Chapter 012 Assassination

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The sky after the rain was particularly blue.

Sang Yan got up, had breakfast, and as usual, went to the main hall to visit Sang Ruoshui.

Overnight, her spirits had tremendously improved.

She dressed herself in a pink palace skirt, applied the finest rouge, and added the most beautiful pearl hairpin, resembling the grass after the rain—bursting with life and tender and juicy.

A beauty dressed to the nines, with skin like snow and a face like a flower, outshining all others.

"Are you going out?"

Sang Yan thought she had cheered up and guessed, "Are you going to thank the Emperor for his kindness?"

Sang Ruoshui shook her head with a smile, "No. I'm going to pay respects to the Empress Dowager. Sister, would you like to join me?"

"No, I… I'll stay behind."

It was better for the original character with her awkward status to stay away from the powerful.

After Sang Yan waved her hand to decline, she returned to her side hall.

In reality, both times the original character entered the palace, it was with the Empress Dowager's permission.

Only the Empress Dowager was devoted to Buddhism and had exempted the concubines from greeting her, disliking disturbances, so she simply feigned death.

However, why was Sang Ruoshui suddenly going to pay respects to the Empress Dowager?

Could it be that before taking action, she wanted to find herself a protector?

That was somewhat clever.

Sang Yan sat back on the couch, listlessly flipping through the unfinished storybook.

It seemed that the tales in the storybook, with their repetitive scholar and delicate lady characters and highly similar plot lines, fit the modern phrase—timeless tropes capture the heart.

"Miss, Sun Shanggong from the Clothing Bureau is here."

Qiuzhi whispered softly.

Sang Yan put down the storybook and looked over.

It turned out that Sun Shanggong had brought some clothes with her.

Sang Yan, being a woman, naturally liked beautiful dresses, but thinking that they were gifts from the dog Emperor made her less enthusiastic.

"Miss Sang, the Clothing Bureau has worked through the night to prepare five sets of clothes. By the Emperor's order, we are here to have Miss Sang review them."

Sun Shanggong respectfully bowed and stated her purpose.

Sang Yan, knowing she was simply following orders and had no intention of making things difficult, cooperated and tried on each outfit.

Trying them on took half an hour because ancient clothing was so intricate. Putting them on and taking them off was quite the ordeal.

She was left panting slightly from the effort.

"It was hard work for Sun Shanggong and the Clothing Bureau."

"Miss, you jest. It is our honor," Sun Shanggong replied.

Sun Shanggong was a female officer of the fifth rank and was being exceedingly polite to Sang Yan, who no longer held the title of Heir's wife.

Sang Yan, feeling unexpectedly flattered, didn't quite know what to say for a moment.

She was still unaware that the Emperor kept his distance from women, that the Empress failed to capture the Emperor's Heart, and that they were virtually non-existent—everyone in the harem was seeking a true mistress.

The Clothing Bureau was merely betting on her.

"We've also drafted several design sketches for clothes. Would Miss Sang care to take a look?"

"No, thank you. I trust your judgment."

Sang Yan was too tired and collapsed onto the couch, barely able to maintain her composure.

Seeing her like this, Sun Shanggong said no more and promptly led her people in taking their leave.

As soon as Sang Yan saw them turn away, she collapsed onto the couch, losing all semblance of poise.

It wasn't easy being a noble in the palace.

She lay there with her eyes closed for a while before Qiuzhi said, "Miss, the Emperor has summoned you to play chess."

Liar!

Chess was definitely a pretext!

Sang Yan knew this all too well but couldn't defy the Emperor's decree and could only reluctantly get up and head out.

Seeing her still in mourning attire, Qiuzhi hurriedly stopped her, "Miss, your clothes have been delivered, perhaps you shouldn't wear mourning attire. The Emperor has already expressed his dislike for it."

"His dislikes are his problem."

Sang Yan frowned, thinking: The Clothing Bureau had just finished making the clothes, and the dog Emperor summons her—wearing the clothes he ordered would look like she was trying to entice him.

God knows she had no interest in him whatsoever.

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Sang Yan thought so and went her own way.

Then she soon regretted it.

Qingxin Hall

The place where the Emperor used for leisure and relaxation.

When Sang Yan arrived, a beautiful singer was playing the pipa and singing, while scantily-clad dancers twirled their skirts, blooming like vast patches of colorful flowers on the ground.

Such a scene of peace and prosperity through music and dance.

This Emperor, who was said to abstain from sexual pleasures, in fact, couldn't live without women, could he?

While Sang Yan was criticizing inwardly, she saw a Red-Clothed Dancer's water sleeve, like a flexible snake, attempting to coil around the Emperor's neck.

But the Emperor reacted quickly, grabbed the sleeve in time, secretly exerted force, and shattered the water sleeve.

The Red-Clothed Dancer did not give up, drawing a Soft Sword from her waist and stabbing forward.

"Come, protect His Majesty! Someone wants to kill the dog—"

Sang Yan almost blurted out what was in her heart, swiftly covered her mouth, and hurriedly hid behind a large stone pillar.

"Tyrant! Give back my sister's life—"

The Red-Clothed Dancer, clearly cannon fodder, hadn't finished speaking when the Emperor seized the tip of her sword and flicked it, hitting her back in an instant, cutting a bloody slash across her pretty face.

At that moment, the guards rushed in, and within a few moves, they captured her.

"Tyrant! Emperor! You will not die a good death!"

The Red-Clothed Dancer was pressed to kneel on the ground by the guards, struggling violently and cursing nonstop.

Sang Yan hid behind the pillar, watching all this and sighing: The Emperor turned out to be a martial artist. This was nothing but child's play—this assassination attempt.

"Come out."

He Ying looked toward the person peeking out from behind the pillar—so it turned out that being shy was just a facade, she was more like a lively rabbit.

Incredibly cute.

He wanted to laugh but held back, deliberately keeping a stern face and said, "You shout to protect me but hide far away, Sang Yan, do you realize your hypocrisy?"

"I know my sins."

Sang Yan knew that an assassination attempt on the Emperor was a serious matter, and everyone should rush to shield him; she had hidden far away, and she was lucky to be a woman, otherwise, if the Emperor took it seriously, she most definitely would incur his displeasure.

Wait, the Emperor had been on the throne for over a decade and had been called a tyrant for just as long, so why did he face an assassination as soon as she arrived?

Thinking of the original owner's husband-killing fate, Sang Yan felt the assassination was even more suspicious, letting her conspiracy theories run wild: Could someone be plotting against her?

Thinking this, she kneeled to admit her wrongdoing: "Emperor, I truly acknowledge my crime. Knowing I have a treacherous fate, yet I still approached You, I truly deserve death. Thankfully, it did not lead to a great disaster. Please, Your Majesty, immediately expel me—"

"Shut up!"

The more He Ying listened, the more he sensed something was off—did this woman want to use this as a chance to leave the Imperial Palace?

But she did speak one truth—this assassination must have a mastermind behind it!

With this thought, he stood up, walked over, and looking down at the Red-Clothed Dancer, demanded, "Speak, who instructed you, and I will spare your lowly life!"

"Ha ha ha—"

The Red-Clothed Dancer burst into insane laughter, tears streaming down her face: "No one instructed me! Your cruelty and bloodthirst are known to all, and everyone wants you dead! Emperor, you killed my sister, even as a ghost—"

"Careful! She's going to kill herself!"

Sang Yan saw the resolve for death in the eyes of the weeping Red-Clothed Dancer, but it was too late to stop her.

Blood suddenly spurted.

The Red-Clothed Dancer snatched the guard's sword and slashed her own throat.

"...none shall forgive you..."

Her body fell to the ground.

Eyes wide open.

Dying with her eyes unshut.

The blood flowed in meandering streams on the ground.

A glaring red.

Sang Yan, who was born in a civilized and wonderful modern society, witnessed such a scene for the first time, was so frightened she forgot how to breathe.

A person had died!

A young girl!

Right in front of her!

This horrible feudal society!

Sang Yan's face turned ashen, and as her vision darkened, she felt weak and collapsed.