Li Qingxun swiftly set her plans into motion.
The fifty-some members of the marriage alliance entourage became the sharp "blades" in her hands. Step by step, she subdued the surrounding barbarian tribes—training soldiers, forging weapons, and expanding her territory.
Her forces gradually grew stronger.
In less than five years, she had conquered nearly a hundred tribes and declared herself ruler. Once her power stabilized, she launched an attack on the Yelang Kingdom. Relying on overwhelming military might and strategic propaganda, the corrupt Yelang dynasty eventually crumbled and was absorbed into her domain.
Li Qingxun personally led her army into the imperial capital of Yelang, where she came face-to-face with the kingdom’s white-haired emperor.
What was the point of being sent to Yelang as a bride?
Far better to conquer it outright.
The old emperor hurled curses at her, but with a swift strike of her blade, his reign ended. Li Qingxun ascended the throne, and a new Southern Chu Kingdom was born.
After its founding, Li Qingxun focused on external conquests while Zhang He'an managed internal affairs. Their formidable partnership ensured that within two years, Southern Chu’s stability was firmly secured.
The kingdom’s borders expanded to the edges of Qing State, separated only by a single river.
By then, the ruler of Qing State was none other than the former third prince, Li Ang.
When news reached him of Li Qingxun’s ascension, Li Ang was struck speechless. Never had he imagined that his sixth younger sister possessed such capability and ambition.
Beyond shock, unease crept in. After all, Qing State had once sent her away for a political marriage. What if she bore resentment and turned her armies against them? War could erupt anew.
After much deliberation, Li Ang drafted a diplomatic letter, cautiously probing her intentions.
By then, Southern Chu’s affairs were fully settled. Li Qingxun had ceased her campaigns, shifting focus to mining resources. When Qing State’s letter arrived, she returned to the palace that night to discuss it with Zhang He'an.
"Do you think he’s afraid I’ll attack Qing State?" she asked.
Zhang He'an combed her hair gently. "And do you wish to, Ah-Xun?"
Li Qingxun pondered, then sighed regretfully. "Qing State is stable—strong armies, thriving people, and close ties with Yue Kingdom. If I force a war, my chances of victory are slim."
Better not to fight.
She was, after all, a lover of peace.
"Ah, come rub my shoulders," she groaned, rolling her stiff neck. Years of campaigning had taken a toll on her body.
Zhang He'an obliged patiently.
The Chang Le Palace glowed warmly in the quiet spring night, the air humming with insects. Gazing at Zhang He'an’s reflection in the silver mirror, Li Qingxun marveled—after nearly a decade, time had only refined his beauty, like a fine wine growing richer with age.
Her heart itched with desire.
Turning, she hooked her arms around Zhang He'an’s slender neck and kissed him, effortlessly relocating their activities to the bed, where passion consumed them.
...
Another half-year passed before Li Qingxun sent letters to the rulers of Qing State and Yue Kingdom, cordially inviting them to a "Tri-National Summit and Trade Conference."
Southern Chu boasted abundant resources—gold, silver, and precious gems. Qing State thrived in commerce and grain production, while Yue Kingdom excelled in cotton and livestock.
Li Qingxun, now engrossed in crafting new instruments, needed materials from both nations. Establishing trade was the most efficient solution.
The letters were dispatched.
Both Tuoba Yu of Yue Kingdom and Li Ang of Qing State agreed. With the three powers now in a delicate balance, peace was the wisest path forward.
The meeting was set in Mingzhou, a small, neutral territory at the intersection of their borders, devoid of local governance. Soldiers secured the area well in advance, ensuring the rulers’ safety.
A decade later, Li Qingxun reunited with Li Ang and Tuoba Yu.
She greeted Li Ang with a smile. "Third Brother, it’s been a while."
Li Ang, torn between delight and wariness, forced a cordial nod. "Sixth Sister, indeed it has."
Tuoba Yu studied Li Qingxun.
He remembered her from Liangzhou City—a young woman with earnest eyes, reciting poetry that spoke of compassion and duty. She had rejected his proposal, choosing sovereignty over submission.
A pang of regret flickered in him.
The three monarchs, all ambitious and clear-minded, spent three days negotiating before finalizing their treaty.
That evening, a grand banquet commenced. Li Ang spotted Zhang He'an after years apart.
Seated beside Li Qingxun, Zhang He'an quietly replaced her wine with sobering tea as she drank heavily. Observing this, Li Ang couldn’t help but marvel.
Rumors swirled that the Southern Chu Empress had forcibly wed Qing State’s former Prime Minister, imprisoning him in her harem.
But Li Ang knew better.
No one could coerce Zhang He'an.
His presence here was by choice.
By the banquet’s end, Li Qingxun was thoroughly drunk. Hiccuping, she called out to Tuoba Yu and Li Ang. "Wait—I’ve something to say..."
The two paused.
Slurring, Li Qingxun declared, "My Southern Chu harem is empty. If either of you are interested, join me. I’ll treat you well... Heh. Zhang He'an, that dog, won’t let me take new lovers. Well, I’ll have my way—why not make emperors my consorts?"
Tuoba Yu: "..."
Li Ang: "..."
Tuoba Yu gazed at her. Had he not been a ruler himself, he might have considered it. Women were plentiful, but one like Li Qingxun—bold, extraordinary—was a rarity.
Zhang He'an’s face darkened as he hauled the incoherent Li Qingxun away.
The next morning, she awoke with a splitting headache. Groaning, she pressed her temples and called out habitually, "Zhang He'an, fetch me warm water."
No answer came.
Instead, a quick-witted maid entered with a cup. "Your Majesty, here you are."
Puzzled, Li Qingxun asked, "Where’s Zhang He'an?"
The maid bowed her head. "Last night, he escorted you to bed... then retired to the study alone."
Li Qingxun blinked.
They always shared a bed, waking to each other’s faces. Since when did he sleep elsewhere?
Brushing it off as work demands, she drank the water and ate breakfast.
After overseeing preparations for their return to Southern Chu, she realized Zhang He'an still hadn’t appeared. A flicker of unease stirred.
She went to the study.
There, Zhang He'an sat in a deep-red robe, his hair loosely tied with a wooden pin. The candlelight illuminated his poised calligraphy as incense curled elegantly from a bronze burner.
Leaning against a pillar, Li Qingxun admired him—a living painting, timeless and captivating.
Clearing her throat, she approached his desk. "What kept you busy today?"
Zhang He'an paused his brushstroke, slowly raising his head. His obsidian-dark eyes held a sorrow Li Qingxun couldn’t decipher.
Li Qingxun felt as if a knife had lightly pierced her heart.
She asked, "Don’t look at me like that... Ugh, what’s wrong? Did Qing State pressure you to go back?"
Zhang He'an shook his head slowly.
He set down the brush and suddenly asked in a quiet voice, "A-Xun, have you grown tired of me?"
Li Qingxun froze.
She leaned closer to him, baffled. "Stop talking nonsense—when have I ever tired of you? Ah, Zhang He'an, don’t look at me like that! You’re making me seem like some heartless scoundrel."
Zhang He'an lowered his gaze.
He looked utterly miserable, like a pitiful soul who had thrown himself into love only to be abandoned by his beloved.
Li Qingxun racked her brain, trying to recall what she might have done wrong these past few days to make Zhang He'an overthink like this—then it hit her. Last night, drunk out of her mind, she had rambled about taking the emperors of Yue Kingdom and Qing State as her consorts...
Li Qingxun cursed inwardly.
Alcohol was truly a curse!
She grabbed Zhang He'an’s hand, attempting to soothe his irrational worries. "Stop overthinking! I was just spouting nonsense! Drunken words can’t be taken seriously. Besides, Tuoba Yu and Li Ang are both in their thirties—old and ugly! Why would I ever fancy such aged jerky?"
Zhang He'an said, "I’m thirty-five this year too."
Li Qingxun’s head throbbed. She had no idea how to comfort a jealous man. All she could do was tug at his sleeve and mutter, "That’s not what I meant! Zhang He'an, snap out of it! Quit playing the victim—I’m not falling for that trick."
Zhang He'an pulled his sleeve free. "Then go find yourself a younger man."
His tone dripped with resentment, like a scorned wife.
Li Qingxun: "..."
At a loss, she simply yanked him by the collar and silenced him with her lips.
Zhang He'an wrapped an arm around her waist, responding slowly.
Before long, the study became a battlefield, the candles in the palace lanterns burning late into the night.
As the old saying goes, marital quarrels are settled between the sheets—a truth as timeless as the ages.
The next day, on their journey back to Southern Chu Kingdom, Li Qingxun lay sprawled in the carriage, aching all over, while Zhang He'an patiently massaged her waist and legs. Belatedly, she cracked an eye open. "Were you just pretending to be pitiful last night?"
Zhang He'an continued kneading her muscles, hiding a smile. "No."
The carriage rolled southward.
Zhang He'an took her hand and murmured, "A-Xun, promise me you’ll never leave me. Will you?"
Li Qingxun squinted. "We’ll see. I might die before you."
...
Little did she know, her offhand remark would become a grim prophecy.
Not long after their return to Southern Chu Kingdom, Li Qingxun suddenly fell gravely ill. Years of campaigning in barbarian tribes had exposed her to toxic miasma, the poison accumulating in her body until it erupted after she turned thirty.
Her health began to decline.
Death held no fear for Li Qingxun. Everyone dies—she was no exception.
Maybe she’d get lucky and return to the modern world after death.
After founding Southern Chu Kingdom, she had worked to develop its resources, like petroleum, hoping to build a modern civilization within this feudal dynasty. But the primitive technology proved too limiting—even with her knowledge, she couldn’t manufacture something as simple as a plastic bag.
Li Qingxun calmly prepared for her own end, but Zhang He'an’s obsession spiraled out of control.
He refused to accept her departure, exhausting every means to save her.
Prayers to gods, divinations from ancient texts, quests for elixirs—he tried them all.
Yet Li Qingxun continued to wither.
At thirty-five, she succumbed to illness.
The kingdom mourned.