The Transmigrated Princess - Chapter 41

Seeing that Xie Zhizhen was unwilling to say more, Gu Qing stopped pressing her. Her eyes flickered with a soft light as she knelt down before Zhizhen, meeting her gaze at eye level. Her voice was tender as she asked, “Zhenzhen, then can you at least tell me where ‘Xiao Mei’ is?”

At the sound of this unfamiliar name, Xie Zhizhen froze. Her instinctive reaction was a blank stare. “Who is Xiao Mei?”

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized she had slipped up. One could easily guess from the names that Xiao Mei was Xiao Lan’s sister—the very sister Zhizhen had just claimed to know. Realizing she had been successfully baited, Zhizhen pursed her lips and turned her head away, refusing to acknowledge Gu Qing.

Gu Qing took Zhizhen’s hand and pressed it against her own cheek, feeling the distinctly low temperature of her palm. She feigned a hurt expression. “Can’t you tell even me?”

She had expected this show of vulnerability to soften Zhizhen’s stance—after all, her “sad kitten” act usually worked wonders. However, Zhizhen’s body went rigid. She pulled her hand back, her face turning a ghostly pale. Her lips thinned into a hard line as she whispered, “I want to wash my hands first.”

Gu Qing was stunned. Watching Zhizhen, her intuition screamed that something was wrong. Perhaps because Zhizhen had been so compliant and affectionate lately, Gu Qing hadn’t realized how severe the situation was until she saw the frantic way the girl began to scrub her hands once the maids brought the water.

Zhizhen scrubbed with a desperate intensity, not stopping even when her skin turned a raw red. Watching her, a sense of déjà vu washed over Gu Qing. She suddenly remembered a time on a boat trip when Zhizhen had scrubbed her hands exactly like this. Gu Qing had thought that after months of intimacy, Zhizhen had moved past her aversion to touch—but seeing her now, the condition seemed far more severe than before.

Gu Qing took a step forward, intending to grab her wrist and make her stop, but she froze mid-motion. If Zhenzhen’s condition has worsened, my touch will only cause her more pain.

She withdrew her hand, her voice low. “Did something happen?”

Subconsciously wanting to protect Gu Qing from the darkness, Zhizhen avoided her gaze. “It’s nothing.”

“Then why are you scrubbing your hands like that?” Gu Qing looked at the reddened skin in somber silence. “Does it… make you feel nauseous?”

“It’s fine. It’ll pass in a moment.”

Seeing her stubbornness, Gu Qing stepped forward and leaned in to kiss her cheek. It was a pure instinctual reflex—Zhizhen flinched away. Gu Qing’s lips landed only on her hair, missing her skin entirely.

Gu Qing let out a hollow laugh. “Are you still going to tell me it’s nothing?”

Knowing she could no longer hide it, Zhizhen dried the water from her hands. “Follow me,” she said quietly.

They went to the bedroom, where Zhizhen pointed toward the bed. “Look for yourself.”

Gu Qing reached under the bed frame and felt around until her fingers brushed against a square wooden chest. She pulled it out; it was covered in a layer of dust. Wiping it away, she opened the chest to find a stack of scrolls. She unfurled the first one: it was a portrait of a delicate-looking woman in maid’s clothing, her expression void of emotion.

Confused, Gu Qing looked at Zhizhen, who was sitting stiffly and drinking tea, though her hands were visibly trembling. Gu Qing continued to go through the scrolls. There were eighteen in total, one of which was indeed Xiao Mei.

“These are…”

A bold, dark theory began to form in Gu Qing’s mind. Xiao Lan was from Xie Zhili’s manor, so her sister Xiao Mei must have been there as well. The women in these portraits were likely all from the same place. But why would this trigger a relapse in Zhizhen’s trauma? The National Preceptor had been close with Xie Zhili; Zhizhen must have encountered these women during her three-month imprisonment at the Preceptor’s manor.

Zhizhen didn’t know their names, yet she had drawn them. Under what circumstances would a Princess see so many women whose names she didn’t know, yet feel such a crushing, compensatory guilt toward them that she would treat their surviving kin like blood sisters?

Not as maids… but as “performers” in a live erotic show.

Xie Zhizhen’s next words confirmed the nightmare. “They were the innocent ones.”

The air in the room seemed to vanish. Even though she had guessed, hearing it from Zhizhen made Gu Qing’s heart shatter. Recalling the acts those women were forced to perform before her, and the agony etched onto their faces, Zhizhen’s eyes welled with tears. The memories she had tried so hard to bury came back in a flood. Even without being touched, the phantom sensation of those scenes made her stomach churn. She covered her mouth, a wave of self-loathing washing over her.

Gu Qing watched her, feeling a desperate, helpless pain. She knew Zhizhen’s history, but she had never fully grasped the horror of the victims involved. These were young women in the prime of their lives, forced into such degradation. And knowing the Preceptor’s cruelty, they likely didn’t survive.

Gu Qing stepped forward, wanting to hold her and tell her it wasn’t her fault. But she knew the saying: I didn’t kill the man, but he died because of me. Zhizhen had never meant to hurt them, but they had suffered because of her very existence.

Words felt hollow. Touch felt like a burden. Gu Qing’s voice was hoarse as she asked, “Where are their bodies?”

“In the outskirts,” Zhizhen choked out.

After the Preceptor had murdered the women in front of her and discarded them, Zhizhen had been released. Her first act wasn’t to go to the palace, but to take a group of secret guards to the mass graves. They had transported the bodies to the outskirts and erected tombstones for each of them. She had tried to find their families, but they all appeared to be orphans with no records.

For a long time, Zhizhen had been suicidal, trapped in deep depression. It was only Consort Shu’s encouragement and the hope of seeing Gu Qing one last time that had kept her alive. She had almost forgotten, until she saw that portrait in the study.

Gu Qing took Zhizhen to the outskirts. They found the orderly rows of tombstones, blank and nameless. Brightly colored flowers grew beside each one, making the place look more like a garden than a cemetery. Fresh food and fruit sat before the stones, clearly replaced daily. A small, clean thatched hut stood nearby, suggesting someone lived there to tend the graves.

Without a word, Gu Qing knelt before the graves. Zhizhen tried to stop her, but Gu Qing was immovable.

“This tragedy began with me,” Gu Qing said, her voice firm and filled with genuine emotion. “It was because I let her suffer that you all met this end. If your souls have any awareness in the afterlife, please settle this debt on my head alone.”

“What are you doing?!” Zhizhen cried, tears streaming down her face as she pulled at Gu Qing’s arm. “Gu Qing, don’t do this!”

Gu Qing gently brushed her hand away. “I am no great hero,” she continued, her voice ringing with the authority of a general. “But in my two years at the front, I have fought thirty-two battles. I cannot say how many lives I’ve saved, but it is in the tens of thousands. I have strategized and put myself in harm’s way to minimize the casualties of my soldiers. I don’t know how much ‘karma’ or ‘blessing’ these deeds have earned me, but if there is any, I, Gu Qing, am willing to give it all to you. May you find peace and a better life in your next reincarnation.”

She took a breath and added, “And for those who have families left behind, we will find them and give them the compensation and care they deserve.”

Support