners learning to play the qin. It was often the first lesson for children. In the cultured circles of Chang’an, noble ladies were expected to be skilled in music and dance. For Qun Qing, who usually excelled in all areas, he had never considered that she couldn’t dance.

Qun Qing stood behind the curtain with dignified stillness, her shadow remaining motionless. Lu Huating’s heart pounded wildly, yet a string of music notes flowed smoothly from his fingers, each one carrying the hope that she would hear his tune.