Before long, Cheng Yao hurried over, dressed in her nightclothes.
“You’re awake?”
Had he become suspicious?
Cheng Yao studied him carefully. “Are you hungry?”
Zhan Haoting lay there with his eyes half-closed, groaning softly instead of answering. He muttered, “Didn’t you light a fire? Why can’t I see anything?”
“The guards won’t allow fires,” Cheng Yao said. She reached out to feel his forehead, and the heat startled her. “Husband, you have a fever.”
Zhan Haoting did not respond. He merely murmured, “So many bats…”
He really had burned himself senseless.
With a sharp chop of her hand, she struck the major artery on the left side of his neck. Knocking him out before treating him would save a lot of trouble.
A burst of pain hit him. Zhan Haoting’s pupils contracted sharply, and his head lolled to one side as he passed out.
Cheng Yao went inside and changed into coarse cotton clothes before returning. She moved him onto the bed, wiped him down, gave him an injection, and fed him medicine.
His injuries had improved considerably. In a few more days, he would be able to move his limbs slowly.
Then he would not have to suffer so much.
After she finished tending to him, she prepared some liquid food and fed it to him.
Only after taking a sip of water herself and finally sitting down to rest did she remember something very important. Her breathing immediately quickened, and her eyes lit up.
Before being exiled, she had not touched the imperial treasury. For one thing, she had not wanted the bastard emperor to become suspicious; for another, she had feared that the city gates would be sealed and searched, leaving them unable to escape.
But holding herself back until now had already been her limit. She could hardly wait to dig into the “feast” that belonged to her!
Cheng Yao focused with all her might, picturing the immense ironwood doors of the imperial treasury, covered in seals, and the almost tangible, suffocating aura of wealth behind them.
Then her vision suddenly went black. A dizzying sensation of weightlessness seized her, as though she had been hurled into a violent storm.
The distance was a little too great. Spatial teleportation took more effort over such a range, which was why the backlash was so severe. Nausea surged up her throat.
The next moment, solid ground met her feet.
The icy dampness vanished, replaced by an exquisitely soft, warm sensation that nearly made her tremble. The air filled her lungs—metal, old wood, and a faint trace of mildew.
It was the scent of money.
She staggered and hurriedly braced herself against something nearby. When she opened her eyes—
Even in the dim light, the sight before her stole her breath away.
Mountains of gold ingots gave off a faint glow in the darkness. Rows upon rows of rosewood shelves stretched as far as the eye could see, neatly filled with jade ornaments, antiques, coral, and Eastern pearls. Chests of silver ingots stood open, their snowy gleam almost blinding. Bolts of tribute silk lay piled up like colorful hills. And there were countless large sealed crates, who knew what treasures hidden inside.
This was the heart that kept the entire empire running. Its sheer scale was astonishing.
Her system storage space seemed boundless. With a thought, the mountain of gold nearest to her vanished in an instant, as though it had never existed.
Then came the mountain of silver, the racks of jewels, the bolts of silk...
Everything in her path was swept clean.
Like a tireless phantom, she moved through the vast treasury.
Gold bricks, silver ingots, pearls and jade, antiques and paintings, precious medicinal herbs, weapons and armor—even the sandalwood stands beneath the chests. So long as it could be moved, she swept it all into her storage space!
Until the vast underground palace lay utterly empty, with nothing left but cold walls and the lingering scent of wealth in the air.
Without pausing for even a moment, she turned her thoughts to the emperor's private treasury, with its distinctive fragrance of ambergris mingled with gold and jade.
Since it was nearby, she arrived at her destination in the blink of an eye.
The emperor's private treasury was even more refined. Every item displayed on its curio shelves was an incomparable treasure: a blood-jade coral nearly as tall as a person, lustrous throughout; night-luminous pearls the size of a baby's fist, nestled in brocade boxes and glowing softly; lost paintings and calligraphy from the previous dynasty, casually rolled up; and whole chests of uncut gemstones in every color, shimmering brilliantly.
She moved even faster, and with greater ruthlessness.
Not only the treasures in plain sight, but even the luminous wall panels set into the walls, the white tiger-skin rugs spread across the floor, and the curio shelves themselves... she took them all! The emperor's dragon robes? Taken! The imperial seal? Tsk, so heavy--a superb piece of white jade. Taken!
After one last look at the truly bare private treasury--so empty that even a mouse would leave weeping--she shifted her thoughts and vanished once more.
Next: the empress's private treasury.
The glitter of jewels was even more dazzling here. It was filled with the finest cloud brocades and Suzhou embroidery from the Jiangnan looms, tribute rhinoceros horn and ivory from overseas, and rare treasures "respectfully offered" by palace consorts, noblewomen, and court officials.
She even found the Nine-Phoenix Emerald Crown that the heroine would wear in the future!
Take it! Take it all! Take, take, take!
The imperial inner treasury, the Bureau of Imperial Garments, the dried-goods storehouse of the imperial kitchens... She swept through one once-unattainable treasure trove after another like a tornado.
Wherever she went, she stripped the place down to its foundations, until her storage space began to feel faintly full.
That was right. She no longer had her special abilities, and her space could not be expanded. The capacity available to her was limited, and after cramming in so much, it was already "full."
It was time to leave.
But she was not returning to that cold road of exile.
There was still one place she had to visit.
Her deadbeat father's storeroom! And the private caches of all those concubines!
Thinking of Cheng Jiahui's heartlessness, Wang Qiuniang's viciousness, and the smug looks on the concubines' faces, Cheng Yao's eyes turned even colder. Today, she would collect a little interest on the grievances suffered by the heroine and her mother.
One day, when she returned to the capital, she would settle the score with them properly.
Teleporting back to the family home where the original owner had grown up for more than a decade, she appeared directly in the hidden chamber behind the study.
The last time she had come here, she had sensed that quite a few treasures were hidden within.
Sure enough, although there were not many paintings and calligraphy pieces, the secret chamber was packed with antiques, property deeds, and house titles.
Without the slightest courtesy, she swept it all away.
She left behind neither the inkstone Cheng Jiahui treasured as his life nor the ornaments on the curio shelves in the study--not even a box of premium tea that had just been opened on the desk.
The items in the storeroom, however, disappointed her somewhat.
Perhaps because of Cheng Lan's influence, the Cheng family had also been badly suppressed. They had sent away much of their wealth to call in favors and maintain connections, leaving behind few valuable things. The storeroom therefore looked rather bare.
But that was only compared with the households of the powerful and privileged. Compared with an ordinary family, the difference was still as vast as heaven and earth. What remained would be more than enough to support their entire clan of over a hundred people for ten lifetimes.
And besides, when she had married, Wang Qiuniang had surely withheld a great deal of her betrothal gifts and dowry. Today, she would reclaim every last bit of it!
After clearing out that side, she went to Wang Qiuniang’s room.
Gauzy, cloudlike mermaid-silk curtains draped low around an intricately carved rosewood canopy bed. Gilt incense balls hung from the bedposts, while soft, warm silk quilts covered the mattress... Every single item was extravagantly luxurious.
All of it had been left behind by the original owner’s birth mother!
Wang Qiuniang had seized the entire Cheng household and tormented the original owner as well. She was truly detestable!
With a single thought, Cheng Yao silently transferred everything from Wang Qiuniang’s chests into her spatial pocket dimension.
There were also the belongings of several concubines. All of them had been elevated by Wang Qiuniang; they were birds of a feather.
Cheng Yao did not know where they had hidden their private savings, but as long as she pictured those hidden stashes, her space would sense them.
For instance, Wang Qiuniang’s private fortune was concealed in a secret compartment beneath her bed, mostly gold, silver, jewelry, and banknotes. The Second Concubine’s was hidden in the false bottom of her dowry trunk, consisting mainly of ornaments and fine silks. The Third Concubine was the cleverest of them all—hers was buried beneath the crabapple tree in the courtyard: a box full of gold leaves...
Cheng Yao curled her lips into a smile. Wherever she passed, not a feather was left on a goose, nor hide on a beast.
