CHAPTER ONE — THE DEATH OF MOTHER AND CHILD
The cold was merciless.
Winter pressed against the palace walls like a living thing, seeping through stone and silk alike. Outside, the empire whispered praises: the new emperor, only half a year on the throne, had not attended court today. How touching, they said. How devoted he must be, staying by the empress's side as she laboured.
If only they knew.
Inside Phoenix Nest Palace, the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and betrayal.
"Elder sister," Su Lingshan drawled, standing smugly before the eight‑step bed, "why must you make things so difficult? You're already as good as dead. Why cling on and trouble His Majesty?"
Her voice was honeyed poison. She looked down at Su Zijin—sweat‑soaked, trembling, teeth clenched against agony—with a satisfaction so bright it bordered on glee.
The word sister made Su Zijin's stomach twist harder than any contraction. Sister. She had treated Su Lingshan as one—protected her, sheltered her, even shared the man she loved most. And all the while, Lingshan had been sharpening knives behind her back.
The poison had been slipped into her food the moment her pregnancy was confirmed. A slow, paralysing toxin that left her body limp and her voice trapped in her throat. She lay there now like a sacrificial offering, helpless as a lamb on the butcher's block.
She hated them.
She hated Su Lingshan's deceit, her years of false smiles. She hated Xiao Luochen—her husband, her emperor—who sat behind the curtain cultivating a reputation for devotion while orchestrating her death.
But most of all, she hated herself. For loving him. For trusting her. For being blind.
For helping him ascend the throne.
Chun Lan, once her most trusted maid, stood at the foot of the bed, eyes cold. "Imperial Concubine is right. Your Majesty the Empress, dragging this out helps no one. Surely you don't want the child in your belly to turn into a pool of blood?"
Su Zijin forced her legs shut with the last scraps of strength she possessed. Her glare was so fierce that Chun Lan flinched, stumbling back as though struck.
A bitter laugh echoed in Su Zijin's mind. This is the girl I trusted? The one I defended? The one I raised up?
If not for Chun Lan's betrayal, none of this would have happened. Her mother would still be alive. Her uncle's family would not have been destroyed. Her brother's corpse would not have been left unburied. And she—she would not be lying here, waiting to die.
Hatred swelled inside her, thick and suffocating.
Child… my child… forgive me.
Even if you become nothing but blood in my womb, I cannot let Xiao Luochen have you. I will not let him win.
She gathered her inner strength, ready to force the poison deeper, ready to end it—
"Why is it taking so long?!"
Xiao Luochen's voice cut through the room like a blade. Before the echo faded, Su Lingshan hurried to lift the curtain, simpering.
"Your Majesty, elder sister, she—"
But Xiao Luochen wasn't listening. His gaze locked onto Su Zijin's eyes—eyes burning with hatred—and something in his expression shifted. He shoved Su Lingshan aside and strode to the bed.
With a swift jab of his fingers, he sealed Su Zijin's acupuncture points. Her inner force froze instantly.
"Impressive," he hissed. "Even with West Bank Flower poison mixed with Soft Tendon Powder, you still tried to use your strength."
His eyes—cold, narrow, merciless—cut into her like knives.
Su Zijin stared back, hatred boiling so fiercely she thought her heart might burst. Five years of marriage. Five years of loyalty. She had advised him, fought for him, secured allies for him, helped him seize the throne. She had sacrificed everything.
And this was how he repaid her.
Xiao Luochen, she screamed silently, you heartless beast!
He saw the hatred in her eyes, but it stirred nothing in him. Why would it? To him, she had always been a chess piece—useful, obedient, disposable. Now that her purpose was fulfilled, she was simply being cleared from the board.
"Very well," he said coldly. "Since the empress is so determined to kill my child, I shall be equally ruthless."
He turned to the servants.
"Fetch Imperial Physician Liu. Prepare for an abdominal incision."
The words struck Su Zijin like a hammer. A caesarean. Without medicine. Without mercy.
Her last hope shattered.
No. No. You cannot give him my child. My child—no!
But her body would not move. Her voice would not rise. Only her eyes screamed, wide with terror, tears spilling helplessly down her temples.
Imperial Physician Liu arrived swiftly, bowing with mechanical obedience. He opened his case, withdrew a gleaming blade, and approached her swollen belly.
The candlelight caught the metal, and Su Zijin's breath seized. She wasn't afraid of dying. She was afraid of what would happen to her child.
The blade touched her skin.
A ripping sound tore through the room.
Blood arced into the air—hot, bright, violent.
Pain exploded through her body, so intense she nearly blacked out. A strangled groan escaped her, the only sound she could make.
Imperial Physician Liu worked quickly. Moments later, a newborn's cry pierced the suffocating silence.
"Your Majesty, a prince."
He held the child up.
Xiao Luochen didn't even look. "Take it away. If it's deformed, don't waste time."
The baby—tiny, red, slick with blood—was carried out like an unwanted animal. Su Zijin, barely conscious, could only watch the shadow of her child disappear behind the curtain.
Her heart cracked open.
Helplessness turned to something darker. Something monstrous.
Xiao Luochen. Su Lingshan.
You dared to do this to me.
To my child.
I, Su Zijin, will return even if I must crawl out of hell itself.
And I will make you both die screaming.