Here’s the text with all highlights and italics removed:
The curve of Di Ronghua’s lips deepened slightly. “Indeed, I may not have much credibility, but this time, I’m truly not deceiving you.”
Xiao Hanjin stared at her for a few seconds, his thin lips slowly uttering a single word, “Fine.”
The crowd was stunned.
Mu Qingshuang’s entire body stiffened.
These two had completely disregarded her.
They were discussing her life and death, yet it felt as though they were talking about something entirely unrelated to her.
Mu Qingshuang’s blood seemed to flow backwards through her veins. Watching the man turn and walk towards her, her eyes widened, and she let out an almost uncontrollable scream, “Xiao Hanjin, what have I done wrong for you to treat me like this?”
The man remained silent.
Her eyes suddenly reddened. “She disappeared for four years and now suddenly returns—haven’t you ever wondered what she’s come back to do?”
Xiao Hanjin’s steps faltered, stopping in front of her.
In that brief silence, a glimmer of hope flashed in the woman’s eyes.
She knew she had committed unforgivable acts, but she didn’t believe this man would act against her without knowing the reasons.
Yet, in the next second, an immense force gripped her neck.
Mu Qingshuang’s breath caught, her entire face rapidly turning pale. She looked at him in disbelief, only to meet his gaze—whether it was mockery or self-derision, she couldn’t tell. His indifferent voice sounded cold and ruthless. “As long as she’s back, I don’t care what she intends to do.”
Her body shuddered violently.
“Cough, cough cough…”
Her face grew redder, tears welling up in her eyes from the sheer physical strain. “Di Ronghua, you… tell him to let go—do it yourself!”
Di Ronghua watched the scene impassively. At her words, she slowly walked over, her lips curling into a smile. “Xiao Hanjin, if you use so much force, what if she dies before she even feels the pain? That’d be a shame.”
The man’s gaze darkened slightly, and the strength in his hand eased a fraction.
A wave of intense despair surged in Mu Qingshuang’s heart.
Only then did she notice that Di Ronghua was once again clad in a red robe—the exact same one she’d worn four years ago during that rain of arrows and slaughter.
Back then, Mu Qingshuang had stood above, looking down. Now, her throat was in a vice grip!
Outside the palace gates stood all the archers who had once fired that deadly volley. But today, they were dressed in prison garb, arrows aimed at them!
The situation had flipped entirely.
This woman had returned for revenge. Mu Qingshuang had long suspected it, but never had it been clearer than in this moment.
Tears streamed down Mu Qingshuang’s face as she rasped, “You… do it… yourself…”
“No can do,” came the cool reply, tinged with a faint laugh. Di Ronghua’s eyes curved with amusement. “Though I’d quite like to finish you off myself, having the man you love to madness do it seems to make you suffer more.”
Hearing Di Ronghua’s casual tone, Mu Qingshuang’s heart twisted with hatred so fierce it contorted her face.
Back then, she’d only shot her with a single arrow. Di Ronghua was still alive, wasn’t she? How could she be this cruel?
To have the man she loved most kill her without reason…
“Ah… ah!”
Her screams were raw, torn from her chest—frenzied, despairing, and filled with pained unwillingness.
Di Ronghua watched as she teetered on the brink of death, then suddenly shot a glance at the man outside the palace gates.
Feng Hua met her gaze and nodded. The paused arrows in his hands suddenly flew forth in unison!
Screams erupted, sharp and ceaseless!
Outside the gates, those in prison garb fell one by one, blood spreading out like a scene from a hellish purgatory.
The guards, witnessing this bloody massacre, were so shocked they couldn’t utter a word.
The coldness in Di Ronghua’s eyes grew even deeper.
Back then, because of her, twenty-three innocent commoners had died in that rain of arrows.
The lives of these assassins were worthless, but beyond that, she had nothing else to offer as a tribute to those innocent souls.
She could only hope that from now on, the departed might rest in peace.
Mu Qingshuang was dead.
In her final moments, Di Ronghua had used the same voodoo poison from years ago on her. Letting her die by strangulation would’ve been too lenient.
But the massacre at the palace gates quickly reached the ears of the court officials.
Several ministers immediately requested an audience at the palace.
Xiao Hanjin watched the woman in the room quietly washing her hands. Only after she finished and wiped them clean did he speak in a low voice, “Can you tell me now?”
Di Ronghua glanced at him. “What’s the rush? It’s not a big deal.”
Xiao Hanjin’s gaze darkened abruptly.
The woman blinked. “Why such a big reaction? Is it because you regret nearly killing Mu Qingshuang?” She smiled. “Too late for that, though. Miss Mu is probably already on her way to reincarnation.”
“Di Ronghua,” he said, his face expressionless as he looked at her. “You can blame me or resent me, but you know full well it’s not because of her.”
Di Ronghua met his serious, stern gaze, the curve of her lips fading slightly.
“Jumping off the cliff was a ruse. Xiao Jiu caught me.”
She shifted her gaze away, speaking faintly, “The day you returned to the palace, Mu Qingshuang found me. Those people outside were her accomplices. In the chaos of arrows, they killed twenty-three commoners. Not a single person who died today was innocent.”
Only then did she meet his dark, fathomless eyes again. “As for me, I was poisoned a bit and fell into a coma for a while. That’s all.”
She spoke lightly, her expression showing no trace of emotion.
But every word landed like a thunderclap, shaking Xiao Hanjin to his core.
His pupils contracted sharply, darkening several shades. His distinct, bony hand had unconsciously gripped her wrist, squeezing tightly. “What poison was it… How long were you unconscious? Four years?”
Di Ronghua could even feel his hand trembling with stiffness. “It’s not important. It’s all in the past.”
“You said you’d tell me everything.”
She closed her eyes and let out a soft laugh. “I don’t know what poison it was. The one I just used on Mu Qingshuang was the same—probably something she concocted herself. If you really want to know, test it yourself.”
Xiao Hanjin flinched slightly.
Though he hadn’t paid attention to the poison at the time, he’d clearly seen how much agony Mu Qingshuang had endured before dying.
She had… gone through that too?
“Ronghua.” The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed repeatedly.
He had so many questions—how she’d given birth to Jiangjiang while poisoned, how she’d detoxified herself, how she’d escaped back then—but all the words caught in his throat.
Even without asking, he knew how hard these years must have been for her.
He closed his eyes briefly. “I’ll…”
“No need.”
Before he could finish, Di Ronghua cut him off.
His pupils shrank slightly.
She was so clever, so perceptive—she knew exactly what he was about to say.
And she was so decisive, so unyielding, shattering his foolish hopes before he could even voice them.
The grip on her wrist tightened unconsciously. Di Ronghua glanced at it and gave him a faint smile. “Though this all started because of you, you weren’t the one who harmed me. I’ve already used you to take my revenge, so we’re even. You don’t need to carry any burden over it.”
No, he owed her so much—how could they possibly be even?
And being even wasn’t what he wanted.
“Ronghua, I won’t break you and that man apart.”
He didn’t know how much effort it took to force those words out.
Di Ronghua’s expression shifted slightly.
Xiao Hanjin stared at her unwaveringly. “Don’t leave. Stay in the palace like you have these past few days, and let me take care of your health.” He fell silent for a long moment, as if making a promise. “I absolutely won’t stand in the way of you being together, alright?”
This was perhaps the greatest concession Xiao Hanjin could offer.
Even… a humbling one.
A flicker passed through Di Ronghua’s eyes. “No.”
“Ronghua…”
“I do blame you,” she interrupted him coldly and calmly. “Though you didn’t directly harm me, I hold it against you in my heart.”
The man’s pupils shrank again.
Di Ronghua tilted her head up, smiling at him. “If you hadn’t brought me back to Beixi to save her, if you hadn’t told her about my blood relation to her, if you hadn’t…”
A sharp glint of coldness flashed through her eyes, but she quickly closed them, suppressing it. “So I don’t want to see you anymore. I’m living well now. If you feel even the slightest guilt towards me, don’t force me to stay like you did four years ago, alright?”
No.
He wanted to shake his head, but meeting her clear, shallow gaze, it felt as if a piece of his heart had been gouged out. The pain was excruciating, yet it left him numb and bitter.
He couldn’t bring himself to say that word.
“I understand.”
When Di Ronghua and Feng Hua left the palace, they encountered Fan Jiang.
Fan Jiang’s smile was somewhat forced. “Princess, are you leaving?”
“Yes, until we meet again, if fate allows.”
Di Ronghua waved casually. Fan Jiang watched her retreating figure—carefree yet resolute—as if this departure meant she’d never return.
Suddenly, he couldn’t hold back and rushed forward. “Princess!”
Di Ronghua turned back, surprised. “What’s wrong?”
“I… I have a few words I’d like to say!”
“Go ahead,” she said with an amused nod.
“Back then…” Fan Jiang gritted his teeth. “Back then, though His Majesty made some mistakes, he never intended to harm you.”
Di Ronghua’s smile stiffened.
Fan Jiang hurriedly pressed on. “Though His Majesty initially approached you because he discovered your connection to Mu Qingshuang, and he didn’t lose his memory upon returning to Beixi, he later genuinely wanted to marry you. What you overheard from Mu Qingshuang wasn’t the truth.”
“I’m tormented by this illness every day until I barely resemble a human. Why haven’t you acted against her yet? Is it just because… she’s pregnant?”
“Who’d have thought, in the end, the one who could save my life would be her…”
“His Majesty wanted to cure her illness because he felt responsible. He considered the blood transfusion method, but he never intended to use you to save her. He only instructed the imperial physicians to search for a suitable blood source outside the palace.”
Di Ronghua closed her eyes briefly. “Then why did Mu Qingshuang say those things?”
“At the time, only I and another of His Majesty’s close confidants knew about your relation to her. That confidant liked Mu Qingshuang and wanted her to live, so he deliberately twisted some facts and prompted her to question His Majesty. He thought His Majesty might waver, but at that moment, His Majesty was only worried you’d find out. He asked Mu Qingshuang who else she’d mentioned it to—and that’s when you overheard.”
It wasn’t a lack of love, just a realisation that came too late.
From the moment he fell in love, that flawed beginning became a secret knot in his heart—one he could only bury deep and conceal.
But he never imagined it would one day be exploited.
