Fan Yunxi packed simple, plain clothing; since they were going to Baima Temple, she didn’t bring any jewelry or hairpins. Before leaving, she left a note explaining that she and Empress Xie were headed to Baima Temple and would return soon.
At the main gate, Empress Xie was already waiting in the carriage.
Fan Yunxi felt a bit apologetic, "Sorry to keep you waiting, Aunt."
Empress Xie, of course, replied that it was no trouble.
However, Fan Yunxi noticed the carriage behind them and found it strange that Empress Xie hadn’t brought much luggage, only a single wooden box. "Aunt, is this all you’re bringing?"
"An old woman doesn’t need much—just a few changes of clothes," Empress Xie replied.
"What about the chief nanny? Why isn’t she with us?" Typically, the chief nanny always accompanied Empress Xie closely whenever she left the palace.
Empress Xie waved it off. "Forget about her. She’s been with me for years, yet her hands are still not clean. I locked her in the woodshed to teach her a lesson. I’ll send her away after we return—after all, I’ve been lenient with her over the years."
Fan Yunxi muttered inwardly, wondering how the chief nanny could be so foolish. Despite Empress Xie’s current misfortunes, she was still the empress and had Marquis Zhenbei’s support—surely she wouldn’t suffer financially.
Empress Xie said nothing more and ordered the procession to depart.
Yin Yao, an Imperial Guard assigned by Emperor Muwu to protect her, took charge of the escort. At his command, the convoy began moving.
At the city gates, they encountered another small procession, where two women disembarked to greet Empress Xie. They were Lady Su, Ye Chengyan’s primary wife, and Rong Dongling. Both women had endured their share of hardships. After Ye Chengyan’s failed rebellion, they had been sentenced to die by poison. However, the Ninth Prince’s investigation revealed they were innocent and spared them.
Though alive and with no harm to their families, they were still the wives of a traitor. Now confined to a large residence, they lived with no hope or purpose, their faces drained of any joy.
Fan Yunxi glanced at them and felt a pang of sympathy.
Empress Xie cast an indifferent glance at them. "Since you’re out, make the most of it and relax. Get in the carriage."
Lady Su and Rong Dongling obediently reboarded their carriage.
Once on the road again, Fan Yunxi felt uneasy. Empress Xie had previously despised Lady Su and Rong Dongling, blaming them for not restraining Ye Chengyan and thus driving him to treason. And yet, today, she invited them to leave the capital with her...
"Aunt, why bring them along? Didn’t you avoid seeing them before?" Fan Yunxi asked.
Empress Xie seemed to know what she was thinking. She sighed and said, "Lady Su is Yan’er’s wife. It wouldn’t be sincere to pray for him without her."
Satisfied with the explanation, Fan Yunxi let the matter go. She gently touched her stomach, hoping the trip to Baima Temple would grant her wish for a child.
Xie Beihan had rushed out early in the morning because an antique dealer claimed to have found a portrait of Death God.
But when Xie Beihan looked at the painting, he couldn’t help but scowl. Pointing to the painting of a woman, he exclaimed in frustration, "I gave up a good sleep to come here, and you show me this?!"
A portrait of Death God? This was clearly a beauty!
Since when was Death God a woman?
And it wasn’t even a full face; the figure was only shown from behind, with her head turned just enough to reveal part of a stunning side profile.
Even with just half a face, he could see the woman was exceptionally beautiful. A red mark on her forehead added an air of mystery. If it were called a goddess’s portrait, he might believe it. But Death God? He’d never buy it.
The dealer defended himself, "Lord Xie, take a closer look! The paper is yellowed, a bit aged—this must be over a thousand years old. And look, it was painted by the famous artist Han Zhiyu of the Great Zhou Dynasty! This is a Han family heirloom. They only sold it because the snow disaster left them destitute."
Xie Beihan rolled his eyes. "You always have the same story, don’t you? It’s tiresome. Left, right—this looks like his imaginary goddess, not Death God. Even if Death God isn’t monstrous-looking, he’s definitely a man! Not some woman."
Blaming his lack of historical knowledge, he had never even heard of Han Zhiyu.
The dealer shook his head. "Lord Xie, that’s subjective. Who says Death God must be male? Take the Ninth Princess, for instance—isn’t she more formidable than most men?"
"Besides, while you’ve never seen Death God, Master Han actually did! That’s why he painted her and even inscribed a poem in her honor!"
Xie Beihan gave him a deadpan stare. "You’ll say anything to sell this painting, huh? Aren’t you afraid Death God will come teach you a lesson?"
The dealer straightened his posture, unafraid. He snorted, pulled Xie Beihan into a seat, and began brewing tea. "Let me tell you the whole story."
It was said that over a thousand years ago, a young ghost queen of about five ruled an area of Lian State. She had been tormented by her birth parents when alive, and after her death, she avenged herself by killing any parent who mistreated their child. Yet, she spared the children.
However, without parents, these children fared no better—many of the younger ones starved or froze, while older ones who fled her territory led a life of hardship as vagrants. The young ghost queen caused much suffering.
One day, the painter Han Zhiyu, unaware of her nature, traveled through her territory with his wife and son.
Seeing them, the ghost queen followed, planning to kill and drain the souls of the parents if they showed the slightest harshness toward their child. But Han Zhiyu was mild-mannered, his wife compassionate, and they doted on their son without a single harsh word.
The ghost queen shadowed them for days, watching. Not only did they treat their child well, but the boy was well-behaved. One day, he noticed the ghost queen, thinking she was a street child, and offered her a pastry.
Looking at the pastry, the ghost queen suddenly burst into tears. "I want you to be my big brother... I want your father and mother to be mine too..."
In the days she had observed them, she had felt both envious and resentful. Why had her parents mistreated her so cruelly, while other children had such loving parents?
The boy blinked and asked, "Don’t you have a father or mother?"
The ghost queen shook her head. "No, they’re dead now."
They were, in fact, the parents she had killed after becoming a ghost queen, a spirit filled with resentment who had devoured countless wicked souls to gain power.