The Regent Forced Me to Become Emperor and Marry Her [GL Yuri] - Chapter 3

“Cold Beef Salad, Stir-Fried Seasonal Vegetables, Pork Congee with Cilantro”

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Shen Changyin didn’t take the bait. Xie Yu pouted, fell silent, and rested her head on the carpet, silently calculating the carriage’s route as she felt the rhythmic jolts of the wheels.

After seven turns, the ride smoothed out considerably, the surrounding voices faded away, and the carriage came to a halt.

“Leader, we’ve arrived.”

Someone pulled back the carriage curtain. After Shen Changyin dismounted, two more figures leaped into the carriage and escorted Xie Yu out.

“Leader!”

Before her stood a brightly lit mansion, its vermilion gates wide and imposing, the threshold exceptionally high, and the plaque above the entrance covered in dust. This was the abandoned former Chancellor’s Residence.

Rebel soldiers, their arms wrapped in red cloth, stood guard every five steps, maintaining a strict watch and snapping to attention in unison as Xie Yu passed.

Xie Yu nodded slightly at Shen Changyin, who led her into the residence. The deeper she went, the more uneasy she felt.

Though the Rebel Army had only entered the city that night, they seemed intimately familiar with the mansion. Patrols guarded every hidden corner, and Shen Changyin moved through the labyrinthine garden with the precision of someone who had been here countless times.

She stopped. “Let’s take her there first.”

Two soldiers escorted Xie Yu to a hall draped with crimson curtains.

“Stay put,” they ordered, pressing her into a chair before retreating and closing the door.

Xie Yu surveyed her surroundings. A small round dining table stood before her, the room decorated with refined, antique furnishings that exuded a scholarly air. A bronze incense burner sat in the corner, and the doors to the two bedrooms on either side were tightly shut, their paper windows yellowed with age.
After waiting nearly fifteen minutes and realizing no one was coming to kill her, Xie Yu stretched her neck, settled into a comfortable position, and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, the door suddenly swung open. Shen Changyin stood in the doorway, having changed into fresh white robes. Her dark hair was still damp, not fully dried.

“Did you bathe?” Xie Yu asked.

Shen Changyin entered the room and sat down at the table. The warm, damp air brushed against Xie Yu’s face. “Hmm, hungry?”

“Of course,” Xie Yu replied.

“Any dietary restrictions?” Shen Changyin asked.

Such preferential treatment for a prisoner? Xie Yu thought. “Do I even get a choice? I hate cilantro.”

Shen Changyin gestured for two maids to approach. “Two bowls of short-grain rice porridge with minced meat, a plate each of beef and chicken, two plates of fresh vegetables, and extra cilantro in her porridge.”

“Tsk,” Xie Yu clicked her tongue.

I knew it.

Before the food arrived, the maids lit incense. The lingering scent of sandalwood brought a hint of warmth against the lingering spring chill, reminding Xie Yu of something else.

At this critical moment of rebellion, when a single misstep could mean execution, Shen Changyin remained so calm, unhurried, and focused on the finer things in life. Either she was a madwoman oblivious to the gravity of the situation, or she had already considered every possible outcome a hundred times over, accounting for every variable and ensuring nothing could escape her control.

Xie Yu leaned toward the latter.

The food arrived quickly. After the maids arranged the dishes, they brought a large bowl of dark, medicinal broth. “Your medicine, as specially instructed by the military physician. Please take care of your health.”

Shen Changyin nodded. “Leave it there.”

The maid placed the medicine on the corner of the table, untied Xie Yu’s ropes, and withdrew, closing the door behind her.

Xie Yu stretched her aching wrists, gazing at the table laden with fragrant, colorful dishes that clearly came from a master chef. A smug smile crept across her face as she picked up the coriander porridge and took a large gulp.

“Ha! You fell for it! I knew you weren’t a good person. I actually love coriander!”

“The porridge is poisoned,” Shen Changyin said calmly.

Xie Yu choked violently, coughing so hard the room seemed to shake.

She quickly regained her composure. “Impossible. You have plenty of ways to kill me. You wouldn’t need poison.”

She devoured the meat with gusto, eating until she was half full before noticing Shen Changyin’s unwavering gaze.

“Why are you staring at me? Aren’t you going to eat?”

Shen Changyin paused, shook her head, and picked up a piece of beef.

After eating, Xie Yu’s spirits lifted considerably. “I never expected you to enjoy these dishes. I always thought someone like you would only eat Cold Fragrance Pills.”

“What are Cold Fragrance Pills?”

“Twelve ounces of white peony stamens from spring, twelve ounces of white lotus stamens from summer, twelve ounces of white hibiscus stamens from autumn, and twelve ounces of white plum stamens from winter. Basically, anything that complements your refined elegance.” Xie Yu gestured toward the bowl of medicine at the corner of the table. “For example, on this table, only that bowl of medicine suits your style.”

The faint medicinal aroma filled her nostrils, instantly leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She grimaced, then chided herself for acting childishly. Turning to Shen Changyin, she demanded, “What exactly do you want? You’re staging a rebellion, for heaven’s sake! Shouldn’t you feel some sense of urgency? Whether it’s me or those river children, we’re all completely insignificant to you. Just let us go.”

Shen Changyin didn’t reply, continuing to eat with deliberate slowness.

Xie Yu shifted awkwardly for a moment. “Tsk,” she muttered.
She’d used that word more times today than in her entire life. Shen Changyin was truly bizarre. Rebelling was one thing, but giving her the silent treatment?

Just as she was about to unleash a torrent of curses, a faint whistling sound pierced the air.

Whoosh! A dark shadow flashed past her eyes. Xie Yu instinctively reached out and caught it: a slender, short arrow, its black-gleaming tip aimed directly at Shen Changyin’s forehead.

The clatter of metal and stone erupted outside the window, followed by a sharp shout: “Seize the assassins!”

Shen Changyin calmly brought a piece of beef to her mouth.

Xie Yu, on the verge of collapse, cried out, “Do you even have any emotions?!”

In an instant, several assassins stormed into the room, their faces masked in black cloth and their blades glinting sharply. They charged straight toward Shen Changyin and Xie Yu, but before they could get within two meters, the Rebel Army soldiers who had rushed in captured them.

Xie Yu watched, marveling at the Rebel Army’s swift movements, tight coordination, and even the air of special forces. This was nothing like the ancient soldiers she had imagined.

Who trained these men? she wondered. Could someone as frail as Shen Changyin really have led them to such discipline?

By the time Shen Changyin’s men had finished capturing the assassins, Xie Yu had finished her meal. She set down her chopsticks and took a sip of tea.

“Take them to the side courtyard,” she instructed.

The door closed softly, leaving Xie Yu alone in the room. She knew they must be interrogating the assassins.

She waited for what felt like an eternity, even picking at all the hangnails on her fingers, but no one returned. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer and stood up.

She tried the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. There were no guards in the courtyard either, so she slipped out and into the rear garden.

Wandering aimlessly, relying on her memory, she soon realized she was lost. Faint sounds led her forward, and she followed them.
She found herself before what must be the side courtyard Shen Changyin had mentioned. The pitch-black gate was slightly ajar, revealing a narrow strip of light, and the sound of screams drifted out.

Xie Yu’s heart leaped in her chest. She crept up to the door and peered through the crack. The courtyard was ablaze with light, and most of the pristine marble floor was covered in a pool of blood. The metallic stench filled her nostrils, so thick it made her want to vomit. The screams of a black-clad assassin only intensified her nausea.

She saw Shen Changyin in the courtyard, a slender dagger glinting in her long fingers. She was personally conducting the interrogation. With each flick of her wrist, the bloody scent grew stronger, and the assassin’s cries became more agonizing.

Finally, the assassin slumped forward, his voice weak and defeated. “I’ll confess,” he gasped.

Shen Changyin straightened up and flicked the dagger, shaking off the blood.

Xie Yu’s sharp eyes caught a thin strip of flesh sliding off the blade, resembling the shredded pork in the congee they’d just eaten.

But this was clearly human flesh.

Xie Yu’s mind went numb.

This is an interrogation. This is an interrogation. This is an interrogation.

This is the ancient world. This is the ancient world. This is the ancient world.

These assassins were trying to kill people just moments ago.

Even though every teacher at the police academy warned you never to extract confessions through torture, never to become a police officer who abuses power and inflicts suffering…

But this is the ancient world. You have to understand. You have to understand. You have to understand…

She desperately tried to convince herself, but her hand still trembled as she pushed open the courtyard gate. The creaking sound immediately drew the attention of everyone inside.

But she had no time to care about that now. Waves of nausea churned in her stomach. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but ultimately bent over and vomited into the nearby bushes.

She finished quickly, straightened up, her hands and feet icy. Without looking back, she began to run.
She had no idea where she was going, stumbling through the uneven terrain until she found herself back in the room she had just left.

She slammed the door shut and instinctively grabbed the arrow she had placed on the table earlier, clutching it in her hand as she faced the door.

But what could she possibly do? Against so many rebel soldiers, what difference could one arrow make?

She might kill one, but could she possibly kill them all?

It felt like only moments had passed, or perhaps an eternity. The door slowly creaked open.

Shen Changyin stood in the night, draped in white robes. Her hair was dripping wet, like a vengeful water spirit trying to drag someone down to drown in her place.

“You’re afraid of me?” she asked, stepping closer.

Xie Yu couldn’t help but back away.

“Do you think I’m cruel and tyrannical?”

One stepped forward, the other retreated. Xie Yu was quickly cornered against the window, with nowhere left to go. She raised her arrow, aiming it at Shen Changyin.

In that fleeting moment of eye contact, she thought she saw disappointment and hatred in Shen Changyin’s eyes, but the expression vanished as quickly as it appeared. Before she could react, Shen Changyin spoke:

“You’re a princess. Do you think the House of Xie’s thirty-dynasty reign over this empire came about through virtue alone? How do you think we secured our power?”

“Are the methods your House of Xie has used, or you, the Third Princess of this dynasty, any cleaner than mine?”

“Still,” the pale-faced woman chuckled softly, extending two fingers to flick the arrowhead, “you saved me from this arrow just now. It seems only fair that you’re aiming it at me now.”

She grasped Xie Yu’s hand, tilting the arrowhead upward to expose her neck. “If you’re so righteous, so determined to eliminate me, this tyrant, you should know that striking here is faster and more precise.”

“Do it.”

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