After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 6

The man stirred the moment he heard the noise.

“Sorry for the delay today,” Qun Qing said as she pulled him toward the low window, cracking it open slightly. She knew how suffocating it was for anyone to stay in such a cramped, dark space for too long.

“I’ll need to check the wound,” she added.

“…I haven’t waited long,” the man replied, his voice hoarse. When he felt her lift the hem of his robe, he fell silent, his ears turning red with embarrassment.

This man was Su Run, a newly appointed scholar at the imperial academy. His words still carried a trace of his southern accent. As the cloth stuck to his wound, he clenched his teeth in pain but did not make a sound.

Qun Qing focused entirely on examining the injury. With it being such a mess of blood and torn flesh, it was difficult to see where the wound ended. Her attention was also split, listening carefully for any sounds outside the door, leaving little room for stray thoughts.

The deepest wound on Su Run’s back had stopped bleeding and showed no signs of infection. Qun Qing applied medicinal powder and wrapped his back and hips with clean cloth. Over the past few days, she had to change the bandages less frequently. If he rested properly, his life was no longer in danger.

This should be enough, she thought.

Her medical skills were basic—enough to keep someone alive, but not enough to heal completely. She treated others the same way she treated her own wounds—just enough to get by.

Su Run, unaware of her thoughts, felt his face heat up at the prolonged silence. Trying to break the awkwardness, he finally asked,

“Um, miss… have they gone to my quarters yet to see if I’m dead?”

Qun Qing thought for a moment before answering.

“Yes, someone comes daily to bring food. I left some slop in your room, and the smell was so bad that they didn’t even step inside. No one noticed you’re gone.”

“Thank you,” Su Run replied quietly, then added with a bitter laugh, “They probably think they’ll be collecting my corpse any day now.”

Su Run struggled to turn his head, but the injuries to his waist and hips forced him to lie on his stomach, unable to see Qun Qing’s face. He could only sense her presence and feel her warmth nearby. Today, her hair was loose, with strands softly falling around him.

Qun Qing mixed medicine in a bowl and carefully fed it to him. As he drank, those delicate strands of her hair brushed against his cheeks, making him more aware of her closeness.

Once he finished, Qun Qing spoke, her tone flat,

“After this, you should leave.”

Su Run choked, startled by her words.

“This medicine is used for battlefield wounds—it’ll numb the pain for a while. At noon, the palace roads will be empty, and you can walk back. After that, we go our separate ways,” she said, her eyes avoiding his.

“The other day, when I was changing your bandages, Huixiang overheard. Today, it’s her—next time, it’ll be me. You staying here is a risk, and it’ll bring me trouble.”

In the distance, Huixiang’s cries echoed from the punishment yard, where the palace maid had already been dragged away.

It was the first year of Shenglin’s reign, and the inner palace was in the midst of a harsh crackdown on spies.

“I understand,” Su Run’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to involve you… I…” He couldn’t finish, his voice filled with guilt.

Qun Qing gave a quiet nod, holding back the urge to say more. In her previous life, it had been this very moment—the act of saving Su Run—that had sparked their bond.

Back then, a palanquin had carried a new scholar into the inner palace, Su Run—a demoted official from another province. His injuries were the result of a severe flogging, which left him unable to walk.

Normally, after such punishment, the officials would receive medicine and rest, but Su Run had been treated with cruelty. The herbal ointments given to him had been laced with grit and lime, worsening his wounds. Weak and on the verge of collapse, Su Run had dragged himself out to find help, eventually fainting near the northern storeroom.

That night, Qun Qing had stumbled upon him in the bamboo grove, unconscious and covered in blood. His waist token, marked with the insignia of a ninth-rank official, caught the moonlight.

For a moment, she had hesitated, knowing the risk she was taking. But in the end, she chose to pull him back, hiding him in the dark corner of the storeroom. She had cleaned his wounds, changed his bandages, fed him, and kept him alive.

The two had only met by chance. Aside from changing his bandages, they hadn’t shared much conversation. Once he was able to walk again, Su Run, not wanting to be a burden, quietly left on his own.

The next time Qun Qing saw him was at the palace school, where he had recovered and was teaching palace maids how to paint plum blossoms and bamboo. Qun Qing, who hadn’t had much opportunity to learn painting or calligraphy as a child, listened closely, admiring his genuine skill. Yet, she noticed that whenever her gaze lingered on Su Run for too long, he would quickly avert his eyes, focusing on the leaves outside the window instead.

At the time, Qun Qing hadn’t given it much thought.

After she was promoted to one of the six department of palace services, Su Run remained a humble scholar at the palace academy. They kept in contact—he would remind her to stay warm in the cold, send her an umbrella when it rained. Though somewhat hesitant, he never overstepped any boundaries. Whenever she needed help, he was always there to support her, which is why she had never cut ties with him.

It wasn’t until Lu Huating pointed it out that Qun Qing realized Su Run had likely long suspected her true identity and intentions. That was why he had risked everything to assist her, wagering his entire life on their bond.

But to Qun Qing, Su Run was simply someone she had unwittingly dragged into her troubles.

If he hadn’t gotten involved with her, if he hadn’t helped her, he wouldn’t have needed to clash with Lu Huating, and his life and career wouldn’t have been destroyed because of it.

Now that she was no longer involved in those schemes, there was no reason to pull Su Run further into this mess.

Debts of gratitude are difficult to repay—it’s often better to not get entangled in friendships at all.

As Qun Qing urged him to leave, Su Run was too ashamed to stay. He tried multiple times to get up, his face drenched in cold sweat, but Qun Qing gently pressed him back down.

“No need to rush. The medicine hasn’t kicked in yet.”

Su Run glanced at her hand resting on his sleeve and, after a moment of hesitation, asked,

“May I know your name? Without your care, I would likely be lying dead somewhere in the wilderness. Once I recover, I will repay this kindness.”

Qun Qing, instead of answering, asked in return, “What’s your name?”

Without hesitation, Su Run replied,

“My surname is Su, given name Run, courtesy name Yujie. And you, lady?”

“Qun Qing,” she responded. Before he could say more,

she added, “I don’t make friends—I make deals.”

Su Run blinked in surprise. “Deals?”

Qun Qing’s tone remained flat.

“You don’t owe me anything for saving your life. When I saw your imperial token, I helped you because you’re a palace official. I thought you might be useful. But now, you’re not.”

Her frank words left Su Run momentarily speechless, a slight frown forming as he tried to understand what had changed. His gaze reflected a mix of surprise and an unspoken sadness.

Sensing the weight of the moment, Qun Qing shifted the topic.

“By the way, I never asked—who did you anger to end up like this?”

Su Run’s injuries were no ordinary punishment. The blows to his thighs and back were dangerously high, near his spine—intended to cripple him. The herbs mixed with filth showed malicious intent. This wasn’t just a common punishment; it was personal, deliberate revenge.

“It’s no secret,” Su Run sighed. “It was Meng Guanlou, the newly appointed Censor.”

“Meng Guanlou, the eldest son of Minister Meng?” Qun Qing was taken aback.

Meng Guangshen, the father, had once been the Crown Prince Li Xuan’s teacher and was an advisor to Emperor Chenming. After the emperor seized the throne, Meng Guangshen became a trusted minister. Known for his cautious and discreet nature, it seemed out of character for his eldest son to be involved in such ruthless actions.

Curiosity sparked, Qun Qing asked,

“What position did you hold before this, and how did you offend him?”

“I was a tribute student from Jiangxi during the last years of the previous emperor’s reign,” Su Run explained.

“Last year, I entered the Imperial Academy, and this year, with the shortage of officials, I was appointed as an examiner. While grading exam papers, I noticed something unusual about Meng Guanlou’s script… I made a foolish remark.”

He paused, a look of regret crossing his face.

“I said his essay looked like it was written by someone else. The handwriting in the first exam was slightly different from the second.”

Su Run’s impulsive actions had worsened the situation. The day after he raised his concerns, Meng Guanlou was summoned by the Ministry of Personnel and made to write another essay on the spot. He completed it effortlessly, proving his exceptional talent, and in a fit of rage, threw the brush at Su Run’s face. His expression was filled with fury, and not long after, Su Run was dragged away on charges of negligence.

“I didn’t think he’d hold such a grudge! I made one accusation, and now he wants me dead,” Su Run said bitterly.

Qun Qing asked,

“Are you certain the two exam papers weren’t written by the same person?”

“I specialize in calligraphy. There’s no doubt—they weren’t written by the same hand,” Su Run affirmed.

“If Meng Guanlou could write so well, why risk using a substitute?” Qun Qing mused. “It’s strange. Maybe he was arrogant enough to disregard the rules, or perhaps something happened during the second exam that forced him to rely on someone else.”

The intensity of Meng Guanlou’s reaction suggested there was more to the story—something he didn’t want anyone probing into.

Qun Qing kept her thoughts to herself. Meng Guanlou’s secret didn’t seem immediately useful to her.

Or perhaps, it wasn’t entirely useless.

Meng Guanlou, as the son of Minister Meng, was closely tied to the Crown Prince, who relied heavily on the Meng family for support. But with Prince Yan’s military victories threatening the Crown Prince’s power, Minister Meng had begun taking steps to weaken him. Lu Huating, a brilliant advisor working in the shadows for Prince Yan, was actively engaged in this struggle against the Meng family.

Qun Qing fixed Su Run with a penetrating gaze, causing him to shift nervously. After a long pause, she finally said,

“Here’s some advice. If you’re worried they’ll come after you again, go to Prince Yan’s manor and find Advisor Lu. Tell him everything you just told me about Meng Guanlou’s exam fraud. He’ll protect you, give you the best medicine, and maybe, if you’re lucky, help you get your revenge.”

“Lu… Advisor Lu?” Su Run repeated, his expression hesitant as he muttered the name, trying to place it.

Qun Qing realized that at this moment in time, Lu Huating was still a relatively unknown figure, just another obscure strategist in Prince Yan’s camp.

But not to her. She knew better than anyone else the impact this man would have, how one day, he would shake the entire dynasty to its core.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, Qun Qing added,

“Just remember, never mention me.”

Su Run hesitated, then asked, “You and him…?”

“We don’t know each other, and we’ve never met,” Qun Qing responded flatly. “But I don’t want him knowing I exist.”

Su Run’s puzzled expression deepened, but Qun Qing mistook his hesitation for fear and reassured him,

“Advisor Lu is a man of purpose. He doesn’t harm those who don’t interfere with his interests. Using his influence should be safe.”

“I trust you, Miss. But if I approach Advisor Lu with no proof and without mentioning your name, I fear I may not even get past the gates of Prince Yan’s mansion. I have nothing left…” Su Run’s voice faltered, clearly worried about his precarious situation.

Understanding his concern, Qun Qing gathered a few valuables she had saved over time—jewelry and some fine pastries—and handed them to him in a basket.

“Take these. Use them to bribe the guards. Just make sure you get to Advisor Lu.”

Su Run’s eyes widened.

“This is everything you own, isn’t it? Why are you helping me like this? We’ve only met by chance. I’m just a lowly palace official, barely able to protect myself…”

Qun Qing’s mind flashed back to Su Run’s fate in her previous life. She owed him a debt—if not friendship, then at least a repayment. She pressed the basket firmly into his hands.

“The new dynasty is ruthless. The palace is a battlefield. The more you shrink away, the less space you’ll have. You may not want to fight Meng Guanlou, but that won’t stop him from coming after you again.”

“Su Run,” she continued, “you were once a scholar of the Imperial Academy, a man who held the futures of others in his hands. Now, you can’t even decide your own life. If you want to live freely, you have to take control and fight back.”

Her gaze fell to the basket in his arms.

“Of course, if you’d prefer to stay here and wait for death, feel free to enjoy the pastries.”

The palace road outside was deserted. Qun Qing helped Su Run to his feet, ready to send him on his way, when he suddenly grabbed her sleeve.

“Who are you, really?”

Qun Qing’s expression turned icy.

“If I told you, do you think you’d live long enough to keep the answer?”

Su Run paled at Qun Qing’s icy words, but before he could respond, a knock sounded on the door, freezing them both in place.

Qun Qing gestured silently toward the window, signaling him to escape when the moment was right. She then stepped outside, locking the door behind her.

As she opened it, Lady Zhang greeted her with a wide grin, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just in time! Come with me—we can still make it!”

“Make it to what?” Qun Qing asked, puzzled. Surely the selection of palace maids had already concluded.

Lady Zhang chuckled.

“Oh, lucky you! Bao Shu managed to offend Princess Bao’an. The princess knocked over her embroidery and had the Yan Princess throw her out. In the process, Princess Yan reviewed the roster and noticed you were missing. I covered for you—why the long face? Shouldn’t you be smiling?”

Qun Qing forced a smile that barely reached her eyes.

“Princess Bao’an wants to see you immediately. She doesn’t care about your rash, and Princess Yan is expecting you as well,” Lady Zhang explained.

A faint clatter from the storage room reached their ears. Lady Zhang raised an eyebrow, rolling up her sleeves.

“Mice again? Let me check.”

Qun Qing quickly pulled her back.

“Lady Zhang, this matter is urgent. Help me fix my hair, and let’s go now.”

Soon enough, Qun Qing found herself hurried along the palace road by Lady Zhang.

“That embroidery of yours—is there something special about it?” Lady Zhang cast a suspicious glance at her. “You don’t seem surprised that Bao Shu angered the princess.”

Qun Qing responded,

“There’s no hiding anything from you. Do you know why I re-embroidered that second piece? The <em>hehuan</em>¹ flower symbolizes physical intimacy between men and women. After Chu fell, Princess Bao’an lost her chastity to Prince Yan. Rumors plagued her, and she rarely left the palace. She even had the hehuan trees by the palace gates cut down. I worried my embroidery might offend her.”

Memories washed over Qun Qing. She remembered how she’d stayed up all night painstakingly reworking the piece, fearful that the original design would hurt Yang Fu—the princess whose homeland had been reduced to ashes, along with her dignity. Each stitch was woven with hopes that the reworked embroidery would shield Yang Fu from any further heartbreak.

“Good thing you remembered all that. I almost forgot,” Lady Zhang muttered before sneering. “Bao Shu tried to steal credit for your work. This is karma!”

“But how did you know Bao Shu would choose the hehuan embroidery?” Lady Zhang asked, still curious. “What if she had taken the orchid one you made? That would’ve suited her better.”

Qun Qing only smiled, her eyes swirling with unspoken emotions.

The slanting stitch technique on that hehuan embroidery was her own signature creation—no one else in the palace could match it. Back when the Chu Kingdom still stood, Princess Bao’an had worn a dress adorned with that very embroidery, envied by all. It had been the peak of her youthful beauty.

Qun Qing knew that if Yang Fu saw the embroidery in Bao Shu’s hands and realized she hadn’t made it, it would ignite the princess’s fury. She would berate Bao Shu even more harshly.

No one could exploit her when Princess Bao’an was in such a mood.