Female Consort Chapter 57: Old Dreams

In the eighth month of autumn, with the cold dew settling in.

When the emperor's summons arrived, Qiu Che was still in the study of the Qiu residence, drafting a memorial.

By this time, it had been six years since Li Qingwu left the capital, and over two years since the death of Madam Wang.

The major factions within the court were locked in a delicate balance of power, and the struggle for influence had escalated into a fierce, heated conflict.

As a young official from a rising faction, Qiu Che, after careful deliberation, chose to side with the emperor.

So, when it was reported that "Qiu Che" had forced a young woman from a respectable family, causing her to miscarry and, unable to conceive again, hang herself, the emperor was thoroughly troubled.

After all, in the eyes of outsiders, Qiu Che was still the imperial son-in-law, married to the emperor’s most beloved daughter.

For such a scandal to erupt now, resulting in two deaths, it could not simply be overlooked.

Qiu Che was brought to the grand hall of the Court of Judicial Review, where the emperor and several esteemed senior ministers sat before her, interrogating her as if in a tribunal, asking if she had committed such an act.

At first, Qiu Che was bewildered. Upon hearing that the family of the innocent woman had beaten drums to bring the accusation, and that rumors had spread overnight, she finally understood.

The woman must have mistaken her for someone else, and the suicide note left behind pointed to Qiu Che as the perpetrator.

In the past, Qiu Che had made her share of mistakes, but she always knew to cover her tracks, visiting brothels without letting others know. But this time, for some inexplicable reason, she had dared to force an innocent woman from a respectable family.

Upon learning the details of the events, Qiu Che also discovered that it was Qiu Zhe who had provided an alibi for her, claiming that she had not been in the Qiu residence that day. Since she had not lived in the princess’s residence for a long time, and had no other properties, where else could she have gone?

Qiu Zhe’s words implied something, and the people in the Qiu residence, influenced by Qiu Chudong, all followed him in lying.

Even her personal maid, Yun Yan, swore she had not seen Qiu Che that night.

This was, without a doubt, the most damning evidence against Qiu Che.

She knelt before the tribunal, fists clenched beneath her sleeves, wanting to defend herself, wanting to refute the accusations. But no matter how she tried, the only words she could say were, "I have never done such a thing. Heaven and Earth can bear witness, my conscience is clear."

But she had no evidence to prove her innocence.

The emperor seemed to want to believe her, to let the matter slide, but Prime Minister Wu was unconvinced. Smiling slyly, he suggested, "Perhaps we should have a palace servant verify her identity?"

In the suicide note, the woman described her assailant as having a scar on the inner thigh, a mark from a childhood injury when Qiu Zhe had been scraped by a sharp saddle while riding.

But Qiu Che had no such scar.

She could not allow anyone to verify her body, doing so would reveal her true identity as a woman.

Disguising herself as a man and deceiving the emperor was a far more serious crime than violating a virtuous woman.

Qiu Che fell silent, ceasing her attempts at explanation.

Seeing her resistance, the emperor, though inwardly convinced of her guilt, still wished to avoid turning the matter into a certainty. When Prime Minister Wu taunted her, "Could it be that everything you said was a lie?" the emperor rose, flicked his sleeve, and left the room, bypassing the verification step. He ordered her to be taken directly to the imperial prison.

The imperial prison, unlike the Court of Judicial Review, was under the control of the Imperial Guard, the emperor's secret police, who answered only to the emperor.

If the emperor wished to release her, it would be a simple matter of command, but that depended on whether she still held any value to him.

In the power struggles of politics, there was no such thing as right or wrong, only the pursuit of personal gain.

Qiu Che breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

The young officer assigned to interrogate her at the Imperial Guard was a hot-headed fool. The emperor had casually ordered an interrogation, and the officer took it as a directive to punish her severely.

In the imperial prison, such punishments were routine for those directly brought in by the emperor.

And yet, this time, Qiu Che was someone the emperor was still uncertain about, someone he might want to protect amid the swirling rumors.

The officer's diligence turned into a mistake.

That night, as Qiu Che was whipped to the brink of death, she was saved by Liu Buxiu, who arrived too late.

Liu scolded the young officer, and upon seeing Qiu Che’s bloodied, torn clothes, fell silent for a moment before waving his hand to have her taken away and given new clothes.

It was then that Qiu Che's true gender was revealed.

Seeing her in such a condition, still able to strike an Imperial Guard officer with all her strength, Liu frowned and came over again.

He heard another officer, holding his arm, speak with a strange expression: "This... this person... she... binds her chest?"

Liu froze for a moment, then waved his hand, signaling everyone to leave.

Qiu Che knew he had figured out her true identity. They exchanged some tentative words, and Qiu Che noticed a shift in his attitude, different from before.

Eventually, Liu spoke, his voice heavy: "To be honest... my wife, when she was still alive, ran a business as a common woman. She was tainted, and unable to bear the surrounding gossip, she drowned herself in a river."

But the scoundrel who ruined his wife’s life had vanished without a trace.

It was because of this event that Liu Buxiu, once young and strong, had abandoned his military ambitions and joined the Imperial Guard.

Years later, as a high-ranking official of the Imperial Guard, he finally tracked down the man who had ruined his wife’s life.

"...And in the end?" Qiu Che asked softly.

Liu smiled grimly, the bitterness clear in his eyes: "I cut off his genitals, piece by piece, torturing him for three months. After three months, he died, unrecognizable."

Qiu Che took a slow breath and closed her eyes, her voice low: "You should have made him kneel at her grave and die, so she could see the outcome of her enemy."

Liu sighed. "I know."

"At first, I thought the same," he said softly.

"But I didn’t want his blood to stain her path to the afterlife."

In the end, Liu brought her a fresh set of clothes.

The burly man, his eyes filled with a strange sadness, spoke with unusual calmness.

"I think I understand your suffering now. Don’t worry, no one will speak of today’s events."

Beyond that, he couldn't do more for Qiu Che.

Qiu Che turned to look at him, her tone still cold: "You, the powerful head of the Imperial Guard, what reason do you have to help me?"

Liu smiled bitterly. "No reason."

He paused for a moment, before continuing: "I just wanted to see if what I told my wife years ago was true, that women, like men, are people, and they should be able to do what they want."

"At the end of the day, I don't think it was me or my wife who was wrong. It was this cursed world."

After Liu left, Qiu Che remained in the dim light of her prison, slowly collecting herself as she remembered what Liu had said to his wife.

"Women and men are both human. Why can't they do what they want?"

With those words, he had supported his wife, who, in the second year afterward, had been forcibly ruined.

In her third year of marriage, unable to endure the rumors, she left him forever.

After a long while, in the dark, cold prison, Qiu Che sat on the bed, reaching for the clothes that had been left beside her.

She shook her head, thinking: Me?

She feared she would disappoint Liu Buxiu.

Now, she was like a clay Buddha crossing the river, unable to save herself.

After spending more than a month in the imperial prison, the emperor never called for her again.

Her wounds had scabbed over, and from that day onward, the guards in the prison treated her with far more courtesy, although they still restricted her movements. No one dared to torture her again.

Soon after, Liu Buxiu came to see her. With a complex expression, he ordered the lock to be opened and said, "Someone has spoken in your favor before the emperor."

Qiu Che asked, "Who?"

Liu did not answer, only shaking his head.

It was unclear whether he didn’t know or was simply unable to say.

Qiu Che silently followed the Imperial Guard officers as they led her out of the prison where she had been confined for over a month.

When she was released, there was no sign of anyone from the Qiu family outside. Instead, a carriage was waiting.

Qiu Che assumed it was Liu Buxiu who had arranged it, and turned to thank him sincerely. Had it not been for his influence, her time in the prison would have been far more painful.

Liu waved his hand, saying, "Lord Qiu, we’ll meet again."

Qiu Che bowed, lifted her robes, and climbed into the carriage.

Once back at the Qiu residence, she learned that it had been Qiu Zhe who had been tested, confirming that he was the one who had forced the woman, clearing her of the accusations. The emperor had let the matter go without much mention.

To appease public anger, the emperor had Qiu Zhe given fifty lashes and banned him and his descendants from the imperial examinations for life, finally bringing the matter to a close.

Qiu Che never discovered who had spoken in her defense that day, or who had exposed Qiu Zhe’s guilt to the world.

Just like how she didn’t know that, in the name of Qiu Che, Qiu Zhe had caused a death, and when Qiu Che was forced into prison with no way to argue, the Qiu family did everything they could to distance themselves from it.

It was Li Qingwu, hearing the news, who knew she couldn’t have done such a thing. Even if she wanted to, as a woman, how could she tarnish another young lady’s innocence?

So, she hurried back, traveling across thousands of miles through dust and fatigue. As the Qiu family, in an effort to clear their name, even considered announcing their complete disassociation from Qiu Che, Li Qingwu used the money she had earned over the years to help where she could. She went without sleep for several days and even sought an audience with His Majesty.

Li Qingwu, in this life, had no political instincts. She didn’t know that the Emperor was also trying to save Qiu Che, but she did know that Qiu Che’s reputation was in ruins and her life was at risk.

She overheard people discussing that once someone entered the Imperial Prison, the chances of release were slim.

Adding to that, the Emperor had long harbored a grudge against her for willingly marrying Qiu Che years ago, and now, seeing her involved in the mess, he refused to even acknowledge her presence.

Li Qingwu was turned away twice and was unable to meet the Emperor. Finally, she took out the death exemption token the Emperor had given her when she was fifteen, granted as a mark of her status as the eldest princess.

Without hesitation, she used it now, just to ask the Emperor for one more chance, for Qiu Che’s life.

For this, the Emperor grew to despise her.

He found a convenient excuse to have her punished with thirty lashes for an imperial princess daring to enter the palace uninvited.

Later, spurred by the Empress’s gossip and her jealousy over Li Qingwu’s thriving business in the Jiangnan region, the Emperor took eight parts of the profits from Li Qingwu’s business.

Only then did he reluctantly order Qiu Che’s release from the Imperial Prison.

Yet, the Qiu family remained silent about it.

So, Qiu Che only knew that his wife had come back when he was imprisoned, but she quickly returned to Jiangnan.

He thought it was simply because she had heard of his troubles and came back to check on him, never once questioning it deeply.

Now, from an outsider’s perspective, she watched as Li Qingwu limped out of the palace, then, after climbing into a carriage, followed Liu Buxiu, who was delivering the Imperial decree, to the Imperial Prison.

But she only stood in the corner, watching as Qiu Che was safely brought out, and she saw him get into the carriage, a relieved expression on his face.

From start to finish, there was no intention to meet Qiu Che.

After a long while, when the gentle voice of Fu Feng inquired, Li Qingwu lowered the curtain and said, “Let’s go.”

At that moment, neither she nor Qiu Che realized that this was, in fact, the last time Li Qingwu would ever see her.

The first two times Li Qingwu returned to the capital, once for Qiu Che’s birthday and once when he was imprisoned, she arrived too late.

Luckily, both times it wasn’t a matter of life or death.

But the third time, it was a final parting.

Ten years later, when Qiu Che had risen to the position of Prime Minister, Li Qingwu hurried back, originally to attend a banquet and offer congratulations, only to find herself facing the task of gathering the dead, 

When “Qiu Che” greeted her with a beaming smile, calling her “wife,” Li Qingwu immediately felt something was off.

She had missed the man she had dreamt of for ten years, but she knew he would never smile at her like that.

He wouldn’t gaze at her with such affection and call her “wife” with that look.

Li Qingwu always knew that Qiu Che had a butterfly-shaped birthmark on his wrist.

But when Qiu Che was impersonated by Qiu Zhe, every gesture and movement was done intentionally to mimic Qiu Che. Even a nearly identical butterfly scar was tattooed on the wrist.

Those who weren’t familiar with Qiu Che might have been deceived.

This was the confidence Qiu Zhe had in impersonating Qiu Che.

To replace Qiu Che, he and Qiu Chudong had planned this grand performance since Qiu Zhe was banned from the imperial examinations for forcing a respectable woman four years ago.

To replace Qiu Che, he secretly studied Qiu Che for four years and laid low, all for this moment.

Although Li Qingwu was Qiu Che’s wife, they had been apart for ten years, and it was hard to say if she would recognize him.

What finally confirmed for Li Qingwu that this wasn’t Qiu Che was the wooden comb.

She knew something was wrong and politely rejected Qiu Che’s enthusiastic invitation to “reminisce” in bed, claiming that she was exhausted from her long journey and suggested they talk once she had removed her makeup.

Qiu Zhe, not in a hurry, perhaps fearing she would discover something, held back his desire.

Li Qingwu sat at the vanity table, deliberately pulling out the old wooden comb from the bottom of her bundle and began to comb her hair. Qiu Zhe casually asked, “Why are you using such an old comb?”

Li Qingwu paused, pretending to casually bring up their wedding night and asked him, “Don’t you remember, my husband? You gave me this comb that night.”

“You said, when a husband gives his wife a comb, it means we’ll grow old together, side by side.”

Li Qingwu lowered her eyes, stroking the comb gently, and murmured, “Lehe has always kept it well, unwilling to part with it.”

Qiu Che, not knowing about this, could only laugh awkwardly, “Is that so? I remember. Of course, I remember…”

But as soon as those words left his mouth, Li Qingwu was certain.

He wasn’t Qiu Che.

It was all a lie she had created, even the comb, which she had secretly hidden away.

The promise of growing old together, of being side by side... Qiu Che had never said anything like that.

Li Qingwu didn’t speak again.

Still wearing that tender smile, she slowly lifted her hand, removing her hairpins and unmasking herself.

But because she pressed too hard, her fingers turned white, and she accidentally snapped the old wooden comb.

As the broken comb fell to the floor, she smiled lightly, saying, “It’s fine,” as she bent down to pick it up, lost in thought.

Her cherished possession, kept for ten years, was now gone, just like the old days.

She had once thought that combing her hair would bring about a life as the songs of joy described, “A couple, side by side, growing old.”

But she never got to experience that.

Li Qingwu knew she had come too late.

She arrived too late for a banquet without the one she once knew.

When she found Qiu Che’s remains, the first thing Li Qingwu saw was the jade pendant tied to Qiu Che’s waist.

The lotus pattern began to bloom under the moonlight, shimmering brightly.

When they were young, Li Qingwu had said, “I’ll come and find you,” and Qiu Che had really worn this pendant, waiting for her for over a decade.

Maybe Qiu Che had already forgotten the moonlit night when they made a promise, crossing paths in that narrow street.

But Li Qingwu had always kept her word and never discarded the pendant.

Sadly, Qiu Che never became the finest carpenter in the capital, as he had hoped in his youth.

Li Qingwu also never escaped the confines of the palace, nor the judgment of the world.

She was still a pawn in the Emperor’s hand.

But now, she had become a pawn not in a game of hearts but one of wealth, her shackles were the name “Qiu Zhe.”

At that moment, Li Qingwu felt that perhaps they had both already died.

They died eleven years ago, on that fateful night when they first met.

They died amidst power, human emotions, and suffocating familial obligations.

In this short life, they seemed to be mere sacrifices to fate’s cruel joke.

Li Qingwu did not shed a single tear.

She quietly collected Qiu Che’s remains, then calmly rejected Qiu Zhe’s request to sleep with her, locking him outside.

Later, in the dead of night, she rose, dressed herself, and left the room, locking the door behind her.

Just like the dream Qiu Che had once had, she carried his remains on her back and took the sword he had practiced with in his study, walking toward the burning mansion of the government, one step at a time, into the wilderness.

She was walking toward her own end.

Qiu Che always thought she had committed suicide by stabbing herself with the sword.

But she was actually dying for love.

In her daze, Li Qingwu felt the cold body temperature behind her, and she looked up at the bright moon above, just as it had been on the night of the Lantern Festival.

It felt as if she could still hear the words Yao Tai had once said to her when she first married Qiu Che.

“I can tell your fortune, I’ve seen your future, and you’ll live a lifetime of happiness and peace.”

Li Qingwu didn’t answer back then.

But in truth, she had believed it.

She had waited for a prophecy that felt like a joke, not knowing if she was waiting for her own obsession or something else… just waiting for ten years.

In the first three years, she wondered if happiness was even possible.

In the last three years, she had thought, maybe not seeking happiness was fine, as long as Qiu Che was safe and free.

But now, under the moonlight, with the cool breeze, she thought: So Yao Tai had lied to her.

She couldn’t predict the future.

They didn’t have a lifetime of happiness, nor a lifetime of peace.

And now, they don't even have a future.