Shang Yang did not get up, but moved her body stiffly further into the warmth of the seat to make room, then said lightly to Zhao Hua:
"Sit down. Life and death are but a fleeting moment, there is no hurry right now."
Zhao Hua did not speak, but walked slowly to the warm seat.
Xiao Fuzi hurried to stop in front of her and shook his head, whispering: "My Lady, you must not..."
"It's fine."
Zhao Hua gently patted Xiao Fuzi's shoulder to signal him to step aside and keep watch.
After she sat down next to Shang Yang, a faint smell of blood immediately entered her nostrils.
Mixed in that smell was a faint acidity, unbearable.
However, Zhao Hua did not cover her nose with a veil, but her eyes fell on Shang Yang, scanning her up and down.
Shang Yang had been imprisoned in the water dungeon for a long time, and the skin on her body had wrinkled somewhat from the soaking,
Even though she had changed into new clothes, the wounds inflicted by the interrogators were still visible as blood red imprints on the new clothes.
She was completely listless, looking just like a wilted flower.
Recalling five years ago when Zhao Hua first saw Shang Yang,
with arched eyebrows and peach blossom eyes, small nose and mouth, rosy cheeks like peach blossoms, dressed in expensive silks and satins, jewels and jades worth a fortune,
which set off her noble and pure temperament.
But looking at the person in front now, it was very difficult to associate her with the bright and beautiful one in her memories.
Zhao Hua could not help but feel sad in her heart for a long time without speaking.
It was Shang Yang who saw the pity in her eyes and quickly said jokingly:
"The way you're looking at me now is exactly the same as the way I looked at you when you entered the Cold Palace." Survival of the fittest applies not only among men, but also among women. So you don't need to pity me. Go ahead, how does Xiao Jingheng plan to have me put to death?"
She uttered the word "death" lightly, as if it had already become a relief.
Zhao Hua asked lightly: "After fighting and struggling in the palace for so long, was it all just for a single word of 'death'?"
Shang Yang glanced contemptuously at her, then turned her face away with a sad smile:
"If I had a choice, how could I be willing to fight and grab, staining my own hands with blood?"
She stretched her neck and held her head high, staring blankly at the last glimpse of crimson dusk outside the window, sighing:
"My mother was the abbess of the Candle Shade Herbal Hall. She was benevolent and gracious, helping those in need. The people of Candle Shade all respectfully called her the living bodhisattva. I grew up without a father and was raised solely by my mother, who taught me moral principles.
My mother had so many teachings that my ears nearly grew calluses. She often said, 'Yang'er, being born human, you must always remember to keep kind thoughts, and not take lives indiscriminately. By accumulating virtue, even if others don't know, Heaven will always see and reward you in the end.'
When I was young, I followed my mother to worship Buddha and eat vegetarian food, and was extremely pious. I was also once a little girl who would cry at the sight of a wounded rabbit..."
As Shang Yang spoke, she laughed at herself scornfully.
Staring into the distance as the glow of dusk gradually faded away, the inky night devoured the last fiery colors at the edge of the sky,
just as she was being eroded bit by bit, unable to diffuse the darkness.
"But what about now?"
She looked down at her hands, pale and swollen from being soaked in icy water and clamped, sorrowful yet smiling.
"Even I don't know when I started becoming numb to killing people. But I don't think I'm wrong at all. Where there are people, there is struggle.
The women in this palace all have their own schemes, striving for personal favor and glory for their maternal families. Who doesn't compete and grab? Our intentions are all the same, none of us much cleaner than the others."
As she spoke, her expression suddenly became stern as she glared back at Zhao Hua and retorted, "Including you, right?"
Zhao Hua did not answer.
She gently stroked her temple, looking at Shang Yang with a shallow smile.
As daylight faded, even sitting face to face she could no longer clearly make out Shang Yang's expression.
So she casually took the firestick on the table, struck a flame and lit a nearly burnt-out candle.
The flickering candlelight highlighted Zhao Hua's breathtaking beauty.
Shang Yang stared at her intently.
As a fellow woman, from the first moment Shang Yang saw Zhao Hua, she already knew this peerlessly beautiful woman would become her strongest opponent in the future.
A slightly twisted smile emerged on Shang Yang's gaunt and sunken face.
"Lady Song, you must hate and resent me right? If not for me, your son would not have died. Your future path would have been much smoother."
Zhao Hua still did not answer, but instead took a silver pick and idly poked at the blazing wick.
It was Xiao Fuzi who sternly spoke up from the side,
"The Second Prince has the blessings of Heaven protecting him, how could he be harmed by your sinister plot? His Majesty long ago saw through your ambitions. The Second Prince was not buried in the imperial tomb. Instead, His Majesty entrusted him to the care of trusted allies in Hengzhou. Now that you and Prince Qi's actions have been exposed and you can no longer pose a threat, a few days ago His Majesty brought the Second Prince back to the palace, naturally he is safe and sound."
"Safe and sound?"
Shang Yang's eyes bulged wide, her breathing suddenly becoming hurried, her chest heaving violently,
"What did you say? You said it was Xiao Jingheng who saved him? Hahahahaha!"
Her abrupt burst of laughter was as shrill as a night owl's cry, no longer like her former sweet silvery bells, sending chills through the heart.
"Is that possible? With his tendency to rather wrongly kill a hundred than let one slip by, if he had known my identity early on, would I still be alive today? Lady Song, do you actually believe such nonsense?"
