Empress, Can I? [Transmigration + GL] - Chapter 67

In an inn within the city, the door to a room was slammed open with a thud. Yan Xing swiftly set down the person he had been carrying on his back, while Yao Xianhui helped lay them on the bed.

“Miss Yao, I’ll leave Minister Meng in your care.”

Yao Xianhui nodded, her voice trembling slightly. “Alright.”

Yan Xing said, “Please don’t worry, Miss Yao. Minister Meng’s injuries aren’t fatal. I’ll send someone to fetch a physician right away.”

It turned out that after fleeing for their lives through the night, they had barely traveled three miles when Meng Wan suddenly swayed and collapsed. Fortunately, the guards beside her reacted swiftly and caught her. Only then did they realize she had already suffered multiple knife wounds—some large, some small—with the deepest and longest gash beneath her right abdomen.

The group dared not delay any further. Spotting the city walls not far off under the moonlight, they hurried straight toward the town.

Yao Xianhui blamed herself, “It’s all my fault. If the teacher hadn’t protected me, she wouldn’t have been so badly injured.”

Yan Xing said, “The situation was critical during the chaos of battle. It was our failure as guards to protect properly.”

After speaking, Yan Xing excused himself to arrange for one of his subordinates to fetch a physician while he and another stood guard at the inn. He worried about Meng Wan’s injuries while mourning the comrades who hadn’t made it out of the village alive.

They would wait until daybreak when Minister Meng awoke, then formally visit the Wangnan County office in their capacity as imperial envoys.

Yao Xianhui went to the inn’s kitchen to boil water, then returned to clean the blood from Meng Wan’s wounds and wipe the stains from her face.

Soon, the guards brought the physician, who examined the injuries. Fortunately, no bones or tendons were damaged—just excessive blood loss. The physician left a bottle of golden wound medicine and prescribed a remedy.

Hearing they’d encountered bandits, the old physician remarked in surprise, “Hejia Village has always been peaceful. I’ve never heard of bandits there before.”

After treating Meng Wan, he tended to the injuries of Yan Xing and the other two, then packed his medical kit and left with trembling steps, sighing, “Ah, natural disasters and human calamities—these are truly life-destroying times!”

Meng Wan remained unconscious. Yao Xianhui kept watch in the room, not daring to leave.

After so many twists and turns, dawn approached. The room was quiet, save for the crackling of the candle flame.

Yao Xianhui sat at the table, propping her chin with one hand, lost in thought as she recalled the life-and-death horrors of the night. So absorbed was she that she didn’t notice the white hem of a robe appearing behind her.

Just as she turned to check on her teacher, a sudden numbness struck her pressure points. Darkness flooded her vision as her head drooped forward, and she collapsed onto the table, unconscious.

The woman in white glanced down at Yao Xianhui before turning toward the bed.

The woman lying there had her eyes tightly shut. Blood loss had left her face pale, her once-rosy lips now dull.

The white-clad woman sat by the bed, her gaze slowly tracing Meng Wan’s features. Her usually icy, pool-like eyes softened with tenderness.

She reached out a hand, paused midair, hesitated briefly, then finally let trembling fingers brush Meng Wan’s cheek.

Her fingertips traced the smooth, delicate skin before coming to rest, her palm warming Meng Wan’s cool face.

“Wan-jie, Wan-jie…” she murmured softly, calling to the woman on the bed with deep affection.

Time passed bit by bit, the darkness of dawn faded, and soon the sky would brighten.

The figure on the bed suddenly shifted slightly, but the movement tugged at her wounds, causing her delicate brows to furrow involuntarily. A faint hiss escaped her pale lips.

“Wan-jie, are you in pain?”

The person sitting by the bed immediately took one of her hands, clasping it tightly in her own. This touch seemed to carry a soothing magic—Meng Wan’s brows gradually relaxed, and her expression settled into calm.

For a moment, the three in the room remained silent—one slumped over the table in deep slumber, one lying peacefully in bed, and one sitting by the bedside, gazing tenderly at Meng Wan.

As the sky slowly brightened, the woman in white let out a wistful sigh and gently released Meng Wan’s hand, carefully placing it back on the bed.

“Xiao Leng…” The figure on the bed suddenly murmured.

The woman in white stiffened instantly, lifting her head to look at the bed.

Meng Wan’s eyes remained closed, her lips parting slightly to utter those two words before falling still again.

She must have been dreaming, unconsciously calling out that name.

A faint smile touched the white-clad girl’s lips as she silently watched the sleeping figure. After a while, she slowly rose to her feet.

Dawn had arrived—it was time for her to leave.

Just as she turned away, a hand suddenly grasped hers.

The girl in white trembled, turning back slowly.

The person on the bed had opened her eyes—those eyes brimming with boundless tenderness and joy. “Xiao Leng, it really is you!”

This girl in white was none other than Leng Qiuci.

Leng Qiuci abruptly withdrew her hand, turning her face away as she replied coolly, “Wan-jie, you’re awake.”

Meng Wan felt a pang of loss when her hand was pulled free. She awkwardly retracted her own and said softly, “It’s been nearly a year since we last met. Have… have you been well?”

Such a simple question—”Have you been well?”—yet it made Leng Qiuci’s eyes redden. She kept her head lowered for a long moment before nodding. “I’ve been fine.”

This time, her voice wasn’t quite as cold—there was a trace of warmth in it.

She glanced out the window and said, “I should go.”

“Where are you going?” Meng Wan, seeing her about to leave again, struggled to sit up in her urgency.

The movement tore open her barely healed wounds, fresh blood seeping through the white bandages.

Leng Qiuci rushed to her side at once, pressing her back onto the bed with a pained scolding. “Your injuries haven’t healed yet—don’t move recklessly!”

Meng Wan had no choice but to lie back, her gaze fixed on the other. “Xiao Leng, where are you going alone?”

She had wanted to say, Stay with me, but then remembered that her own journey ahead was fraught with danger—she couldn’t guarantee Leng Qiuci’s safety.

So the words that left her lips instead were, “Mother misses you dearly. You should go back and see her.”

“And what about you?” Leng Qiuci looked at her, the question slipping out almost involuntarily. “If my foster mother misses me… have you missed me?”

“Me?” Meng Wan was momentarily stunned, an inexplicable tremor passing through her heart. A guilty feeling surged within her, and she averted her eyes, answering calmly, “Of course I’ve missed you too.”

You’re my foster sister—it’s only natural for me to say I’ve missed you in that capacity.

Leng Qiuci’s lips curved slightly. She turned her gaze to the figure slumped over the table in deep sleep. “Who is she?”

“She is my student, named Yao Xianhui.”

“Xianhui—what a lovely name,” Leng Qiuci said with a smile. “And a rare beauty at that. Come to think of it, I was also half a student of Sister Wan’s.”

Though she was smiling, to Meng Wan, that smile felt cold, carrying a trace of resentment.

Though Leng Qiuci could be considered half her student, it was only in the loosest sense. Yao Xianhui was different—she had formally undergone the rites of apprenticeship.

“You two… are not the same.” The moment the words left Meng Wan’s lips, a faint blush rose to her cheeks, and she vaguely sensed the impropriety of her words. She feared it would only invite more questions.

Sure enough, Leng Qiuci stared at her, eyes bright and piercing, as if trying to see through her. With a smile, she asked, “How are we not the same?”

How were they not the same?

A sudden, indescribable feeling washed over Meng Wan. In the months after Leng Qiuci had left, she would often find herself thinking of the white hem of her robes—unbidden, in the most unexpected moments.

While playing the qin, reading by lamplight, even when speaking with her mother…

It was then that she gradually understood: the so-called romance and longing, the fleeting beauty of life, was perhaps nothing more than the sound of the qin beneath the pear blossoms, and the way a certain beauty turned back with a smile.

That smile had plucked at the strings of her heart.

She didn’t know when it had begun, but her feelings for this sworn sister were no longer pure.

Occasionally lifting her gaze from the pages of books, she recognized that what she felt was different from the affection between mother and daughter, nor was it the bond between sisters. She knew—she was yearning for something else.

Every time she saw Her Majesty and the Empress walking hand in hand, exchanging tender glances and smiles, the absence of that very emotion in her own life became all the more glaring.

And Leng Qiuci’s figure grew ever clearer in her mind.

They were not the same—Leng Qiuci and Yao Xianhui were certainly not the same.

With Yao Xianhui, she could be open and unburdened. But facing Leng Qiuci, she realized with helpless frustration that she could not be so carefree.

For all her scholarly refinement and aspirations to be a noble-hearted gentleman, she had unwittingly become a scheming villain with ulterior motives.

“How are we not the same?”

Seeing Meng Wan’s evasive gaze and prolonged silence, Leng Qiuci pressed the question again. Her heart pounded wildly—instinct told her that what Meng Wan was about to say was important, critically so. It might even relate to the most secret hope buried in her heart. She watched Meng Wan with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Meng Wan snapped out of her thoughts. Leng Qiuci’s face was so close now that she could catch the faint, cool fragrance unique to her—a scent that stirred the imagination.

Meng Wan turned her head away in a fluster, “Mm, mm…”

She furrowed her brows, thinking hard. Despite her vast knowledge and remarkable memory, she couldn’t come up with the right words. After a few hesitant sounds, she sighed and said, “Go back to the capital. It’s peaceful there, and Mother will take good care of you.”

“I’m not going back.” Leng Qiuci’s disappointment was indescribable, and her reply came without the slightest hesitation.

“Why?”

Meng Wan didn’t understand. For a young girl wandering alone, wasn’t this the best option?

With the care of her adoptive mother and the affection of an elder sister like herself—who was now deeply favored by the emperor—she would have ample protection.

“Xiao Leng, don’t be willful. Life outside isn’t as easy as you think.”

Leng Qiuci’s expression turned cold as she stood up. “Am I always just a willful child in your eyes?”

She pointed at Yao Xianhui. “I’m not like her! She’s sweet, considerate—she drapes clothes over you, makes fish soup for you, serves you attentively. No wonder you keep her by your side! Even in danger just now, you shielded her with your own body!”

Seething with anger, she mocked herself, “What am I, then? How could I compare to her? Don’t rush to send me away—I’ll leave on my own!”

Meng Wan was stunned.

So it was her—the girl in the veiled hat, sailing alone on the river.

“That’s not what I meant! I just worry about you facing danger alone out there. That’s why I want you to go home. Mother will care for you, and I’ll treat you like my own sister.”

The last sentence made Meng Wan’s conscience prick sharply, her face flushing unnaturally.

“No need!” Leng Qiuci’s expression grew even colder, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Seems like I’m not the one in danger! You’d better take care of yourself! Since you love playing the doting sister so much, why not adopt a few more? There are plenty of homeless children out there! I don’t need it!”

The more she spoke, the heavier the inexplicable disappointment and frustration weighed on her chest, as if it might explode.

Why did it have to be “sister”?

At this moment, overwhelmed by misery, she lashed out with words meant to wound Meng Wan the most.

“Oh, I forgot—you’re busy currying favor with that damned emperor. Now that she favors you so much, with endless riches and honors, you could afford to adopt hundreds of sisters and pamper them all, couldn’t you?”

Meng Wan’s face paled and reddened in turns under the verbal assault. She bit her lip hard, one hand gripping the quilt corner so tightly her knuckles turned white.

After a long silence, she lowered her head and said slowly, “I see.”

As she spoke, she seemed to shiver all over, her heart trembling with cold. She burrowed under the quilt, turned away, and closed her eyes.

Where Leng Qiuci couldn’t see, tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

Leng Qiuci watched her turn her back, her frail figure curling into a small ball beneath the thin blanket.

The inexplicable fury in Leng Qiuci’s heart was instantly doused.

She froze, only now realizing what she had just said.

She had mercilessly mocked Meng Wan for seeking power by aligning with her enemy—once again trampling over Meng Wan’s deepest wounds.

She knew she had hurt Meng Wan deeply. Again.

Beneath her sleeves, Leng Qiuci clenched her fists tightly.

Why?

She clearly didn’t want to hurt this person the most, so why was she acting like a madwoman, hurting her again and again!

Leng Qiuci parted her lips with difficulty and slowly raised a hand, reaching toward Meng Wan.

She wanted to pull this treasured person close, to hold her tightly in her arms and kiss her fiercely! To shout loudly, “I want to be your lover, not some damned little sister!”

The sudden flames in her heart guided Leng Qiuci’s hand as it inched closer to Meng Wan.

Then, she saw a single tear, refracting heartbreaking light.

Leng Qiuci’s heart trembled, and she abruptly came to her senses.

Realizing the shameful desires buried deep within her, Leng Qiuci suddenly felt too ashamed to show her face.

She couldn’t forgive herself for harboring such sinful thoughts toward the person she loved and cherished most, the one she revered like a deity.

“Minister Meng, Minister Meng, Miss Yao…” A knock came from outside the door. Yan Xing and the others, hearing the commotion inside, had come to check if everything was all right.

The abrupt knocking seemed like a lifeline, instantly pulling Leng Qiuci back to reality. She lowered her head, her voice weak and guilty. “I’m sorry, Wan-jie.”

This time, she didn’t say “please forgive me.”

She didn’t know if Wan-jie would forgive her.

Because in this world, no one could tolerate being hurt over and over again by another.

She said, “Some of those guards from last night didn’t die. I gave them medicine—they’ll live. I moved them to the mountains south of the village. You should go get them. As for that bandit leader… I don’t think they were real bandits. I tied him up too. Keeping him alive might be more useful to you.”

“And… I’m not going back. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t.”

With that, her figure swayed, and she slipped soundlessly out the window.

Hearing this, Meng Wan whirled around, about to demand what she meant by “can’t go back.” But when she turned back, the room was empty—Leng Qiuci had vanished without a trace.

“Minister Meng! Miss Yao, Miss Yao…”

Yan Xing’s urgent shouts outside the door, along with increasingly loud knocking, finally roused Yao Xianhui. She lifted her head, rubbing her dizzy temples, before realizing what was happening. She turned to see Meng Wan already sitting up on the bed, about to get up and open the door.

Yao Xianhui said, “Teacher, why are you up? Lie back down.”

She helped Meng Wan lie down, then turned and walked to the door. Opening it, she asked, “Guard Yan, is something the matter?”

Yan Xing saw her open the door and felt mostly relieved. Not wanting to intrude, he stood outside and said, “Nothing urgent. I just came to check if you and Minister Meng are doing well.”

Yao Xianhui smiled. “We’re fine. Both Minister Meng and I were just asleep. But your knocking woke us up.”

Hearing this, Yan Xing slowly retreated, muttering to himself as he walked away. Both asleep? But I could have sworn I heard faint voices earlier. Could someone have been talking in their sleep?

Yao Xianhui closed the door and murmured to herself, “How strange. I suddenly fell asleep and slept so deeply.”

Turning around, she saw Meng Wan lying on the bed with her eyes open. Yao Xianhui chuckled, “Teacher, won’t you sleep a bit more? It’s not fully light yet.”

Meng Wan frowned thoughtfully, then smiled at the question. “When it’s properly light, call Guard Yan over. I have something to say to him.”