Destiny Spares No Beauty

Chapter Nineteen: The Snowfalling Mountains

Golden sunlight lay lazily across the splendor of the palace, its warmth tinged with a damp heat. Ancient trees stood watch in the courtyard, their dark green branches swaying now and then, casting trembling shadows on the stone paths below.

Qin Lan lay weakly in bed, a faint, unreadable smile ghosting across her pale but lovely face. Through the carved lattice of the window, her gaze swept across every blade of grass, every leaf outside. Her eyes flickered with something close to satisfaction.

The wounds weren’t fatal, but they were severe enough to leave a mark.

She pressed a hand lightly to the injury—sharp pain lanced through her entire body.

And she laughed.

Because it had all been worth it.

“Your Majesty, the medicine is ready,” Ping’er said softly as she brought in a bowl of decoction, careful and sweet as ever.

She, too, noticed that strange smile on Qin Lan’s face.

Qin Lan turned toward her, still smiling.

“Allow me to help Your Majesty sit up,” Ping’er offered, placing the medicine down and reaching toward her mistress.

But Qin Lan simply lay still and shook her head gently.

“Your Majesty?”

“What a well-behaved little maid,” Qin Lan murmured, her voice like silk, “such a pity…”

“Your Majesty? I… I don’t understand…”

“How could you not understand?” Qin Lan said, still smiling, “When I sent the death squad, wasn’t it you who released the pigeon?”

Ping’er’s face went deathly pale. She fell to her knees with a gasp. “Your Majesty! I swear it wasn’t me! I would never—never do anything to harm you!”

Qin Lan looked at her calmly. “I guarded against the Emperor. I guarded against the Prince. But I forgot… to guard against the people closest to me. Hah…”

“Your Majesty, you’re mistaken! I would never betray you, never!” Ping’er pleaded, kneeling, her voice frantic. But Qin Lan didn’t seem to hear a word of it. She just kept smiling.

“Because of you, my father has been dismissed… forced to flee for his life…” she murmured, lifting a delicate hand and pointing past the screen. “Look over there.”

Ping’er turned.

A woman emerged from behind the screen—dressed as a maid. And as she stepped closer, Ping’er’s heart nearly stopped. That face, that figure—it was like looking into a mirror.

“You were always just a maid in the Prince’s household, weren’t you, Ping’er?” Qin Lan’s voice turned cold. “I shouldn’t have expected you to play the part of my maid so well. It was too much to ask.”

Ping’er’s heart sank. So this was it.

She wasn’t getting out alive.

But how could she accept this? To be replaced by a double? To let this impostor fool the Prince? No. No, that was unbearable.

She had known, from the moment she entered the palace, that her fate was sealed. But still—she hadn’t expected the Queen to uncover the truth so quickly.

“Yugu must be lonely by now…” Qin Lan added softly. “It’s time you went to keep her company.”

The smile vanished from her face, replaced by icy resolve.

Ping’er didn’t beg. She simply bowed her head, kneeling, silent. She knew what was coming.

There was no suspense in it.

She knew what the Queen was capable of.

A soft whistle sounded.

Two dark figures flashed into the room—her death squad.

A gleam of steel.

A splash of crimson.

Qin Lan’s voice, cold as frost: “Surround every city gate. Lin Ran’s men are hunting for Zuo Yanxi—don’t let them get close. If anything happens, report to me directly.”

And indeed, Lin Ran’s forces were scouring every inch of the empire for Zuo Yanxi. He had even caught traces of her trail, and suspected she’d gone to the Snow Mountains. But if he sent a large force into Xilan’s border territory, it would rouse suspicion. Even if they reached the mountains, few could survive the climb.

So he gave his orders: guard the gates. Zuo Yanxi would return someday.

The capital felt like it had been buried under a thousand layers of netting—tight, dense, overlapping. One trap strung within another.

By the time Lin Yizhi entered the palace, Qin Lan was already sitting upright, proud and composed, the picture of poise. She looked like a victor awaiting her vanquished.

Pearl-beaded curtains hung from the bedframe, and beyond them, a gauzy screen shimmered in the light. On either side, crimson wooden chairs flanked the space. If he came, that was where he would sit.

It was the first time she had ever received Lin Yizhi with the formal etiquette of court.

To him, she had never been “the Empress.” But today, she must be.

Lin Yizhi arrived, as expected.

His tall figure stepped into the room, and Qin Lan’s heart gave a sudden jolt. Even so, she reined in her emotions and greeted him evenly: “So the Prince seeks an audience with this palace—what matter brings you here?”

He didn’t seem especially surprised by her new demeanor. His eyes swept the room, and when he glimpsed a figure behind the screen—one whose shape resembled Ping’er—his expression eased slightly.

“I came to see how Your Majesty was doing,” he said. “Are you feeling any better today?”

Qin Lan chuckled. “Why bother with the performance? You’ve gone to such lengths for your little consort. It’s touching, really.”

“I think Your Majesty is mistaken,” he replied calmly. “I’m not here to beg you for anything.”

Qin Lan froze.

“I simply want to ask if you’re aware that the dismissed Prime Minister was ambushed on his journey home?”

“…How serious was it?” Qin Lan’s fingers clutched the thin quilt, her pale knuckles straining white.

“No need for alarm,” he said. “My men rescued him. But he’s old and frail—I’m not sure he’ll survive long enough to see you again.”

Qin Lan’s teeth clenched. “So even Prince Lin resorts to such vile tactics…”

“In desperate times, desperate measures are required,” Lin Yizhi said smoothly.

Qin Lan let out a short, bitter laugh. “Then let me offer my regrets. Zuo Yanxi striking me down is already a fact. Whether or not His Majesty issues an arrest warrant, the stain on her name is permanent.”

Lin Yizhi was caught off guard.

So it was Lin Ran who had refused to issue the arrest? Then why was he still scouring the land for her? What tangled cause lay beneath this?

Could it be… Lin Ran knew Zuo Yanxi’s true identity?

No—that couldn’t be…

His eyes turned again to the blurry silhouette behind the screen. He still couldn’t believe it—couldn’t accept that Zuo Yanxi was the one who had attacked Qin Lan.

“You’d best return my father intact,” Qin Lan warned coldly. “Otherwise, I can’t guarantee what I might do.”

“I will do what I can,” Lin Yizhi said with a faint bow. “But Your Majesty knows—those who want the Chancellor dead are beyond even me.”

With that, he turned and left.

Qin Lan watched him go, her chest cold as ice.

She had never imagined she would one day stand in opposition to him.

In her hand, she clutched a message delivered by carrier pigeon from Dongzhu. Just a few rough lines—but they chilled her to the bone.

So she was to follow the Emperor’s orders, was she? No—she couldn’t. If she did, she would lose Lin Yizhi forever…

But perhaps… perhaps she could change things.

If she succeeded, she could stand at Lin Yizhi’s side—rightfully, openly—as his wife.

“Ping’er.”

“I am here,” the maid answered, bowing.

Qin Lan’s eyes settled on a small green porcelain vial on the table. Her gaze darkened.

The maid seemed to understand her thoughts, stepping forward on light feet to take the bottle. “I’ll take care of it.”

Qin Lan nodded. “Make sure you dispose of any remaining poison—leave no trace.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Ping’er tucked the bottle into her sleeve and slipped away.

“Zuo Yanxi…” Qin Lan murmured. “I’ll never waste a single chance to use you…”

From within the cold shadows of New Moon Palace, a soft, chilling laugh echoed through the night.