Chapter 25: Long Live the Guizang Empress

The glazed tiles of the Taiji Palace shimmered with a molten gold luster in the morning light. Shen Qinghuan, draped in a twelve-emblem imperial robe, stood atop jade steps carpeted with blood-soaked peony petals—the remnants of last night's rebels, crushed into oblivion. Around her left wrist coiled the compass snake, its black scales shed, now transformed into a glistening white dragon tendon. The tendon's tip was embedded deep in the nape of Wu Meiniang, who knelt below on the crimson platform.

"This is the 'Shared Fate Pact,'" Shen Qinghuan said, lifting her foot. The shadow of her Bixi dragon-turtle tattoo fell across Wu's lips. "I live, you live. I die…"

"And ten thousand ants will gnaw your bones, your soul forever trapped in the Nine Springs," Wu Meiniang finished mechanically, her forehead pressed against a crack in the green bricks. That fissure ran through the entire Taiji Palace, carved into the earth by yesterday's backlash from the symbiosis curse. Her once-radiant hair now hung like dry straw, and her mesmerizing phoenix eyes were clouded with a gray haze—blinded by boiling oil on Shen Qinghuan's orders.

The Minister of Rites, trembling, presented a golden registry. As Shen Qinghuan's fingertips brushed the decree of enfeoffment, the seventy-two districts of Chang'an rang out with the sound of chimes in unison. This was no ceremonial music—it was the mind-control bell she had forged by refining ten thousand citizens into living puppets. Amid the tolling, the civil and military officials shouted "Long live the Empress!" like marionettes, silver scales—shed from the compass snake—glimmering faintly in the depths of their pupils.

"Teng," Shen Qinghuan snapped her fingers. Mingyue, her attendant, promptly tossed out a set of coarse hemp servant's clothes. "Take your new slave and teach her the rules of Weiyang Palace."

Wu Meiniang—now called Teng—crawled toward Mingyue on her belly. A copper bell jangled at her waist; with each chime, the dragon tendon burrowed an inch deeper into her spine. The palace maids snickered as she licked horse dung from Mingyue's shoe soles—left by a heavenly steed freshly tributed from the Western Regions.

"You think you've won?" Teng whispered, her voice so faint only Shen Qinghuan could hear. Black blood oozed from her rotting gums. "When the dragon tendon absorbs three hundred days of resentment…"

Shen Qinghuan stomped on her throat. "On the two hundred and ninety-ninth day, I'll turn you into an eternal lantern."

The coronation ceremony lasted until moonrise. As the last wisp of sacrificial smoke dissipated, Shen Qinghuan ascended the stargazing tower alone. The compass dragon tendon was devouring her left hand, turning it to jade and stone from the fingertips upward. She didn't care—she had known the cost since reversing the Yin Talisman Scripture.

"Your Majesty!" Mingyue's panicked cry echoed from below. As Shen Qinghuan turned, Teng lunged, a half-broken jade hairpin hidden under her tongue aimed at her throat—

A burst of golden light.

Shen Qinghuan jolted awake at her desk, her forehead smacking the monitor. The Excel spreadsheet blinked: 2023/10/17 15:47. Chen Guodong's roar thundered through the glass wall: "The feng shui proposal must be delivered to the client tonight!"

Her trembling hand reached for her ankle. The Bixi tattoo remained, though faded into an ordinary mark. The intern at the next desk leaned over. "Fell asleep again, Qinghuan-jie? You were mumbling about vines and dragons…"

In the bathroom mirror, she frantically pressed her neck. No dragon tendon—just pimples from sleepless nights. Then she ripped off a Band-Aid—and beneath it lay a fragment of shed snake skin, the final scale of the compass.

*Ding!* Her phone pinged with a news alert: "Luoyang Excavation Uncovers Twin Tombs of Tang Dynasty Empresses, Main Chamber Contains Modern Mechanical Device." In the photo, a rusted bronze box cradled a USB drive engraved with the character "Shen."

"Hi, Qinghuan-jie," the intern said, passing by again. Shen Qinghuan glanced at the newcomer and noticed a Bixi tattoo on her foot. Closer inspection revealed she wore earrings identical to Mingyue's.

As Shen Qinghuan pondered, Chen Guodong's footsteps drew near. She swiftly tucked the snake scale into her suit pocket, a cold smirk curling her lips—Wu Meiniang's smirk.

(The End)