After Transmigrating Into a Cannon Fodder, I Got a Happy Ending with the Female Lead [Transmigration Into a Novel] - Chapter 12

Yue Xi followed closely behind Qing He, not daring to fall even half a step behind, afraid that if she slipped, she would be swallowed up by the black mist.

It had all happened so suddenly. Right after she nervously asked that question, Qing He had looked at her with a complicated expression and said:

“Do you humans fall in love with others that easily?”

Before Yue Xi could explain, the ground of the Princess’ Residence began to shake. In the blink of an eye, thick smoke rolled out, the servants vanished, and the magnificent estate began decaying at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The peonies in the courtyard withered instantly. Dead branches and leaves blew into every corner, and wild weeds grew taller than a person.

Not only that, Yue Xi realized—the Princess’ Residence itself seemed like it was about to collapse.

The black mist surged in from all directions, blinding her eyes in an instant. She couldn’t see anything.

From inside the house came the sound of something howling. Yue Xi’s head pounded, her mind tangled and muddled, on the verge of being swallowed whole.

Just as she was about to be consumed, someone took her hand.

Qing He, with one hand, formed a seal, blasting away the evil spirits that surged toward them, pulling Yue Xi swiftly out of there.

The moment their feet stepped beyond the gates of the Princess’ Residence, the entire estate collapsed behind them with a thunderous crash, immediately seized and devoured by wild ghosts and twisted spirits.

“How could this happen?”

Chen Wu had only just left. Could she have met with disaster on the way back?

Qing He released her hand and said flatly, “Go and see for yourself, won’t you?”

Yue Xi looked at her cold, aloof back and pressed her lips together in embarrassment.

The best moment to explain had passed. Should she try to explain now—or stay silent?

She wanted to say she wasn’t someone who fell in love lightly, that once she did, she was serious. But if she said that aloud, the little ghost girl in front of her would never believe it.

After all, they had only just met—confessing affection now sounded fake.

Yue Xi wondered if she had simply been lusting after beauty, but deep down she knew her feelings weren’t just shallow attraction.

It felt instead like something long-familiar, like a reunion after a long separation, with love surging up all at once.

“You still not keeping up? Do you want to be eaten by those ghosts?”

Qing He’s cold voice jolted her awake. Looking back, Yue Xi saw the black mist already chasing them, so she quickly jogged forward, not daring to stray a single step from Qing He.

…

The Marquis’ Residence remained the same as always—quiet and lifeless as stagnant water. But Chen Wu had dressed herself in her finest gown, painted her face with the most exquisite makeup, and reddened her lips until she once again looked like the lively young girl she once was.

A servant reported back: the Marquis refused to return, insisting she come in person to fetch him.

Chen Wu was silent for a while, then set out for the villa with her personal maid.

The maid, uneasy, finally spoke as they neared the villa.

“Your Highness, you are a princess. Must you allow them to climb above you?”

Chen Wu didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “Xiao Huan, how is Father’s health?”

“The Emperor coughed blood again two days ago. The imperial physician said his condition is worsening. The Crown Prince and the other princes and princesses are already keeping vigil at Tai’an Hall. Your Highness, shouldn’t you also—”

Even the maid thought it unbecoming that the Emperor’s most beloved daughter had not gone.

A trace of sorrow flickered in Chen Wu’s eyes. Her voice was thick: “I will go, but not now.”

Her father might already be disappointed in her, but she intended to remove one of his lingering regrets.

When they reached the villa, despite being its owner, Chen Wu was barred by guards.

Only Wang Fu came out. Pretending to be surprised, she said: “Sister, why are you here?”

Chen Wu gave her a glance and moved to enter.

“Where is Cui Ping? Tell her to come out and see me.”

Wang Fu hurried forward to block her. “Sister, don’t raise your voice. The Marquis was tired out last night and is still resting.”

She seemed to be showing off deliberately. After speaking, she lowered her head shyly, her cheeks glowing red, the very picture of a coquettish beauty.

Chen Wu sneered. “Fine. I’ll wait.”

She strode toward the main hall. Wang Fu, afraid of being embarrassed, dared not follow. Chen Wu turned back, asking:

“You want the Marquis to give you a proper title?”

Wang Fu didn’t know what she meant. Humbly, she replied: “Title or not, it doesn’t matter. I only want to stay by the Marquis’ side. It is the Marquis who worries I might be wronged, so—”

Chen Wu cut her off, unwilling to watch her act.

“I can let you through the gates of the Marquis’ Residence.”

Wang Fu froze, caught off guard.

“I’ve brought the concubine-acceptance deed. Go wake the Marquis and have her sign it.”

Normally, the document required the person herself to go, but Chen Wu was a princess. The Ministry of Revenue would never dare refuse her.

Overwhelmed with joy, Wang Fu forgot everything she had said before and rushed to rouse Cui Ping.

Cui Ping indulged her still. Though her sleep was disturbed, she didn’t get angry, only pinched her nose playfully. The two emerged, clinging to each other as if Chen Wu weren’t even there.

“Marquis, this is the deed you wanted. Sign and stamp it, and it takes effect. Return home now, at least give your beloved concubine proper dignity, no?”

If they didn’t return openly, others would think Wang Fu nothing more than a shameful affair.

Cui Ping thought of Chen Wu’s earlier hysterics and was curious about her sudden change of heart.

“What made you change your mind?”

Chen Wu rose, her face mocking. “Love, perhaps. Sister Ping, even now, I still love you.”

“Sister Ping, let’s have dinner together tonight. There’s something I want to say to you.”

With that, she swept away, the layers of her trailing skirts blooming like flowers behind her.

Watching her back, Cui Ping felt a strange tug in her heart. Something about Chen Wu seemed… different.

Her arm was shaken. She turned. Wang Fu was clutching her sleeve, eyes shimmering with hope.

“Marquis, the deed…”

Cui Ping squeezed her bottom, tossing Chen Wu from her mind.

“Sign! I’ll sign right now!”

She wrote her name and seal on the document. Wang Fu, clutching it, could barely contain her joy.

With the Marquis’ favor, she thought, the entire Residence would be hers to command. What did being a princess matter? Even she would have to bow to Wang Fu’s whims.

While Wang Fu daydreamed about her bright future, Chen Wu returned to the Residence and had a fine banquet prepared.

At dusk, Cui Ping swaggered in with Wang Fu, making a show of it, as if she wanted the entire capital to know.

Chen Wu only smiled faintly, as if Cui Ping’s actions no longer concerned her.

“Sister Ping, let’s talk privately.”

When Wang Fu tried to follow, Chen Wu stopped her. Wang Fu sulked, clutching Cui Ping’s sleeve.

But Cui Ping understood. Allowing Wang Fu into the Residence had already been Chen Wu’s greatest concession. Pushing further would only backfire. She coaxed Wang Fu a little, then followed Chen Wu to her chambers.

Inside, incense burned. Fine smoke curled in the air, fresh and pleasant.

Chen Wu sat down, poured two cups of wine, and asked:

“Sister Ping, do you remember what today is?”

Cui Ping did not. She had long forgotten.

Chen Wu’s gaze grew distant. She touched the plain hairpin in her hair.

“Today is our betrothal day. Two years ago today, you gave me this pin, saying it had been your mother’s and was of great importance to you.”

Cui Ping had told countless lies. Hearing this, she could only nod along.

“Sister Ping, do you truly love Wang Fu?”

Cui Ping said nothing, only downed her wine in one gulp.

Chen Wu chuckled, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“You must love her, then. She has nothing for you to exploit. Yet you quarreled with me for her sake. If that’s not love, what is?”

Having her thoughts exposed, Cui Ping grew furious. She slammed her winecup down.

“What exactly are you trying to say?!”

Chen Wu looked at her and smiled radiantly. “Sister Ping, the wine you just drank was poisoned.”

Cui Ping’s face changed instantly. She leapt up, only to vomit a mouthful of blood, staining all the exquisite dishes.

Chen Wu sighed as she looked at the ruined food.

What a pity. It couldn’t be eaten now.

Cui Ping soon clutched her stomach and fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Crawling to Chen Wu, she grasped at her skirt, begging desperately.

“Xiao Wu, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. Give me the antidote, I’ll dismiss Wang Fu immediately, I’ll love only you!”

Chen Wu lowered her gaze, her eyes cold as ice.

“Isn’t it too late to say that now?”

Cui Ping coughed blood, gasping: “Not too late! Never too late! Xiao Wu, give me one more chance—I swear I’ll treat you well!”

Chen Wu rose, pressing her foot down on Cui Ping’s hand, hatred blazing in her eyes.

“You think I’ll fall for your tricks again? After all the pain you caused me, what makes you think I’d ever believe you?”

The Marquis’ Residence was being swallowed by black mist. Half of it was already gone. Yue Xi and Qing He stood at the window, watching Cui Ping’s pitiful state.

Qing He remained expressionless, but Yue Xi felt a surge of satisfaction. A woman like Cui Ping—death was too kind for her.

Cui Ping feared death more than anything. On the battlefield, she had betrayed her own father just to survive. Now, faced with death again, she quaked with terror, begging without dignity.

“I was wrong, Xiao Wu! I’m not human, I deserve death, but please—give me a chance to atone! I beg you!”

Chen Wu bent over her, then suddenly laughed, the sound hysterical, verging on madness.

She pulled a porcelain vial from her sleeve, pulled the stopper, and let the powder scatter to the floor.

“The antidote is gone.”

Cui Ping spat another mouthful of blood, her breath weakening.

The cold wind swept in, and with it the black mist mixed with snow. In an instant, Yue Xi saw nothing more.

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