Little Pink Starfish

The Screams from the Dungeon

With no sign of hope in sight, Tian Xingzi still tried to escape, but he couldn’t dodge Yu Xiaoxiao’s incoming slap. The old Daoist collapsed under her palm again, falling unconscious on the spot.

Yu Xiaoxiao dusted off her hands and said to Jing Mo, “Tie him up tonight and take him to Mo Wen. Let him enjoy the view.”

Jing Mo had no words left. All he could do was nod in silence.

Xiao Wei kept glancing toward the unconscious Wuhuan, anxiety clouding his expression. “Do you think he can hang on until we bring the antidote back?”

Yu Xiaoxiao said confidently, “I think so.”

Jing Mo cleared his throat. At this point, he decided to believe in the princess’s intuition.

Meanwhile, in the imperial palace of Fengtian, Mo Wen still sat in the grand hall, idly turning a teacup in his hand. He glanced at the emperor and asked, “The princess called herself Yu Xiaoxiao earlier. Is that really her name?”

A normal father might have hesitated—after all, his daughter was clearly named Yu Linglong. But Emperor Xianzhong had never been a normal man. Without missing a beat, he replied, “Ah, Master, you didn’t know? That’s Linglong’s childhood nickname.” (Let us all firmly believe that the emperor and the princess are indeed biologically related.)

“She seemed to recognize me,” Mo Wen said again.

Xianzhong replied quickly, “Master, Linglong was raised deep within the palace. How could she have ever had the fortune to meet you? It’s only that I sometimes reminisced with her about my time studying at Yongsheng Temple. She’s admired you for a long time.”

“Really?”

“When has this sovereign ever lied to you, Master?” Xianzhong asked shamelessly.

Mo Wen chuckled lightly. “She is a fine daughter.”

“Yes!” Xianzhong agreed enthusiastically, feeling an inexplicable wave of sadness. Such a good daughter—and yet she drives me insane every single day.

Mo Wen put the teacup down and stood. “I’ll take my leave. I won’t trouble Your Majesty further.”

Xianzhong stood as well, saying with forced politeness, “I could never view Master’s visit as a disturbance. Please, stay in Fengtian for as long as you wish.” (And silently, “Please leave as soon as possible!”)

Mo Wen didn’t respond, but his smile grew even more benevolent. With robes fluttering despite the still air, he walked toward the palace gates with an aura of heavenly transcendence.

Xianzhong looked down at his own dragon robes and then at the departing Mo Wen. Why did it feel like Mo Wen was still the one reigning above him? Was he still that little boy who wet himself in fear at Yongsheng Temple? Heartache.

At the palace gates, Mo Wen suddenly said, “Zhao Qiuming.”

Xianzhong immediately replied, “Don’t worry, Master. I won’t let that scoundrel off easy!”

Mo Wen chuckled, “I doubt Chancellor Zhao really meant to harm Fenglin. He seems seriously injured as well. Don’t make things difficult for him just yet.”

“I will obey Master’s word,” Xianzhong said with a wide smile—and a heart full of unease. Could Zhao Qiuming have ties to Yongsheng Temple that I don’t know about?

Mo Wen walked out of the palace while Xianzhong, panting and wheezing, accompanied him all the way from the royal study to the gates. The normally sedentary emperor was exhausted.

As Mo Wen entered his sedan, he lifted the curtain slightly and said to Xianzhong, “The girl who attacked Fenglin—make sure she’s sent to Hugguo Temple as soon as possible.”

Xianzhong agreed immediately. He could hardly keep his own daughter alive—how was he supposed to care about Zhao Qiuming’s daughter? Even emperors had limits.

—

In the dungeons of the Department of Punishments, Consort Hua stood over the collapsed form of Zhao Yingqin and chuckled softly. “Sister Zhao, quite a clever little scheme you had.”

Zhao Yingqin, now disheveled and bloodied, lay crumpled in a heap. Despite the grime and damage, her beauty still shone through—her natural grace hard to conceal.

Consort Hua knew Emperor Xianzhong well. Looking at Zhao Yingqin’s lovely face, she needed no further explanation. She gave her maidservant a look.

The maid immediately dragged Zhao Yingqin forward by her hair and dumped her before Consort Hua.

The consort nudged Zhao Yingqin’s chin up with the tip of her shoe. “You must be disappointed. You visited your sister in the palace, but she didn’t take you to see His Majesty?”

“No…” Zhao Yingqin shook her head weakly, her scalp burning with pain.

“Is that so?” Consort Hua smiled. At her age, the corners of her eyes already held noticeable wrinkles.

Another maid brought over a small wooden bottle and presented it to Consort Hua.

Taking the bottle, Consort Hua sighed. “What a lovely face. If His Majesty saw you like this, he’d be overjoyed.”

Tears streamed from Zhao Yingqin’s eyes. A truly beautiful woman could still look stunning even when she cried—and Zhao Yingqin was one of those rare few.

—

Outside the dungeon courtyard, Gu Xingnuo stood waiting. The eunuch in charge of the place had informed him that Consort Hua was visiting the prison, and Gu Xingnuo had politely said, “Then I’ll wait here for a while.”

Though this eunuch was one of Jinzhong’s many adopted sons, he dared not show Gu Xingnuo any disrespect. He quietly withdrew without asking what Gu Xingnuo was doing there.

Once the courtyard was empty, one of Gu Xingnuo’s trusted guards muttered, “Why would a consort come down into the dungeons?”

Gu Xingnuo only smiled. He knew exactly why. Consort Hua and the others in the harem wouldn’t rest until Zhao Yingqin’s face was ruined—her beauty was too dangerous to be left intact.

Glancing down at his own hands, Gu Xingnuo reflected—no one could tell just how much blood these hands had shed. Now that Consort Zhao had fallen from favor and Yu Ziming had gone to Zhuri, it was Crown Prince Yu Ziqing’s time to rise. He was the eldest son, after all.

A cold glint flashed in Gu Xingnuo’s eyes, followed by a mocking smile. Foolish woman, he thought. The more dominant your position, the more you must tread carefully. In the struggle for power, the first to die is always the one who can’t keep their temper.

—

Back in the dungeon, Consort Hua tipped the contents of the wooden bottle.

Zhao Yingqin’s flesh immediately began to blister and peel from her face. Her shrill, bloodcurdling screams echoed through the entire dungeon, chilling every corner of the imperial prison.