Joy of Life: Born to Ye Qingmei, raised by Li Yunrui

Chapter 81 Emperor Qing's Fear

Those scenes from back then, those bloody, insane images that would haunt his nightmares...

A flood of emotions surged into my heart. Ye Qingmei's clear, yet slightly mocking eyes, the disappointed yet resolute expression on her face as she looked at me for the last time...

Fear! An unprecedented fear gripped Emperor Qing's heart!

She's been dead for so many years, why would her body suddenly disappear? Who did it? Could it be... could it be that she really...

Emperor Qing dared not think any further. He felt his legs go weak and a warm current surged through his lower abdomen. A faint, shameful stench permeated the imperial study. This supreme ruler, upon hearing the news of Ye Qingmei's missing body, was actually so frightened that he wet himself!

He slumped onto the dragon throne, his face ashen, his body trembling violently, muttering to himself, "Is it her? Is she coming back? Is she coming back to take my life?"

The old eunuch knelt on the ground, not daring to raise his head or even breathe, his heart churning with turmoil. He had served His Majesty for many years, and had never seen His Majesty so distraught, so terrified! Even though Fairy Ye had passed away many years ago, she remained His Majesty's deepest nightmare.

On that day, Emperor Qing, for the first time ever, did not handle any state affairs.

As night fell, he tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. He finally drifted off, only to be plunged into an endless nightmare.

In my dream, a blood moon hung in the sky, and corpses littered the Taiping Villa.

Ye Qingmei, dressed in white and covered in blood, carried a strangely shaped "box" in her hand.

She walked towards him step by step.

And at this moment.

Her eyes were cold and devoid of emotion, only her clear and melodious voice...

But then a chilling voice asked:

"Qinglang, are you still firmly seated on this throne?"

"No! Don't come any closer! It wasn't me! I didn't kill you!"

Emperor Qing screamed in terror in his dream and desperately retreated.

"And who is that?"

Ye Qingmei's smile was both eerie and tragic.

"Have you forgotten the promises you made to me back then? Have you forgotten how you betrayed me?"

Countless dark figures emerged from behind her.

Those were everyone involved in the bloodshed back then; their faces were contorted with rage, and they all pointed at Emperor Qing.

"ah--!"

Emperor Qing suddenly sat up from his dragon bed.

He is at this moment.

I was drenched in cold sweat.

My heart pounded like a drum. The moonlight outside the window was cold and clear, and the hall was deathly silent.

He was breathing heavily, the fear from his dream still vivid in his mind.

At that moment, he touched his forehead and found it covered in cold sweat.

"Ye Qingmei, Ye Qingmei,"

At that moment, he was gritting his teeth as he uttered that name.

His eyes were filled with fear, and a trace of regret that he himself was unwilling to admit.

This night was destined to be a sleepless one for Emperor Qing.

The disappearance of Ye Qingmei's body was like a huge boulder...

His involvement in the already turbulent political situation of the Qing Kingdom stirred up even more turbulent undercurrents.

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The shock of Ye Qingmei's "immortal remains" disappearing did not only shake the foundation of the imperial palace;

It spread like ripples, reaching the ears of an old swordsman who had long claimed to have retired from worldly affairs.

In the palace,

Ye Liuyun's residence.

Ye Liuyun stood by the vast lake reflecting the sky, his white robe motionless in the breeze.

His face, usually calm and serene, seemingly untouched by the passage of time, was now filled with deep surprise.

This is truly rare for someone who is one of the four grandmasters.

The message, delivered through channels only he could control, was so astonishing that it could not be ignored.

"Ye Qingmei's body has vanished?"

He murmured to himself, his voice soft, yet it seemed to carry the weight of an entire era.

His thoughts, like ripples on the lake before him, stirred with the image of a woman bathed in sunlight.

Her laughter was as free as the wind, and her thoughts were as dazzling and dangerous as a comet.

He recalled their first encounter, not as rivals, but as curious explorers. She had approached him not for a sword duel, but for a clash of intellect and philosophy.

"Master Ye," she once said, her eyes gleaming with an almost eerie light, "everyone says your swordsmanship is as fluid as flowing water, elegant and free, embodying the true meaning of freedom. But if you cannot break free from all constraints—the constraints of tradition, the constraints of power, the constraints of the die-hard fans of Pu Nan Shusheng, and the constraints of this world where life and death are controlled by others—how can you speak of true freedom?"

At that time, he was already one of the four grandmasters, high above and untouched by worldly affairs. However, her words pierced through his carefully constructed indifference. He recalled her astonishing inventions, those bizarre metal creations that completely overturned known martial arts and mechanical principles. He had seen the "box" she often carried, capable of unleashing unimaginable destructive power, which would make even a grandmaster feel uneasy.

Then came rumors, conspiracies, and the growing fear and hatred of the old guard towards her. He had witnessed the storm brewing, felt the undercurrent of fear and hatred directed at her. And he, Ye Liuyun, chose neutrality. Perhaps it was a cowardice disguised as wisdom. He told himself that this was not his war; the tides of the world had their own course. He stood by, a silent observer, watching helplessly as Ye Qingmei's light was cruelly extinguished.

"She often said, 'Possibilities beyond death,'"

Ye Liuyun pondered, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. "Not reincarnation in the traditional sense, but rather, continuation. Did she plan this all along? Or has someone else unlocked one of her many secrets?" The thought of Ye Qingmei, or anything related to her, possibly stirring up trouble again sent a chill down his spine—not entirely fear, but a profound sense of the unknown, enough to change the world. This game of chess seems far from over.

Inside the palace,

The Empress Dowager's and Empress's bedroom.

If Emperor Qing's reaction was one of extreme fear, then the reactions of the Empress Dowager and the current Empress were a symphony composed of pure, overwhelming panic.

The Empress Dowager's face, etched with years of political intrigue and filled with malice, seemed to stand on end when she heard the news from a trembling, terrified eunuch. Her carefully styled hair stood on end, and her eyes bulged as if they were about to jump out of their sockets.

"What, what did you say?!" she screamed, her voice like shattered porcelain. "That, that witch, her, her bones are gone?!"

The teacup, trembling in her hands, crashed to the floor and shattered, mirroring her composure. She clutched her throat, gasping for breath. "No, no, no! It can't be! She's dead! We saw her die! We confirmed it!"

Suddenly, a choking gurgling sound escaped her throat. Her eyes rolled back, her body slumped to the side, and a dark stain quickly spread across the silk cushion beneath her. The attending maids screamed and rushed forward, creating chaos. The Empress Dowager hadn't just fainted; in her extreme terror, she had lost control of her bladder and bowels. A pungent, shameful odor filled the air. When she was finally awakened by the smelling salts, she was no longer the dignified Empress Dowager, but a rambling, incoherent, and deranged corpse.

"She's come looking for me!" The Empress Dowager babbled incoherently, clutching a golden Buddha statue tightly until her knuckles turned white. "Her ghost! I saw her! She's still smiling like that, that damned smile! Get away! All of you get away!" She started throwing things around and screaming at the air, interpreting every flicker of the candlelight as the ghostly figure of Ye Qingmei seeking revenge.

The current Empress, a young woman chosen after the Guo family's downfall due to her docile nature and powerful family background, is in no better shape. She was too young at the time to directly participate in the plot to murder Ye Qingmei, but her family was one of the staunchest supporters of the old order and profited immensely from Ye Qingmei's downfall. She had heard countless terrifying rumors about Ye Qingmei's immense power and her even more formidable son, Ye Tian.

When the news of the missing body and Emperor Qing's unprecedentedly terrified reaction reached her ears, the Empress let out a scream loud enough to freeze milk. She felt a sudden, uncontrollable warm current spread between her legs, followed by a shameful wetness.

"Help! Help!" she screamed hysterically, her voice piercing to its peak, "She's back! That witch's son, Ye Tian, ​​he's found a way! He's going to kill us all! He'll skin us alive!"

Her palace was thrown into chaos. She overturned tables, smashed precious porcelain, and tore at her magnificent phoenix robe, convinced that Ye Qingmei's ghost was hidden in the intricate embroidery.

She ordered all windows to be closed, the palace gates to be fortified with multiple layers of defense, and surrounded herself completely by a group of trembling eunuchs and guards.

However, no amount of physical protection could quell the boundless fear that was gnawing at her sanity.

She saw Ye Qingmei in every reflection, and heard her name in every gust of wind.

She repeatedly fainted, and upon waking, she was plunged into a new and even deeper fear.

The imperial physicians could only shake their heads and sigh, for this was a psychological affliction, a fear that medicine would be ineffective.

Qin Palace

Ye Tian's resolve had not changed at this moment; on the contrary, it had become even more resolute.

The collective panic and collapse in the palace quickly reached Ye Tian's ears.

He listened expressionlessly, his eyes flashing with a cold, predatory light.

Emperor Qing's fear, the Empress Dowager's madness, and the new Empress's hysteria—

All of this was like the most beautiful music to him.

This proves how deep the trauma his mother left in the souls of those sinners.