Chapter 119: The Dream — Qin Buyao’s Fate
Qin Buyao of the previous life seemed somewhat different from the Qin Buyao of this life. She liked wearing pink palace dresses and looked especially delicate and alluring.
She sat in the Morning Light Palace—this very palace that, in this life, he had bestowed upon Consort Li. Perhaps in a poor mood, she was drinking, cup after cup. Her slightly intoxicated face was flushed, her eyes hazy with allure as she gazed out the window, as though waiting for something.
Cui Huan tried to snatch the wine cup from her hand, but Qin Buyao dodged her.
“Your Highness, this servant begs you to stop drinking. If you keep this up, next time I won’t go find wine for you!”
Qin Buyao chuckled softly. “Cui Huan, which beauty do you think His Majesty will stay with tonight?”
Cui Huan replied sadly, “This servant heard that His Majesty went to Noble Lady Xue’s palace.”
Qin Buyao gave a low “oh.”
“Your Highness, please stop drinking. No matter how much you drink, His Majesty won’t come tonight,” Cui Huan cried.
Holding her wine cup, Qin Buyao laughed bitterly. “When I first entered the palace, he said he would favor me forever—but he broke his promise. He only sees the new smiling and never hears the old crying. I believed his solemn vow, never thinking that in the end it would all be bullshit!”
The semi-transparent Yan Mohan stood to the side watching her, his brows slightly knit.
Had he really said he would favor her forever? Even if he had, so what? As the ruler of a nation, with three thousand beauties in the harem, how could he possibly favor only her?
Yet her demeanor made it clear—she had believed him.
Just as Yan Mohan was lost in thought, he saw a man break in through the window.
When he recognized who it was, his eyes flew open, killing intent bursting forth.
It was his dear younger brother, Yan Moyu!
Why was he in the Morning Light Palace? Had they indeed been entangled long ago?
Yan Mohan’s lowered hand clenched into a fist, trembling with force.
He didn’t want to watch these two shameless lovers being intimate, but he found he couldn’t move at all and could only watch helplessly as Yan Moyu drew closer and closer to Qin Buyao.
Seeing Yan Moyu, Cui Huan couldn’t help crying out, “Prince Xian, how—”
Before she could finish, Yan Moyu sealed her acupoints and knocked her unconscious with a palm strike.
Yan Moyu walked up to Qin Buyao, snatched the wine bottle from her hand, and said angrily, “So this is how you’ve been living in the palace? And you still lied to me, saying Yan Mohan treated you well? Buyao, open your eyes—Yan Mohan is not a good man. In his heart, you’re no different from those other women, nothing more than a plaything!”
Qin Buyao was clearly drunk by now. She hiccupped, staggered to her feet, and pointed at Yan Moyu. “Your… Your Majesty? Your Majesty, you finally remembered this concubine!”
As she spoke, she lunged forward, threw her arms around the man before her, and began to cry in grievance.
Yan Moyu froze for a moment, then quickly hugged her back and said softly, “Buyao, I like you. Don’t think about Yan Mohan anymore. From now on, Brother Yu will treat you well.”
After that, the two naturally tumbled together—one murmuring “Your Majesty,” the other murmuring “Buyao.”
The glaring scene nailed Yan Mohan to the spot. Earlier he had tried every way to avoid witnessing it, but now he found himself wanting to listen a little longer to the woman’s soft murmurs.
She was calling his name the whole time.
While Yan Mohan was dazed, he saw the woman wake up and slap Yan Moyu across the face, raging as if she wanted to run him through with a sword.
Yan Moyu fled. Before leaving, he gave his promise—he would never betray her.
Feeling she had wronged the emperor, Qin Buyao had Cui Huan procure a slow-acting poison. She took a little each day, growing thinner and thinner, her complexion worsening by the day.
Yet in the dream, Yan Mohan seemed not to notice any of this. He wandered among countless beauties, forgetting Qin Buyao’s existence. Even when he occasionally visited her palace, her heavy makeup hid the changes, and not only did he fail to notice—he even disliked the heavy scent of rouge on her body, going there less and less.
Holding the bowl of slow-acting poison, Qin Buyao smashed it to the ground.
“No—why should I die quietly all by myself? Yes, I did something that wronged him, but when has he ever treated me right? If I must suffer, if I must die, then I’ll drag him down with me!”
As she spoke, her lips curved into a sweet smile. “Yan Mohan, when you married me into the palace, you told me we would share the same bed in life and the same grave in death. I’m no longer pure now, and I really, really want to die. Come die with me—won’t you?”
Seeing the woman speak such ruthless words with a sweet expression, the semi-transparent Yan Mohan took a step back, his mouth slightly open, as if frightened by the sight before him.
He had never seen such a Qin Buyao—neither in his previous life nor in this one.
After that, Yan Mohan saw many more scenes: the disheartened Qin Buyao entangling herself with Prince Xian, Yan Moyu, the two of them plotting together for his throne—everything overlapping exactly with what he had experienced in his previous life.
Finally, Qin Buyao, clad in an elaborate and magnificent empress’s phoenix robe, walked toward the court, accepting the kneeling homage of civil and military officials together with Yan Moyu.
Yan Mohan thought everything would end there—but instead, he saw Qin Buyao drag the heavy phoenix robe back to the Phoenix Palace, removing her outer garments one by one to reveal the white mourning clothes beneath.
Facing the bronze mirror, the woman tidied her attire, smiling gently at her reflection and speaking in an exceedingly tender voice: “Brother Han, now your throne is gone, all the women of your harem have abandoned you, and you have nothing left. You have only me. In this world, only I, Qin Buyao, am willing to die with you. When we reach the netherworld, there will be only me by your side—hehe… hehehe…”
After saying this, she took out the poison hidden in her sleeve and drank it down in one gulp.
At the same time, the fallen Yan Mohan in prison also swallowed poison.
They died almost at the same moment—one in disgrace, the other in splendor.
She abandoned supreme status and glory to die on the same day as him, when he had been forsaken by all.
Witnessing everything, Yan Mohan’s face was filled with shock. His body swayed unsteadily before he collapsed to his knees with a thud.
The final scene froze on Qin Buyao after she finished the poison, collapsed on the ground, blood flowing from her mouth and nose, her face deathly pale—just like the mourning clothes she wore.
No… how could it be like this?
How could the truth be like this?
This was impossible!
Yan Mohan felt his qi and blood churn violently. Then, with a sudden jolt, he woke from the dream, the breath he had held for so long bursting out with a mouthful of fresh blood.
Gasping harshly, Yan Mohan gripped the edge of the bed with both hands.
This was just a dream. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real!
