Chapter 3: A Petty Person Who Seeks Revenge

Those few words, falling on Jiang Lingzhi's ears, felt like a heavenly pardon. She suddenly looked up, her eyes blazing with the fire of a sudden spark.

Though she didn't know why Xiao Yuan had chosen her, it meant at least one thing:

She would live!

"Yes," she replied, her voice like silk, yet surprisingly steady.

With her slender hand, she picked up the gold-inlaid wine pot with its dragon pattern from the table. She tilted it slightly, and a stream of amber light flowed precisely into Xiao Yuan's golden cup, neither spilling nor overflowing, filling it to precisely eight-tenths full.

From the throne, Xiao Yang, having received the answer, lazily lifted an eyelid and glanced at the ashen-faced Young Master Tian.

The Golden Armored Guards standing by the hall's side immediately stepped forward. Their iron-like hands clamped onto the youth's shoulders, dragging him out without allowing him to struggle.

"No! Your Highness! Your Highness..."

The youth's desperate wail tore through the tense air of the hall. His struggling figure cast a distorted shadow across the mirror-like golden bricks, his pleas echoing through the carved beams and painted rafters until they were swallowed by the darkness outside, followed by a sharp, final thud.

The hall fell into deathly silence once more.

The music had long ceased, and every breath could be heard.

The air still hung thick with the stench of blood, bizarrely mingled with the cloying aroma of wine and women's cosmetics, making her stomach churn.

For the first time, she truly felt death's presence—not by hearing of it, but by witnessing a living soul crushed to dust like an ant, all for the amusement of those in power.

Even more absurd was the faint thread of karma that seemed to connect this death to the risky gamble she had just taken.

Yet, the emotion that surged most fiercely in her heart wasn't guilt, but relief at surviving.

Relief that... Xiao Yuan had chosen her.

Her gaze involuntarily drifted to Xiao Yuan's side.

She saw Xiao Yuan lowering her eyes, leisurely wiping the palm of her left hand with the edge of her dark, gold-embroidered sleeve, as if trying to scrub away some invisible filth.

She thought she understood why Xiao Yuan had chosen her.

Jiang Lingzhi subtly shifted her body away and warned herself not to repeat the mistakes of that young master Tian.

If she displeased Xiao Yuan again, there would be no other "child of the Tian family" to shield her from the consequences next time.

Having clawed her way back from the brink of death, Jiang Lingzhi was now on high alert. She quickly sensed a gaze from the throne.

The cold, venomous hatred clung to her like a festering wound.

Her eyes flickered sideways, stealing a glance.

It was Consort Tian, one of the Nine Consorts who sat alongside her.

The beauty remained seated, but her exquisite eyes were locked onto Jiang Lingzhi, her brow frozen in a glacial expression, her pupils churning with bone-deep loathing.

Jiang Lingzhi recalled Consort Tian's origins—the Tian clan of Xunyang.

That explains it.

She wondered what relation the unjustly slain Young Master Tian had been to the consort, but Consort Tian's resentment seemed utterly unreasonable.

Shouldn't her hatred be directed at the Xiao siblings on the throne, those who had manipulated the court and brought ruin?

Xiao Yuan rubbed the sticky residue from her sleeve, then turned to notice her "Director of Wine" seemed rather distracted.

She tapped twice on the rosewood table inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

Knock, knock.

The sound was soft, yet it struck Jiang Lingzhi's ears like a thunderclap.

She snapped back to attention, her gaze dropping to Xiao Yuan's hand resting on the table.

The fingers were long and slender, with well-proportioned bones and flesh. Beneath the ivory skin, faint blue veins pulsed, radiating a sense of power.

On the right thumb, a jade ring gleamed like water, its depths seeming to hold a dark pool that shimmered faintly under the palace lanterns.

At a time like this, she still had the leisure to admire the exquisite quality of the jade.

Jiang Lingzhi smiled wryly to herself.

Until the thumb wearing the jade ring gave an almost imperceptible upward flick, signaling that her cup was empty.

Jiang Lingzhi immediately picked up the wine pot and refilled it.

Xiao Yuan's gaze fell upon her hand as she poured.

Her delicate fingers were as steady as a scale, not a single thread of the intricate lotus pattern on her sleeve's cuff wavered.

The wine flowed in a thin stream, stopping precisely at the rim of the cup, creating a ring of fine golden ripples.

Xiao Yuan's eyes followed that steady arm upward, sweeping over the graceful curve of her neck, before finally resting on the waterfall of raven-black hair.

The updo had loosened slightly from her previous movements, allowing a few strands of dark silk to fall against her neck, accentuating the porcelain fairness of her skin.

"Your hair," Xiao Yuan said suddenly, her voice devoid of emotion, "is exceptionally well-maintained."

This hair had indeed been meticulously cared for.

Before the banquet, Yueya had used fresh flower dew and a touch of tea oil to imbue each strand with a lustrous, ink-black sheen. It flowed like the finest Jiangnan ink-satin, shimmering with a deep blue luster under the lamplight.

Yet when Jiang Lingzhi heard these words, her heart tightened.

After a night of profound realization, she finally understood: the sweet words spoken by the Xiao siblings were not necessarily good words!

Indeed, before she could react, Xiao Yang, seated on the throne, clapped his hands and laughed. "If the Imperial Sister favors it, then it is her good fortune! Guards—"

Jiang Lingzhi's pupils constricted!

The heavy footsteps of the Golden Armored Guards approached, their swords and armor clashing with a cold, metallic clang.

In a flash, those horrifying records from the Jiang Clan's intelligence flashed through her mind:

A concubine with beautiful eyes had her eyes gouged out and presented at the Imperial Presence.

A noblewoman with a melodious voice had her throat slit to remove her vocal cords...

Xiao Clan's "favor" was arsenic disguised in honey, a blade hanging over her neck.

She couldn't sit idly by!

To prevent Xiao Yang from ordering her head chopped off to please his elder sister, it was better to strike first.

"Your Majesty!" Jiang Lingzhi rose abruptly, her wide sleeves scattering the jade brush and inkstone on the table.

Her clear voice cut through the approaching footsteps and echoed through the silent hall.

"If the Eldest Princess favors this consort's black tresses, it is my honor! This consort is willing to offer my hair. If Your Highness would accept, I would cherish it even more dearly and strive to cultivate even more beautiful hair for Your Highness!"

Before her words had fully faded, she raised her hand and removed the pale green jade magnolia leaf hairpin from her temple.

Like ink-black clouds cascading, like a river of stars descending, her three thousand strands of dark hair instantly broke free from their bonds, cascading across her slender shoulders and back, falling past her waist. Under the glow of the palace lanterns, they shimmered with a fluid, ethereal light.

Under the gaze of all present, she turned to Xiao Yuan, her eyes clear and her posture resolute. "I must borrow Your Highness's blade."

With that, she drew the turquoise-inlaid dagger from Xiao Yuan's diexie belt. The moment the blade was unsheathed, its cold gleam, like snow, illuminated her calm eyes and brow.

This was a fine blade, one that could be carried in the Imperial Presence—one of Xiao Yuan's many privileges.

Jiang Lingzhi gripped a thick handful of hair at the nape of her neck and, without hesitation, pressed the sharp edge against the roots.

Shhh—

The faint sound of the blade slicing through hair rang out in the deathly silent hall.

The dagger, capable of cutting through iron, sliced through the strands of hair as effortlessly as cutting through water.

A large handful of thick, lustrous black hair fell, severed at the roots, from Jiang Lingzhi's body.

The severed hair, like lifeless silk, was gathered in her hands and raised before Xiao Yuan, held above her brow.

The ends still held a trace of body warmth, the strands cascading down her chilled wrists.

The entire hall gasped in shock.

For a woman to cut her hair was akin to disfiguring herself, a form of self-destruction.

Jiang Lingzhi's movements were swift and decisive, leaving Xiao Yang no time to react.

As he watched the woman present her severed hair, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, quickly transforming into undisguised admiration.

He clapped his hands and laughed heartily. "Excellent! My beloved consort truly has a heart! Bestow rewards!"

He turned to whisper a few words to his personal eunuch. After learning of Jiang Lingzhi's status, he announced loudly, "By imperial decree, the Jiang Clan's Lingzhi, being intelligent, resourceful, and deeply favored by this emperor, is hereby promoted to the rank of Consort!"

His gaze swept over Jiang Lingzhi's pale yet still stunningly beautiful face. "We grant her the title of Rong."

To demonstrate his favor, a cascade of rewards followed like a flowing river: a hundred bolts of brocade, a peck of pearls, and several sets of gold jewelry.

Jiang Lingzhi knelt gracefully, her forehead touching the cold floor tiles. "This consort thanks Your Majesty for your boundless grace, and the Princess Royal for her kindness."

As she bowed, no one saw the utterly contemptuous curve of her lips.

This was the Xiao Imperial Clan—so absurd, so contrary to worldly conventions.

Some could fall into eternal damnation with a single misspoken word, while others could ascend to the heavens through acts like cutting their hair and defiling their appearance.

What a... thrilling and exhilarating gamble!

The stakes, however, were truly immense.

As Jiang Lingzhi rose, she suddenly felt the weight lift from the back of her neck. A chill swept over the exposed skin, giving her the fleeting illusion that her head might be severed.

She instinctively raised a hand, her trembling fingers brushing against the side of her neck, confirming the steady pulse of blood beneath the skin.

A soft snort of amusement came from beside her.

Jiang Lingzhi looked up, meeting Xiao Yuan's downward gaze.

Those raven-black eyes, deep and fathomless, clearly reflected her current state—disheveled hair, unevenly cut short, wrinkled robes, and a face pale with the terror of a startled bird.

She was mocking her.

Jiang Lingzhi lowered her head, pursing her lips. Somehow, she understood the reason for this sudden, unprovoked danger.

This was Xiao Yuan's revenge for Jiang Lingzhi using her as a human shield earlier.

What a petty and vindictive woman!

To casually threaten someone's life over a single remark... If Jiang Lingzhi hadn't reacted quickly enough, she might have died here today.

Jiang Lingzhi gritted her teeth inwardly but forced herself to smile.

One could not defy the Son of Heaven on his throne, and one certainly could not offend the Eldest Princess beside him, who held the power of life and death in her hands.

During the reign of the last emperor of the previous dynasty, a man known for his foolishness, this pair of siblings, blessed with peerless beauty, were presented as rare treasures to the imperial court by noble clans, all to entertain their sovereign.

A nursery rhyme spread across the land:

Two jade treasures enter the palace walls,

Like mandarin ducks, they nestle by the emperor's side,

While he drowns in wine.

Later, a palace coup erupted, and the last emperor died suddenly. Xiao Yuan personally helped her younger brother, Xiao Yang, ascend the dragon throne.

From that moment on, the Princess Protector, who had been granted a royal title and a fief of two hundred thousand households for her military achievements, wielded power rivaling that of the emperor himself.

Therefore, currying favor with Xiao Yuan was a matter of pure benefit, with no downside.

Jiang Lingzhi pretended not to understand the meaning in Xiao Yuan's eyes. Instead, she carefully tucked the uneven strands of hair behind her ear, smoothed her slightly disheveled robes, and picked up the golden kettle again to refill Xiao Yuan's wine cup.

Her posture remained as elegant as ever, a gentle smile gracing her lips, as if the earlier, terrifying punishment of cutting her hair had never happened.

Xiao Yuan gazed at her.

Though the magnolia might be battered by wind and rain, its branches broken and its blossoms stripped away, the inherent warmth and elegance rooted in its core only shone more brightly.

Her short hair clung to the exquisite curve of her cheek, accentuating the delicate shape of her face and the translucent quality of her skin.

Beneath that cold, pale complexion, faint blue veins glimmered faintly, like the ice-cracked surface of premium porcelain, exuding a breathtaking, fragile beauty.

Interesting!

Truly interesting!

As the moon reached its zenith, the young emperor finally grew weary, covering his mouth as he stifled a languid yawn.

The night banquet, where blood mingled with music and fear danced with absurdity, slowly drew to a close with the silent fall of a noble son and the hair-cutting ceremony of a newly promoted consort.

When Xiao Yuan rose to leave, she deliberately took the bundle of hair, carefully wrapped in brocade.

Three feet of dark, lustrous strands, still warm to the touch.

As she reached the palace gate, she paused briefly. Without turning, she let a light remark drift on the night breeze:

"Such beautiful hair—what a pity."

Jiang Lingzhi bowed respectfully as the imperial carriage departed. Hearing her words, she merely lowered her head even lower.