Chapter 3 What Are You
The instigator Mingshu was nonchalantly rubbing her wrist, tilting her chin up arrogantly, "Who do you think you are? I am the Noble Consort, personally bestowed by the Emperor with his own brush. And what are you supposed to be, raising your voice at me like that?"
The surrounding crowd: ...
The Empress Dowager's own niece, the Grand Secretary's darling daughter, how did she become someone no better than a foot-washing maid in her mouth?
Consort Shu, presumably slapped for the first time in her life, covered her face and stared with wide eyes, taking a while to recover. Seeing that shameless woman counterattack so brazenly, she finally snapped back to reality. Her pretty face went from red to white to green in the blink of an eye. With eyes about to burst and teeth clenched, she trembled, pointing at Mingshu, "You, dare, to, hit, me?"
Mingshu glanced at her disdainfully, as if looking at someone feebleminded, "Is hitting you some kind of significant ceremony that requires picking an auspicious date?"
Extremely arrogant and shameless.
Consort Shu felt a surge of blood in her throat and nearly fainted.
She swayed, bumped away the palace maid who was supporting her, bit her lip hard, and looked at Mingshu like she wanted to tear a piece of flesh from her, squeezing out the words through her teeth, "Ji Mingshu! You dared to hit me?"
Mingshu thought the woman must have been driven mad by her, her gaze showing a trace of pity, mirroring the way Consort Shu had looked at her just before.
She kept her arms crossed, shifted her gaze, took two steps forward, and in front of the terrified palace maid, seized the food box and raised it high above Consort Shu's head only to smash it to the ground with a "crash."
After dusting off her hands and looking at the mess on the floor, Mingshu finally felt relieved. She turned to Consort Shu, whose eyes were bloodshot, her eyebrows and eyes curved into a smile, "That's right, I did hit you, and I smashed the soup you were sending to the Emperor. What are you going to do about it, hit me back?"
The undisguised provocation in her eyes was finally the last straw that ignited the fuse. Consort Shu lost her composure completely and let out a shrill scream, charging over like a madwoman…
The onlookers were dumbfounded; nobody dared to intervene. Those who tried to break up the fight got hurt themselves, and the scene instantly descended into chaos.
...
This was the scene Zhang Dequan walked into—
The Noble Consort, in a dominant posture, was sitting astride Consort Shu, throwing punches down without blinking, aiming specifically for the face.
Consort Shu, who used to throw her weight around, was disheveled and pinned to the ground, letting out heart-wrenching screams while cursing like a fishwife.
This was not just the Noble Consort having the upper hand; this was a one-sided beatdown!
Zhang Dequan's mouth twitched as he touched his face, not daring to approach too closely, "Hey, please, masters, stop!"
...
Nobody paid him any attention.
Zhang Dequan: "The Emperor invites both of your excellencies inside!"
Both of them simultaneously stopped and turned to look over.
Zhang Dequan: ...
*
The atmosphere in the hall was eerily dead silence.
Below, Mingshu and Consort Shu knelt neatly in contrast to their earlier brazenness—now as quiet as chickens.
At the head.
The young sovereign sat lazily with stunning features and radiant eyes. A faint mole was under his left eye, his skin deathly pale, revealing pale blue veins beneath on close inspection.
The narrow phoenix eyes, like thin blades, and irises deep black. The gaze carried a chilling sharpness; when it swept over, it brought a heavy shade.
His glance moved from Consort Shu's swollen face to Mingshu, who had not a crease out of place on her gown. His tone was mockingly amused, "My beloved concubines, won't you explain yourselves to me?"
Everyone shuddered in unison.
The last time the Emperor called someone "beloved concubine," the next second, that concubine's head and body were separated.
The love was profoundly deep.