The Flirtatious Beauty Decides to Steal the Princess - Chapter 41 (FINALE)

The capital was suddenly drenched in heavy rain, as if trying to wash away the scent of blood.

Yet Wen Ying had been asleep for two days. The wound at her waist kept bleeding, and the imperial physicians had exhausted every means to barely stop the flow.

Fu Qingyin knelt by the bedside for what felt like an eternity. Her knees went numb, and the cold seeped into her bones, yet she refused to rise, remaining on the icy floor.

“Why hasn’t she woken up yet?” After the physician finished his routine report and turned to prepare the medicine, Fu Qingyin abruptly called out to him, her voice icy.

The physician wiped the cold sweat from his brow. In recent days, he had witnessed how Fu Qingyin dealt with the remaining members of the Wen imperial family. Though not as cruel as Emperor Wen those who surrendered were given silver and allowed to retire to their hometowns those who stubbornly resisted and hurled insults were often left without intact corpses.

“Your Majesty, this humble servant has used the finest medicine to sustain Miss Wen Ying’s,” Before he could finish, Fu Qingyin’s chilling gaze cut him off.

“How many times must I say it? She is the Empress.” Fu Qingyin’s voice was more terrifying than ever, carrying a weight that made one want to kneel. Not daring to argue, the physician quickly corrected himself, “Y-Yes! Her Majesty the Empress is simply too weak. Yesterday, I consulted with Madam Gu and Yun Chu she hasn’t had any nourishing food in years. Though the wound isn’t fatal, she lost too much blood. She needs more rest. She should wake soon.”

The physician carefully measured his words. Hearing the title “Empress,” Fu Qingyin finally felt slightly relieved, but the sight of Wen Ying’s pale, lifeless face still unsettled her. She waved her hand dismissively, signaling the physician to go prepare the medicine.

“Little Wen Ying, shall your beautiful sister tell you a story today?” Fu Qingyin picked up the storybook Wen Ying had once read to her and began reciting it word for word in the gentlest voice she could muster.

But when Wen Ying finally stirred and weakly opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Fu Qingyin leaning in anxiously.

“Fu Qingyin.” Wen Ying instinctively called her name, her voice soft and fragile, tinged with the exhaustion of someone just waking from a long slumber.

Fu Qingyin let out a quiet “Mm,” then, as if struck by overwhelming joy, her eyes widened. Though she instinctively drew back, afraid Wen Ying might be angry, she couldn’t hide her happiness.

“A-Ying is finally awake.” Fu Qingyin had never considered herself prone to tears, yet now they fell unbidden, glistening droplets rolling down her cheeks and onto her neck.

Too weak to sit up, Wen Ying simply watched as Fu Qingyin stood there cautiously, just like the day they had met in the inn.

“I think, I had a dream.” Wen Ying recalled everything that had happened before she lost consciousness. It all felt surreal. Now, looking at Fu Qingyin’s slightly gaunt face, it was as if none of it had ever happened.

Fu Qingyin didn’t know how to respond. Tears welled in her eyes as she repeated, “It’s good that you’re awake, it’s good that you’re awake.”

Memories of the bloody scenes flooded back, and the pain in her waist flared anew. Wen Ying’s almond eyes dimmed.

“I’m a little tired.”

Her expression was calm, revealing neither joy nor sorrow, nor much anger. She turned away, refusing to look at Fu Qingyin though tears were already streaming down her face.

She didn’t know why she was crying, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She wasn’t blaming Fu Qingyin either she just didn’t know how to talk to her right now.

“A-Ying, you can’t keep sleeping. Get up, it’s time to eat and take your medicine.” Fu Qingyin didn’t want to upset Wen Ying, but she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything in two days. The only thing she had consumed was the medicine, and even that had to be forced down her throat.

Fu Qingyin remembered the imperial physician’s warning about Wen Ying’s frail condition. She couldn’t let her sleep on an empty stomach any longer, even if it risked making Wen Ying unhappy.

“I want porridge.” Wen Ying’s few words made Fu Qingyin smile through her tears. She immediately rushed out to instruct the palace maids.

Lying on the bed, Wen Ying watched Fu Qingyin’s retreating figure, her heart in turmoil.

By the time Fu Qingyin returned with the porridge, Wen Ying had already struggled to sit up and had even tied her hair into a simple bun. It was messy, but still better than before.

“Little Wen Ying, come eat.” Fu Qingyin sat by the bed, her hand trembling slightly as she held the spoon, afraid Wen Ying might lash out.

But Wen Ying only gazed at her with those beautiful eyes and asked, word by word: “Is my father dead?”

Fu Qingyin never expected such a question to come from Wen Ying like this. Her tone was unreadable nothing like the Wen Ying whose emotions had always been so easy to discern before.

Fu Qingyin’s grip on the spoon faltered, and it clattered against the porcelain bowl with a crisp sound.

For the first time, Fu Qingyin managed to restrain herself. She held Wen Ying’s hand, her voice slightly hoarse from Wen Ying’s teasing, but she still held back: “Little Wen Ying, I still owe you a grand wedding, remember? We’ll consummate our marriage then.”

Fu Qingyin’s voice was as gentle as she could make it, pouring all her love into it. She would make sure to fulfill her promise.

At this moment, Fu Qingyin even decided that once everything settled down, once all matters were resolved, she would take Wen Ying to live in a small mountain village. She would pick wildflowers for Wen Ying to tuck into her hair, accompany her to watch the red maple leaves fall in autumn, and lie together on the crimson-covered hills to rest.

All the injustices the world had inflicted upon their little Wen Ying over a decade ago Fu Qingyin would make up for them, bit by bit.

–

The coronation ceremony lasted an entire day. Dressed in resplendent robes, Wen Ying and Fu Qingyin were formally enshrined Fu Qingyin ascending the throne as emperor, and Wen Ying becoming empress.

The deep red of their garments trailed along the long steps, resembling the striking crimson of the distant maple-covered mountains.

Night finally fell, and the clamor of music that had filled the day at last quieted. Fu Qingyin, having drunk some wine, pushed open the doors to the empress’s chambers with trembling hands.

Today, she had given Wen Ying the grandest of weddings, yet her heart remained uneasy, fearing that Wen Ying might not be there when the doors opened.

When Fu Qingyin mustered the courage to step inside, she found Wen Ying tilting her head, struggling to support the weight of her ornate headdress.

“Why did you take so long? I’m exhausted help me take this off, won’t you?” Wen Ying pouted, walking over slowly to show Fu Qingyin the soreness in her neck from the heavy headpiece.

A red mark had even formed on her forehead.

“Wen Ying, you’ve suffered,” Fu Qingyin murmured, raising a hand to gently massage Wen Ying’s forehead. The faint scent of wine clinging to her made Wen Ying wrinkle her nose.

“That day, why did you say not to strike me down?” Wen Ying blurted out abruptly. The question had weighed on her mind all this time, even amidst the chaos Fu Qingyin’s emotions had been her foremost concern then.

Now, as she asked, Wen Ying already knew it must have been a misunderstanding. If Fu Qingyin had truly intended to kill her, why would she have threatened the imperial physicians to save her at all costs?

Fu Qingyin’s eyes flickered, as if suddenly recalling the emptiness of returning to her chambers that day only to find Wen Ying gone. She laughed softly.

“So that’s why little Wen Ying left with Wen Yuan that day?” Fu Qingyin sounded like a child who had just been given candy. She carefully removed Wen Ying’s hairpins and ornaments, then swept her up into her arms and carried her to the bed.

Wen Ying, trembling like a startled rabbit, watched Fu Qingyin warily. But Fu Qingyin only said, “That day, to seize the throne, I had to kill Emperor Wen. I feared it would grieve you, so I wanted to discuss with others how to avoid taking his life.”

With this long-standing misunderstanding finally cleared, Wen Ying smiled and wrapped her arms around Fu Qingyin’s waist, nestling into her embrace.

Feeling Wen Ying’s initiative, Fu Qingyin’s restraint unraveled further. Her grip tightened slightly as she inhaled the delicate fragrance from Wen Ying’s neck.

Expecting Wen Ying to shrink back in fear, Fu Qingyin hesitated should she ease up? But then, a soft kiss landed between her brows.

“Sister Wen Ying likes you.” The shy, tender whisper seemed to ignite the deepest of Fu Qingyin’s desires. Rationality abandoned her as she pulled Wen Ying close, the candlelight flickering around them in the quiet night.

The petals were damp with the night’s dew, yet the tempestuous ravishing only made them more tender and fresh. Wen Ying’s voice was hoarse, but she still willingly wrapped her arms around Fu Qingyin’s neck and whispered, “Wen Ying loves you.”

[The End]

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