After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 75

In the following few days, Lu Huating did not come to disturb Qun Qing.

Under the effect of the medicinal decoction, Qun Qing seemed to have made up for all the sleep she had missed in half her lifetime.

This drowsiness persisted until she boarded the ship. She even forgot about her seasickness. Only during brief moments of wakefulness did she notice a single tangerine placed on the dimly lit bedside table, though she had no idea when it had been put there.

Suddenly feeling hungry, Qun Qing sat up, took the tangerine, peeled it, and ate while listening to the conversation from the neighboring cabin.

The guest ship had only thin wooden panels dividing the cabins into small compartments for passengers to rest in, so she could faintly hear Xiao Jingxing and Lu Huating talking.

Xiao Jingxing said, “We managed to escort Song Wen back, but I didn’t expect Dongyingfang to have connections with Marquis Lu. A large amount of silver was wasted, and I fear facing Consort Lu when we return.”

Lu Huating replied indifferently, “We’ll deal with it when we get back.”

Xiao Jingxing lowered his voice, “Miss Qing has been sleeping non-stop. Is she alright? Last time, I heard you mention something about a bone-setting therapy. It sounds dangerous. Is it a serious illness?”

“You misheard,” Lu Huating said in a flat tone, as if peeling a tangerine himself. “Have you heard of green snakes hibernating? Sleeping through winter—what’s strange about that?”

The late-winter tangerine was so sour that Qun Qing frowned.

She stopped listening and picked up a mirror, examining her face.

The reflection showed smooth, even cheeks, as flawless as peeled lychee. No one would ever guess that her appearance had been altered. It was now “Qun Qing’s” face, albeit with slight differences.

Physician Li had explained that her current health made it impossible to fully restore her bones to their original state, despite his best efforts. Thankfully, a young woman’s face naturally changes over time, making the situation plausible.

Qun Qing swallowed a pill of Frost-Cold Dew, pulled up the covers, and curled up to sleep again.

When the medicine’s effects wore off and she fully awoke, the scent of rosemary from the incense burner and the piercing cold air outside the window reminded her that they had returned to the palace.

Sitting up, she realized she was in the Jinglian Pavilion—Lu Huating’s usual place for interrogations and the site of her previous demise.

Even more absurdly, the place where she lay was the torture rack, with only a cloak thrown over it for padding.

Qun Qing rose and saw Wen Su and Jian Su already dressed in the palace’s dark guard attire. When they noticed her, they froze, not daring to move. The hall was so silent that one could hear a pin drop.

She walked straight to the curtain, and under their astonished gazes, pulled it open. Winter sunlight spilled onto Lu Huating’s pale, handsome face. His desk was piled high with documents as he quietly reviewed official papers.

Back here, he was once again the  advisor of Prince Yan’s residence, exuding an air of cold authority that made him even more incomprehensible.

Qun Qing said, “If the advisor is worried, you might as well lock me up.”

Lu Huating didn’t reply.

“I’m afraid someone might discover me and implicate you,” she added calmly.

“Have you forgotten you’re a prisoner?” Lu Huating’s smile was cold. “Do you think you can do whatever you want?”

“I want to bath,” she said.

His brush abruptly stopped, and his sharp gaze swept over her face.

The last time she used this excuse, she had escaped.

Qun Qing avoided his gaze, her expression neutral. This time, she genuinely wanted to bath. After days of travel, her hair was damp with sweat and dust, and she had had no chance to freshen up. It was unbearable.

Lu Huating was just about to refuse when Wen Su stepped forward and whispered, 

“It’s not that there’s no water…”

With Lu Huating’s silent approval, Wen Su led her to a side hall and called for palace maids to fetch water. To Wen Su’s surprise, Qun Qing untied her hair and let it fall directly into the basin of warm water.

She didn’t have time for a full bath. Instead, she wet her black hair, worked in soaproot, quickly rinsed it, and wrung it out by hand.

As she stepped out, a young eunuch from Prince Yan’s residence hurried in. 

“The Crown Prince has heard of Miss Qing’s return and requests her immediate presence in the Eastern Palace.”

Qun Qing had just taken the towel from Wen Su to dry her hair and froze mid-motion.

Standing with his back to the eunuch, Lu Huating’s expression was unreadable, but Qun Qing could sense a shift in his mood. After a moment of silence, he said, 

“Tell them I’m still interrogating her.”

He then turned to Qun Qing. 

“Dry your hair before you leave.”

The eunuch bowed and started to leave but added, 

“The Crown Prince has just summoned someone from the Imperial Prison. It seems to be Miss Qing’s father, Qun Cang.”

“His Highness just had someone brought from the Imperial Prison. It appears to be Miss Qing’s father, named Qun Cang.”

At these words, both Qun Qing and Lu Huating froze.

A sharp pang twisted in Qun Qing’s chest. She lifted her gaze to Lu Huating and said,

“I can’t wipe it off myself. Advisor, help me.”

Lu Huating didn’t respond. Instead, he gripped the towel on her head, not to dry her hair but to press her down onto the cold torture rack.

He turned to look at her, her black hair damp and dripping, framing her face in delicate strands. She met his gaze steadily, her composure unwavering, yet there was a fragility to her—as if she might shatter at the slightest touch.

Then, she spoke softly. “Punish me.”

Lu Huating’s eyes flickered. “What?”

“Strike me.” Time was running out, and Qun Qing’s words came quickly. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Now that I’m in your hands, if you don’t leave any marks on me, won’t it seem suspicious? And if I have no wounds, how will I earn the Crown Prince’s pity?”

After saying the last sentence, she frowned slightly. Lu Huating’s fingers pressed into her shoulder, and before he realized it, his grip had tightened. The pain was sharp, and she couldn’t help but glare at him angrily.

Lu Huating lifted his gaze, watching her with a faint smile, as if he found some amusement in the situation. “Don’t dig yourself into a pit.”

The smile faded as he spoke. He lifted a strand of her damp hair with the handle of his fan. It was wet, clinging to her shoulder, where a faint white scar was visible. He pressed down on the scar and remarked casually, 

“How did this happen?”

In the side chamber, Qun Cang was led in by two eunuchs, his shackled feet clanking against the floor as he shuffled into the East Palace. His hunched frame brushed against the sleeves of young palace maids as he passed, a stark contrast to their youthful elegance.

Once, he had been a man in his prime. Now, he was a frail, gray-haired figure. His back was bent, his legs rotting from the damp conditions of the prison, emitting an unpleasant odor. Every step he took was stiff and labored.

Qun Cang was brought to stand behind a plain screen. After a moment, a slender silhouette appeared on the other side. The eunuch slowly pulled the screen away, revealing Qun Qing and allowing her to see the man opposite her. Likewise, Qun Cang could now see the young lady standing before him in plain garments.

For a long while, neither spoke. Qun Cang’s gaze remained calm, devoid of any emotion.

Inside the inner chamber beyond the screen, Shouxi felt his heart tighten. He cast a cautious glance at Li Xuan. 

“Your Highness… why does it seem like he doesn’t recognize her?”

Li Xuan showed no change in expression. After a pause, he replied, “They were separated when she was five years old. Now they’ve both grown up. Not recognizing each other is only natural. If they were to embrace and weep the moment they met, wouldn’t that seem forced?”

Beside him, Meng Guangshen sipped his tea, glancing toward the screen.

That young lady’s fate would end today.

Seeing that Li Xuan did not have Qun Qing brought inside to pay respects first but instead allowed them to recognize each other from afar, Meng Guangshen understood that Li Xuan had already decided to kill her.

Qun Qing wasn’t even aware that the Crown Prince was watching from nearby. If her identity was false, Li Xuan wouldn’t even need to look at her face—he could simply have her executed from a distance.

Qun Qing studied Qun Cang for a long moment before speaking. 

“Father.”

At the sound of this address, Qun Cang’s expression flickered slightly, but his gaze remained cold as he assessed her.

Qun Qing’s expression didn’t change. 

“Father, your hair has turned so white. Do your knees still ache when it rains?”

Qun Cang’s lips moved slightly. Qun Qing averted her gaze. 

“Is it because you had no wife or son to care for you, that your leg pains have worsened? Without me there to call you to meals, have you been lying in your cell, worrying about the state of the nation, overthinking things until you’ve lost your appetite?”

“I remember how, when I was a child, you always promised to take me to see the village opera. But every time, you were too buried in official documents to go. Mother and Brother would take me instead, and whenever I saw other little girls sitting on their father’s shoulders, I would always cry on the way home. While you were in prison, did you ever think about that?”

Her tone was calm, but with a sharp edge. Even Shouxi flinched, and Li Xuan turned his head slightly toward her.

Qun Qing didn’t look at Qun Cang’s reaction.

She recalled the time when she had first moved into Qun Qing’s former quarters in the Yeting Court. She had once gone through the entire room, familiarizing herself with the clothes and accessories left behind, reading through the notes that had been recorded.

For over ten years as a slave in the Yeting Court, that young girl had written home in tear-stained ink, pouring out all her grievances, stroke by stroke.

Now, Qun Qing was asking those questions on her behalf.

“I remember the first poem you taught me,” Qun Qing said. “‘To sacrifice one’s life for the nation, to regard death as a return home.’ And the last poem you taught me was, ‘Heaving deep sighs to stifle my tears, grieving the hardships of the people.’ I have never forgotten them. But I want to ask you, Father—do you regret it?”

She continued, “Father, you once said that what you did was right. Even when Mother tried to stop you, you still insisted on submitting your petition. But because you were so determined, Mother and Brother lost their lives. I was orphaned at a young age, struggling to survive. In all these years, have you ever thought of me?”

Qun Cang’s lips trembled, and a choked sound escaped his throat. His body shook violently, and a tear slipped down, vanishing into his unkempt beard as he wiped it away with a trembling hand.

Tears streamed down Qun Qing’s cheeks as well. After a pause, she said, 

“Father, I have often thought of you. Because you are my only family left in this world. Every time I suffered humiliation, I would wonder if you would understand my grievances. As long as you were alive, I could hold onto hope—that you were eating well, staying warm, and that maybe, one day, we might be reunited.”

“Qingqing,” Qun Cang closed his eyes before finally speaking, his voice hoarse as if rusted, “Qingqing, I’m sorry… I, Qun Cang, have never failed the heavens above nor the people below, but I have wronged only you, your mother, and your brother.”

Shouxi glanced at Li Xuan.
This was unexpected.

Li Xuan remained silent, the tea in his hand having long gone cold. Meng Guangshen, however, chuckled. “After being imprisoned for so long, it’s only natural to yearn for one’s family. A few heartfelt words are enough to stir emotions. But we still cannot be certain that this young lady is truly Qun Cang’s daughter. Separate them for verification.”

Thus, a plain screen was set up, blocking Qun Qing’s view.

Shouxi led Qun Cang to a desk and handed him paper and brush. 

“Do you remember any distinguishing features on your daughter? The palace maids will verify them to prevent any spies from posing as her.”

Qun Cang pondered for a moment before writing in shaky, uneven strokes: 

“My daughter has a cinnabar mole behind her ear; on her left shoulder, an old scar from when she was injured on a rockery.”

On the other side of the screen, a palace maid lifted Qun Qing’s hair to reveal the back of her ear. Then, she loosened her upper garment, exposing her shoulder—where a thin, long scar was clearly visible.

The two palace maids exchanged a glance before stepping away to report to Li Xuan.

Qun Qing remained expressionless as she slowly fastened her collar.