PFC Chapter 598
Chapter 598
In the carved bronze mirror, Dongfang Wan'er gazed at the still somewhat childish face reflected in it. Her fingertips gently traced the smooth forehead of the girl in the mirror, the excruciating pain from when Ye Jingchu pierced her brow with a golden hairpin in her past life still seeming to linger. Outside the window, crabapple petals fluttered down, and she suddenly gripped the edge of her vanity case tightly. The gilded rhombus pattern prickled her palm, causing a sharp pain, but it was nothing compared to the surging hatred in her heart.
The gilded incense burner on the desk was emitting wisps of smoke. In a daze, those bloody memories surged like a tide—Ye Jingchu embracing Dongfang Mingzhu and feigning tears, the silver needles hidden in Dongfang Mingzhu's wide sleeves gleaming coldly, the bowl of poisoned porridge with the aroma of medicine that she had been forced to drink... A bitter, rusty taste rose in her throat. She suddenly grabbed the bronze mirror and smashed it heavily on the ground. The shattered mirror reflected countless distorted versions of herself.
"Miss!" The hurried footsteps of a maidservant came from outside the door. Dongfang Wan'er took a deep breath, bent down to pick up the largest piece of mirror, looked at the eerie light flickering in her eyes in the mirror, and pressed the broken mirror tightly into her palm. Blood slowly dripped from between her fingers, spreading like red plum blossoms on the blue bricks, but she revealed her first smile since her rebirth, a smile colder than the frost of the twelfth lunar month.
"Creak—" The carved wooden door was pushed open, and the maid Chun Tao rushed in, the silk flower at her temple tilting to one side as she ran: "Miss! His Highness the Crown Prince has sent someone to present the betrothal gifts!" Before she finished speaking, Dongfang Wan'er had already hidden the blood-stained handkerchief in her sleeve, the pain in her fingertips only making her more lucid. In her past life, it was this very betrothal letter that had plunged her into an abyss of no return.
She lowered her eyes to conceal the murderous intent surging within them, her voice as gentle as willow branches in spring: "Understood. Go and tell the messenger that I need to consider it for a few days." After Chun Tao curtsied and withdrew, Dongfang Wan'er walked to the window, gazing towards the palace walls with a cold smile. What the Crown Prince had sent was not a betrothal letter, but a death warrant—in her past life, she had happily accepted the marriage, unaware that the bridal sedan chair would carry her directly to the gates of hell.
As dusk crept over the windowpane, Dongfang Wan'er unfurled a yellowed map. The candlelight cast her shadow on the wall, like a lurking beast. Her maternal grandparents' iron cavalry guarding the border, the noble ladies her mother had befriended, and the shops secretly acquired by Dongfang Mingzhu… Her fingertips traced the marks on the map, and clues she had overlooked in her past life now shone like pearls strung together, gradually becoming clear in her mind.
Suddenly, the hooting of an owl echoed outside the window. Dongfang Wan'er rose and pushed open the carved window, letting in moonlight that bathed the Taihu stones in the courtyard in a frosty white hue. She reached out and caught a falling begonia petal, watching it slowly wither in her palm, a dangerous smile playing on her lips. In this life, she would make Ye Jingchu taste the bitterness of betrayal and abandonment, and she would let Dongfang Mingzhu know that stolen wealth and glory would ultimately turn into a double-edged sword.
The sound of the water clock was exceptionally clear in the silence. Dongfang Wan'er carefully put away the map and took out the jade bracelet left by her mother, pressing it to her heart. The cool touch reminded her of the time when she rode horses and shot arrows in her maternal grandfather's military camp as a child. Back then, she was dashing and spirited, never imagining that she would end up with such a tragic fate.
“Wait,” she whispered to the void, her voice as soft as a sigh. “It’s my turn to play black in this game.” The crabapple tree outside the window rustled in the night wind, as if echoing her silent vow. In the distance, the watchman’s clapper sounded. Dongfang Wan’er extinguished her candle and waited quietly in the darkness for dawn—the starting point of her path of revenge.
Morning light filtered through the Xiangfei bamboo blinds, casting dappled gold spots on the sandalwood table. Dongfang Wan'er stirred the lily and lotus seed porridge in the celadon bowl with a silver spoon, watching the glistening rice grains rise and fall in the amber broth. In a daze, she recalled this moment in her past life, when she had listened with delight to Dongfang Mingzhu's sweet words, unaware of how much poison was hidden in those honeyed phrases.
"Miss, the Second Miss requests an audience." Chun Tao's voice came from outside the door, tinged with wariness. Dongfang Wan'er slowly put down the silver spoon, her fingertips gently tracing the lotus scroll pattern subtly engraved on the rim of the bowl—this was her mother's dowry, which had been cleverly seized by Dongfang Mingzhu in her previous life. She looked up at her carefully made-up face in the bronze mirror, her eyebrows and eyes full of smiles, but none reaching her eyes, like theatrical makeup painted on human skin.
As the tinkling of jade pendants grew closer, Dongfang Mingzhu, dressed in a moon-white ruqun embroidered with twin lotus blossoms, stepped lightly across the threshold. The pearl hairpins at her temples swayed gently with her movements, refracting the morning light into dappled patterns, making her delicate face appear even more charming. "Sister," she said, "I heard His Highness the Crown Prince has sent someone to propose marriage. Congratulations!" Her sweet voice was laced with honey, yet it couldn't conceal the fleeting calculation in her eyes.
Dongfang Wan'er picked up the begonia-patterned teacup, gazing at the jasmine petals floating in the tea, seemingly oblivious to the other's words. The rising steam blurred the surging hatred in her eyes. In her past life, at this very moment, she had been blinded by this hypocritical blessing, foolishly agreeing to the marriage, pushing herself into a pit of fire. "Sister, I haven't accepted the betrothal yet," she said casually, the teacup lightly tapping on the rosewood table with a crisp sound.
Dongfang Mingzhu's fingers unconsciously tightened around the embroidered handkerchief, but her smile grew even more gentle: "Sister, His Highness the Crown Prince is of noble status; this is a good thing that many people would rather die for." She took a half step forward, and the scent of camphor wafted from her wide sleeves—this incense was extremely precious, originally a gift from Dongfang Wan'er's maternal grandparents when she came of age, but now it had become a tool for Dongfang Mingzhu to display her status.
Dongfang Wan'er put down her teacup, her skirt sweeping across the sunlight like shattered gold as she rose. She walked slowly to Dongfang Mingzhu; the two were of similar height, yet their gazes pierced each other like sharp swords: "Sister, are you in such a hurry for me to agree? Is there something else on your mind?" Her voice was as soft as spring willow catkins, yet carried a chilling edge. A sudden gust of wind from outside the window whipped up the bamboo curtain, ruffling the stray hairs on her forehead, adding a touch of sharpness to her already formidable appearance.
Dongfang Mingzhu's face turned deathly pale instantly, her fingertips, embroidered with gold thread, trembled slightly. "Sister, you jest. Of course, I'm doing this for your own good." She forced a smile, but when she met Dongfang Wan'er's all-knowing eyes, her heart skipped a beat. When did the innocent and carefree sister she remembered become so cold and ruthless?
“Sister, in this life, I see through all your little tricks clearly.” Dongfang Wan’er suddenly raised her hand, her fingertips hovering over the pearl hairpin by Dongfang Mingzhu’s ear, as if to touch it yet also to crush it. Memories of her past life flashed before her eyes like a revolving lantern: the switched pregnancy-preserving medicine, the secret letter framing her maternal grandparents, and that deadly poison… “It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand,” she leaned closer, her warm breath brushing against Dongfang Mingzhu’s cold earlobe, “You just need to wait and see, I will make you pay the price.”
Oriental Pearl staggered back half a step, knocking over a display shelf. The clatter of the falling celadon vase startled the thrush under the eaves, and also made her face turn ashen. She forced a curtsy, her farewells stammering, and practically fled as she turned.
Dongfang Wan'er leaned against the carved door frame, watching the moon-white figure disappear at the end of the winding corridor. A morning breeze lifted her skirt, revealing the jade sachet her mother had left her at her waist. These treasures, stolen by Dongfang Mingzhu in her past life, had now become thorns in her heart. She reached out and caught a falling magnolia petal, gently crushing it in her palm: this game was only the beginning. As the petal dissolved into juice that seeped into the lines of her hand, she raised her eyes towards the palace wall, the killing intent in her eyes like a blade about to be drawn, chilling and menacing.
The setting sun, like blood, cast slanted shadows of the carved window lattice onto the blue brick floor. Chun Tao clutched the hem of her dress, watching Dongfang Wan'er quietly wiping her dagger behind the screen. She bit her lip, finally unable to hold back her words: "Miss, I'm afraid the Second Miss won't let this go so easily." Her voice trembled, and recalling the venomous look in Dongfang Mingzhu's eyes as she left, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
The dagger gleamed coldly in the candlelight. Dongfang Wan'er paused, then chuckled softly. Her laughter carried three parts mockery and seven parts ruthlessness, startling the swallows perched on the beams. "If she wants to fight, I'll accompany her to the end." Before she finished speaking, she suddenly gripped the dagger tightly and plunged it into the pear wood paperweight on the table. The blade sank into the wood with a dull thud, and the flying wood chips resembled the blood splattered on her face in her past life.
Chun Tao took a half-step back in fright, only to see her mistress slowly pull out the dagger and carefully wipe it on a silk handkerchief, as if her actions had been unintentional. The afterglow of the setting sun outlined the sharp lines of her profile, and her once gentle eyes were now frozen with an unyielding frost. As the last ray of golden light disappeared into the horizon, Dongfang Wan'er rose and walked towards her dressing table. Her fingertips traced the jade bracelet left by her mother, and suddenly she grabbed a gilded hairpin and snapped it in two.
As dusk settled, Chun Tao rushed into the room, panting, the silk flower at her temple soaked with sweat: "Miss! Someone just saw the Second Miss riding in a palace carriage, saying she was going to see His Highness the Crown Prince!" Dongfang Wan'er was drawing her eyebrows in front of a bronze mirror, her silver hairpin pausing between her brows, a cold smile playing on her lips in the mirror's reflection. She put down the hairpin and pulled a yellowed map from the bottom of her dressing case—a map of the villa she had secretly obtained last night under the moonlight after sneaking into the accounting office.
"Go and fetch the pair of jade earrings that were delivered the other day," Dongfang Wan'er whispered to Chun Tao, tucking the blueprints into her sleeve. As the girl listened, her initial fear gradually turned to fighting spirit. She curtsied deeply, picked up the jewelry box, and hurried away. The candlelight cast Dongfang Wan'er's shadow on the wall, making her resemble a black panther poised to pounce.
At three-quarters past midnight, dark clouds obscured the moon. Dongfang Wan'er, dressed in a tight-fitting night outfit and veiled in black gauze, moved like a ghost across the rooftops of the East Mansion. The copper bells on the eaves tinkled softly in the night breeze, but couldn't drown out her light footsteps. She gazed at the still-lit lights in the courtyard of the Oriental Pearl Tower, remembering how in her past life it was in this very courtyard that she had been drugged and awoke to find herself in the wolf's den of the Crown Prince's villa.
The study window was ajar, and Dongfang Wan'er approached breathlessly. By the flickering candlelight on the desk, she immediately spotted a half-open letter peeking out from a sandalwood box; the vermilion ink was strikingly bright in the dim light. Her fingertips trembled slightly—the familiar handwriting belonged to Crown Prince Ye Jingchu. Carefully opening the box, she found the yellowed paper densely covered with intrigue: how to frame her maternal grandparents for treason, how to plot to make her the Crown Princess…
"Squeak—" The wooden door was suddenly flung open. Dongfang Wan'er darted into the bookshelf like a cat, holding her breath. Dongfang Mingzhu staggered in, her pearl hairpin askew, her once beautiful face now twisted into a ferocious grimace: "Dongfang Wan'er, how dare you ruin my plans!" She grabbed a teacup from the table and smashed it to the ground. In the instant the shards flew, Dongfang Wan'er caught a glimpse of the jade pendant on her wrist, the one her mother had left her.
A surge of anger welled up inside her, and Dongfang Wan'er bit her lower lip hard, tasting the metallic flavor of blood. Only after Dongfang Mingzhu slammed the door and left did she slowly emerge from the shadows. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating the letter. She carefully tucked it into her inner pocket. Turning around, her gaze fell upon the painting "Ladies Wearing Flowers in Their Hair" hanging on the wall. The woman in the painting smiled gently, overlapping with a memory of herself from a certain morning—a time when she was unaware that the human heart could be more ruthless than the most venomous snake.
As the night watchman's drum sounded, Dongfang Wan'er leaped over the wall like an owl. The letter in her arms pressed painfully against her chest, yet a triumphant smile curved her lips. This was merely the first pawn; she would make Dongfang Mingzhu watch as her meticulously woven dream crumbled before her very eyes. The distant palace walls loomed in the night, and she clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms. Night was just beginning to fall. Dongfang Mingzhu, this score, we'll settle it slowly.
The night was thick and inky. The moment Dongfang Wan'er's toes touched the flagstones, a chill ran down her neck. A whooshing sound, carrying a sinister killing intent, swept in. Her pupils contracted, and she instinctively spun and rolled to the side. A flash of cold light grazed her ear, severing a few strands of her hair. The sharp dagger sparked as it scraped against the flagstones, the ear-piercing scraping sound startling the owls perched under the eaves.
"Who!" She drew her soft sword from her waist with a backhand motion, the scabbard and blade clashing together with a clear, resonant sound. The moonlight was partially obscured by clouds, only vaguely revealing a dark figure clad in a black, close-fitting outfit, with only a pair of sharp, hawk-like eyes visible beneath the mask. The figure did not answer, the dagger flipping as it thrust again, the moves ruthless and cunning, yet always managing to veer off guard by half an inch just before striking a vital point.
The clanging of swords against each other was particularly jarring in the silent courtyard. Dongfang Wan'er grew increasingly alarmed as the fight progressed; her opponent's movements and footwork were identical to those of the Crown Prince's secret guards. In the midst of the struggle, she seized a moment when her opponent swung his blade, her soft sword coiling around his wrist like a serpent, and with a sudden yank, she used the momentum to pull him away. As the dark figure staggered, moonlight pierced through the clouds, illuminating the crescent-shaped birthmark behind his ear—it was none other than "Night Shadow," the Crown Prince's most trusted secret guard!
"Hand over the letter, and I'll spare your life!" Night Shadow's voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper grinding against raw iron. He twisted his wrist, the dagger pressed against Dongfang Wan'er's throat, but he never dared to actually exert force. Dongfang Wan'er suddenly laughed, her warm breath brushing against the back of his hand: "Your Highness, you can't sit still so quickly?" Before she finished speaking, she bit down hard on his tiger's mouth, and in the instant Night Shadow released his grip in pain, her soft sword aimed straight for his face.
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps and the glow of torches drifted from afar. Night Shadow's gaze instinctively swept towards the source of the sound, and Dongfang Wan'er seized the opportunity to lunge forward, her knee slamming into Night Shadow's abdomen. Night Shadow grunted, her dagger flying from her hand. She snatched the dagger and threw it towards the pursuers, then turned and ran in the chaos, her skirt sweeping across the shattered porcelain on the ground with a crisp sound.