After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 94

The murmur of whispered conversations around the banquet suddenly grew louder.
Accidents like this weren’t unheard of during grand feasts — palace maids or officials who made such blunders usually ended up punished or demoted.

But this case was different. When His Majesty first ascended the throne, he often lay awake at night, mourning the late Empress. The Astrological Bureau once divined through dream readings and declared that after her death, the late Empress had ascended to the heavens and become a bodhisattva — Guanyin herself.

And now, on the late Empress’s memorial birthday, the statue of Guanyin offered in her honor had shattered in public view.

It was a grave omen, and many concubines covered their faces with their fans, already sighing in pity at the doomed future of the official responsible.

Qun Qing lowered her gaze, her whole body cold with dread. The broken statue she held told a clear story: the upper half was solid, but the lower half hollow. The fracture was clean — someone had pre-cut most of the way through it. It had been balanced precariously: fine when standing, but bound to snap at the slightest disturbance.

On the other side, Bao Shu stood quietly, her lips curved into a slight smirk.

Qun Qing had no shortage of enemies — the recently disgraced Concubine Lü, for instance, wouldn’t pass up a chance like this. She didn’t even need to lift a finger; just needed someone else to wield the knife for her.

In the heavy silence that followed, Qun Qing hesitated only briefly. She carefully set down the broken upper half of the statue, picked up the lower part, then turned and knelt with a bow.

“Your Majesty, I offer congratulations.”

The Emperor gave a sharp laugh through his anger.

“Congratulations? For what?”

Qun Qing flipped the bottom half of the statue upside down. With a sharp clink, a small jade piece fell into her palm.

“Hidden inside the statue, sent by Concubine Lü, was a jade chess piece,” she said calmly.

“And what of it?” the Empress asked coolly.

Everyone exchanged uncertain glances.

Qun Qing continued, “The statue’s right hand holds a basket of fish. Just now, the eunuch misspoke. This isn’t the Holy Guanyin, but rather the folk deity known as the ‘Goddess of Childbirth.’ There’s a legend: in Wenzhou, a merchant who had long been childless prayed devoutly to the Goddess of Childbirth. One night, she appeared to him in a dream, handed him a chess piece, and said with a smile, ‘I grant you a son.’ When he awoke, his wife was indeed pregnant.”

“I offered my congratulations,” she concluded, “because Concubine Lü’s gift has manifested a sign — a blessing from the late Empress — indicating that someone among the noble ladies here is with child.”

The Emperor’s face finally softened. Seated beside him, Crown Princess Zheng Yiyi — cheeks flushed with excitement — cried out, “Could it really be that miraculous? Perhaps I am with child!”

A successor for the Crown Prince was cause for national celebration. Immediately, the court ladies and officials all knelt to offer their blessings.

Surrounded by the wave of congratulations, Li Xuan’s smile was faint but genuine as he took Zheng Yiyi’s hand. The Emperor, seeing this, could hardly continue to be angry. He offered Qun Qing a cool but approving nod.

“You are quite knowledgeable.”

Zhu Shangyi spoke up, “Qun Qing is well-read and quick-witted — she never misses a single detail when it comes to rituals and ceremonies.”

Both the Emperor and Empress nodded in agreement.

Qun Qing adjusted her skirt and quietly retreated to the side, clutching the cold chess piece tightly in her sleeve.

Thankfully, she had tucked a spare piece among her things earlier — otherwise, she would have had no way to explain herself and escape disaster.

Meanwhile, the evening’s performance had already begun.

“Hm? Aren’t these processions usually done with fireworks?” the Empress remarked lightly, causing Zhu Shangyi to tense up and glance anxiously at Qun Qing.

Qun Qing stepped forward and said, “We were inspired by folk traditions of lantern dances, and humbly invite Your Majesties to enjoy the spectacle.”

Even before she finished speaking, gasps of amazement rose from the crowd. Thirty-three palace maids lifted carp-shaped lanterns high above their heads and moved gracefully.

In the darkness, the scattered lights floated and drifted like a school of fish swimming together in a hidden river — or like souls gliding through the night sky of the underworld.

In the silent solemnity fitting the late Empress’s memorial, this breathtaking scene spoke louder than any music.

The Emperor stared at the sight for a long time, feeling a sudden sting at the bridge of his nose.

Soon after, a young eunuch hurried over with a message. 

Zhu Shangyi beamed at Qun Qing, saying, “By grace of the Empress, you are hereby promoted to Sixth-Rank Official.”

Qun Qing bowed low to accept the honor.

At that moment, a new wave of astonishment rippled through the audience. The maids had shifted their formation again, arranging the lanterns into a massive character — the symbol for “longevity.”

Then, Prince Li Pan arrived late to the banquet. 

He laughed coldly, “Quite the thoughtful gesture… but that ‘longevity’ character is missing a stroke. How disrespectful.”

At his words, the entire hall looked closer — and sure enough, the character was incomplete. One of the maids had taken a wrong step, colliding with another and falling.

Terrified, the poor maid scrambled forward on hands and knees, throwing herself at the Emperor’s feet in complete disgrace.

“Your Majesty, please forgive me!” she sobbed.

Li Pan was secretly delighted. These inexperienced palace girls were easy prey — they’d crumble without him needing to even fabricate a crime.

But when the girl lifted her tear-streaked face, Li Pan froze.

Her features — the roundness of her face, her dignified brows, even the tiny mole on her nose — bore an uncanny resemblance to the late Empress in her youth.

Bathed in moonlight, she looked as if the Empress’s spirit had come to life—hauntingly lovely, beyond what mortal eyes should see.

Emperor Chenming stood silent, unable to voice rebuke, until his voice cracked softly:
“No matter.”

And the maid, emboldened, raised her voice:
“I serve in the Yeting Court, never before have I faced His Majesty’s mercy in person. May I humbly request an edict to release my sisters and me from palace service?”

A ripple of whispers ran through the hall. Even grand banquets are prone to accidents like this—any unlucky maid or lady-in-waiting who fumbles the ceremony risks demotion or worse.

With one grand wave of his hand, Emperor Chenming agreed. Seeing her delight and gratitude, he actually laughed from his chest—he had rarely seen the Empress look so joyous in his memory.

Li Pan, watching this, winced. The eunuchs around him knelt and murmured reminders: “Your Highness, you can’t dance tonight! The Emperor doesn’t like you dressing as a woman. This trick may be used only once. If you try this again, it will look deliberate, and the Emperor will think you’re merely copying others.”

Li Pan’s face darkened, and he trembled as he asked, “Who said I’m imitating?”

He had donned the skirt and makeup in hopes of resembling Empress Yuan, dieting and practicing for days to perfect the illusion. His goal was to stir the emperor’s pity by recalling the late empress’s face. Yet before he could ever perform, someone had spirited him away—and not gently. He turned to Qun Qing, who stood upright and offered him a faint, knowing smile. She immediately let her long lashes drop, hiding the triumph in her eyes.

After all, he was a prince. No matter how well he imitated Empress Yuan, could he ever truly capture the spirit of a real young woman? Qun Qing gently ran her fingers over each portrait of the late empress, memorizing every detail — her makeup, her expressions, even the tiny mole on the tip of her nose — until they were engraved into her heart.

In the vast Yeting Court, with hundreds of palace servants, it wasn’t hard to find a laundry maid who bore the right resemblance.

After a round of performances, Emperor Chenming called for the banquet to begin. Only after the princes, princesses, and consorts had started eating were the female officials allowed to pick up their chopsticks.

Qun Qing quietly sat down, facing a table laden with rare delicacies, but only picked up a single piece of roast goose and placed it into her bowl.

She thought of her father and Shi Yuming — both of whom loved roast goose — and how they once roasted one until it turned black over the fire. Unlike the palace’s perfectly crisp, golden roast goose, theirs was rough, burnt, and full of fond memories.

As fireworks burst outside, Qun Qing ate her goose in silence, her posture graceful and composed — a far cry from the awkward, shy girl she had once been.

Years in the palace had changed her, but that didn’t stop her from tucking her memories deep inside, determined to live her life well.

Suddenly, she caught a whiff of citrus drifting by. Qun Qing turned her head sharply — but among the swirling perfumes and rustling silks, there was no one there.

Probably just a hallucination from all the pressure of her arranged marriage, she thought, popping another piece of goose into her mouth.

On the other side of the hall, a maid approached Princess Danyang and whispered, “Two lords are waiting by the Qujiang Pool, asking if Your Highness would like to view the spring blossoms.”

Danyang snorted to herself — Viewing flowers? More like matchmaking. She wrapped her shawl tighter and laughed, “It’s freezing outside! Bring them in — I’ll treat them to some wine.”

A short while later, two scholars — Chu Huaiyao and Liu Dan — entered the hall, drinking competitively with Danyang, neither willing to lose face.

But Princess Danyang couldn’t hold her liquor. Giggling, she pointed lazily at them and said,
“You two, wait for me in the side hall,” before swaying away toward the eastern side chamber to rest.

She didn’t return. Meanwhile, the two scholars grew flushed and restless, the strong wine stirring reckless thoughts.

They each made excuses to leave their seats. Peeking through the carved windows, they spotted Princess Danyang passed out on a bed, her red dress flowing like a blooming peony, the rise and fall of her chest making their throats tighten.

They glanced at each other, awkwardly turning away, pretending to stay composed.

“This wine… sure is strong,” one muttered.

“It really is,” the other agreed.

“Brother Liu, I’ll go clear my head outside.”

“I’ll come too.”

As they left, Chu Huaiyao quickly circled back, heart pounding in his chest. Seeing no one around, he pushed open the door to the side hall. The two eunuchs guarding the entrance not only didn’t stop him but even quietly closed the door behind him, snuffing out two candles.

Seeing this, Chu Huaiyao felt sure — not only was his father and Chancellor Meng helping him behind the scenes, but even the emperor must have tacitly approved. Everyone wanted the princess married off.

Emboldened by wine and desire, he stepped closer and reached for her skirt — Only to be shoved away with great force.

The one who shoved him was Su Run.

Su Run, seeing Danyang leave earlier, had hesitated before following, and was now furious at the sight before him. His black eyes practically blazed with anger.
“Have you lost your mind?” he snapped.

Chu Huaiyao, interrupted and furious, grabbed Su Run by the collar and shoved him aside.
Trying to keep his temper, he said, “Becoming the princess’s husband is inevitable. She’s drunk — I’m just checking on her. What’s it to you?”

“You’re trying to take advantage of her,” Su Run shot back.

Chu Huaiyao laughed coldly.

“Take advantage? She’s not even a virgin. You think palace noblewomen are so pure?
Haven’t you ever touched her? And even if you haven’t, how do you know she’d mind?”

Su Run, furious, slapped him hard across the face.

Meanwhile, Liu Dan sneaked into the side hall too, emboldened by the eunuchs’ silent consent.
Seeing Chu Huaiyao and Su Run fighting, he froze in shock. Panicking, he tried to retreat —
But suddenly, from under the bed and around the doors, a team of dark-clad guards rushed out, pinning Chu Huaiyao and Liu Dan to the floor.

A figure in bright red official robes entered — skin pale as jade, lips as red as flowers.

It was Lu Huating.

Lu Huating glanced at Su Run, then tossed a clean handkerchief at him and bowed to Princess Danyang:

“Your Highness, these two tried to assault you during the banquet. Shall I arrest them?”

Princess Danyang, who had been awake and listening the whole time, wiped her tears on her sleeve and gave a dazzling smile.

Lu Huating smiled slightly and said, “Princess, even Sanlang calls you ‘big sister.’ You’ve traveled the world; you’re far beyond the reach of ordinary women. No need to panic over marriage. A marriage without true heart is worse than sleeping with a ghost. Better to stay free.”

Hearing this, Danyang rose and kicked each man in the chest.

“Just two cups of wine, and you show your true colors! Tie them up! I’m taking them to see the emperor.”

Only then did Chu Huaiyao and Liu Dan realize — They had been trapped from the very beginning: From the wine, to the drunk act, to the side hall… Everything had been a setup.

Now, caught like rats in a trap, they went pale and began begging for mercy.

Just then, a deafening explosion rocked the palace, making the walls tremble.

“Fire! Quick, get water! Prince Zhao’s puppet fireworks exploded!”

Immediately, everyone rushed toward the fire.

The so-called “puppet fireworks” hid mechanical dolls inside the fireworks. When ignited, the dolls and lanterns would leap out one after another, putting on a dazzling show.

Prince Zhao had ordered them from Jiangnan. Tests had gone smoothly, but tonight, after the first few puppets appeared, something went wrong — A cart of fireworks exploded all at once.
The flying dolls, lit ablaze, smashed into the roof, sending showers of sparks down onto the nobles.

Before anyone could react, Prince Zhao himself threw himself over Emperor Chenming, shielding him with his own body. Fiery embers burned into his back.

Only then did the palace erupt into screams and chaos.

Zhu Shangyi almost fainted from fear — but Qun Qing, without hesitation, grabbed a water bucket from the corner and doused Prince Zhao.

She didn’t know why the fireworks exploded, but she knew one thing: If Prince Zhao was injured saving the emperor, no matter who was at fault, sympathy would shield him from blame.

Ordinary people could never compete with a prince. All her efforts would be wasted.

Whether from pain or fury, Prince Zhao turned his pale, drenched face toward Qun Qing and glared at her. Had the emperor not been there, he might have torn her apart on the spot.

The palace guards quickly extinguished the fire and gathered everyone into one place.

At that moment, a young scholar stepped forward, holding a turtle shell used for divination.

He knelt and said, “I am Yang Chang from the Astrology Bureau. Earlier, I divined a Li Hexagram — fire misfortune — and moved the event to a safer palace. Yet disaster still struck. I divined again just now — the Li Hexagram appeared once more. I fear someone has used the art of Yansheng to curse the palace, targeting the emperor’s virtue.”

He hesitated, then added, “Judging from the signs… the culprit is likely a woman. And very possibly… a spy from Southern Chu.”

The dark arts of Yansheng had been popular among the common folk for years—so much so that even palace women secretly feared its power.

Yang Chang was nothing more than a mid-ranking clerk in the Astrology Bureau, yet if he seized this chance to curry favor with His Highness, he might well rise in rank and fortune. His sudden presence before Li Pan was like a lifeline thrown at the prince’s feet. Overjoyed, Li Pan fixed Yang Chang with a gleam in his eye, as if promising him high office and a lavish salary, and said, 

“Very well—just tell me who you suspect.”

The assembled nobles turned to the court diviner. He met their gazes with steely calm. “Whomever Your Highness names—that is your culprit.”

Li Pan’s brow furrowed. “That person of ill intent—my mother’s spirit may have just sent us a sign.” He snapped his fingers, whispering orders to the eunuchs: 

“Search Qun Qing’s quarters. Find any proof.”

At once, a murmur rippled through the crowd, recalling the broken Guanyin statue from moments before. Though they’d smoothed over that embarrassment, the memory still felt ominous.

A breathless eunuch hurried forward. “Your Majesty, Your Highness—this was discovered in Qun Qing’s residence.”

He dropped a ceremonial whisk and a carved peach-wood doll onto the floor. Everyone recoiled half a step, eyes snapping to Qun Qing.

Qun Qing recognized the doll at once. It was the same one she’d planted to curse Lu Huating back when she first went undercover—and which she’d presumed long since destroyed alongside her notes.

She glanced up to see Ruochan being dragged in, bound and terrified. Qun Qing removed a folded cloth from her sash and offered it. Ruochan’s voice trembled: “My ladies, these are mine. I once served as a nun—this whisk is for blessing rituals, nothing more. It has no connection to—”

Before she could finish, Lan Yue—one of the Qingxuan Pavilion attendants—stepped forward. “Ruochan uses that whisk legitimately. We in Qingxuan know it isn’t a cursed tool.”

Li Pan bent to prod the peach-wood doll with his toe, then looked up at Qun Qing. 

“Then how do you explain this? Nobody prays with something like that.”

Zheng Ziyi and Lan Yue exchanged glances. From its shape alone, that doll looked exactly like the sinister talisman they all feared. There was no easy excuse left.

“Who said no one uses this thing to pray for blessings?” A voice sounded.

Immediately, a slender hand picked up the peach wood doll from Li Pan’s feet.

The close attendants couldn’t help but whisper among themselves:

“Why is Advisor Lu back so soon?”

Lu Huating focused his gaze, carefully examining the little peachwood doll in his hand. Then he tightened his grip around it and said, “Your Highness, this item was a gift from me to Miss Qing. It was meant for a blessing. See, my name is written on it.”

As he spoke, he flipped the doll around. Li Pan’s expression subtly shifted — sure enough, Lu Huating’s name was stitched right onto the peachwood figure. The noble onlookers covered their mouths, torn between laughter and shock.

Li Pan sneered, “And you dare use a peachwood doll for blessings? Aren’t you afraid it’ll bring you an early death, Advisor Lu?”

Lu Huating chuckled, “Your Highness jests. Haven’t you heard of ‘substitution rituals’? The doll takes the misfortune in my stead. With that, I can fight on the battlefield and come back undefeated.”

“Has the rebellion been pacified then?” Emperor Chenming finally spoke up.

Lu Huating immediately composed himself and bowed, “Thanks to the blessings, the unrest in the three cities has been quelled. Prince Yan sent me back to deliver the good news, Your Majesty.”

The emperor exhaled lightly, but despite the news, his face remained clouded, especially as the sounds of eunuchs rushing to put out fires echoed outside.

Soon, an officer from the Imperial Guards hurried in and knelt, reporting: “Your Majesty, the firework cart has been extinguished and buried. However, the cart was carrying illegal explosives — weapons not permitted inside the palace grounds.”

Li Pan quickly cut in, “I personally oversaw all inspections. How could there suddenly be forbidden weapons? Investigate immediately! Find out who planted them — we must not let anyone who endangers the palace go unpunished!”

Lu Huating spoke up mildly, “Perhaps Your Highness should think carefully. After all, the legal fireworks and the contraband explosives were all transported on the same ship. A mix-up by the workers below isn’t impossible.”

Li Pan suddenly snapped his head around to look at Lu Huating’s young, striking face, his eyes filled with disbelief.

Without waiting, Lu Huating drew a memorial from his sleeve and offered it to the emperor, 

“The Dark Guards of Prince Yan’s household discovered that a fireworks shop in the city was hiding forbidden explosives. They had monopolized the market, driving out legitimate shops. Tracing the trail, we found that the shop… was linked to Your Highness’s business interests. I had my suspicions and intensified inspections, but unfortunately, we were still too late. As for what happened today — Your Highness knows better than anyone. Yet instead of explaining, you try to muddy the waters with talk of witchcraft.”

A wave of shock rippled through the hall. Li Pan opened his mouth to defend himself, but no words came — he couldn’t refute it.

Meanwhile, Meng Guangshen’s face darkened, and he secretly clenched his fists inside his sleeves.

Emperor Chenming finished reading the memorial. His anger boiled over; his hands trembled as he threw it down. Despite Li Pan kneeling and begging for forgiveness, the emperor shouted “unfilial son!” three times.

“You’re useless in serious matters but an expert at lining your pockets! Is this how you repay my efforts to raise you? Is this how you honor your late mother’s dying wishes?”

Li Xuan tried to step in, “Father, maybe we should investigate further…”

“If you dare plead for him, I’ll punish you too!”

Terror seized Li Pan. He collapsed fully onto the ground, trembling uncontrollably.

The emperor’s voice rang out, sharp and cold:

“Strip Li Pan of his title as Prince Zhao. Demote him to a mere commandery prince. Confine him in the palace under house arrest — no release without imperial order!”

It was as good as erasing him completely.

Li Pan choked out, “Father… Father, I swear, I’m innocent—!”

Qun Qing watched silently as Li Pan struggled and thrashed, his bloodstained robe dragging across the floor, until the guards hauled him away, vanishing through the grand doors. Only then did she finally release the breath she’d been holding.

Just then, Zheng Fu entered, wiping the sweat from his neck, and reported, “Your Majesty, the palace’s water reserves are used up. Even fetching more from Qujiang Pool will take some time. Also, the wind outside is picking up — if the sparks spread to the rooftops downwind, we might need to tear down parts of the structures to prevent disaster.”

Qun Qing suddenly thought of something and spoke up, “There are old tunnels under the palace grounds from the former Chu dynasty. There should be cisterns down there, filled with rainwater. We can access them through the west wing of the Liangyi Hall.”

Empress Ma immediately instructed a female officer, “See? The Shangyi Bureau really has capable people. Go quickly — show the way!”

The female official lifted her skirts and rushed out. As Qun Qing moved to follow, she brushed past Lu Huating at the door.

She muttered under her breath, “You switched the fireworks, didn’t you?”

Without even looking at her, Lu Huating answered with a faint smile, “You’re still too soft. At this rate, how will you ever get your revenge? Consider this my wedding gift to you…”

Before he could finish, Qun Qing had already slipped past him and out the door.

Lu Huating lowered his lashes and looked down at the peachwood doll in his hand — a silver needle still pierced through it.