Yu Miaohua was genuinely feeling a pang of guilt at the moment.
She let out a soft cough and said, "Water."
When in doubt, change the subject.
Qingluo, who had been frozen in shock upon seeing her awake, snapped back to reality and hurriedly poured water. The girl kept crying as she brought the cup over.
Yu Miaohua joked, "If you keep crying like this, I’ll end up drinking your tears instead."
Qingluo’s tears only fell harder.
Yu Miaohua used the act of drinking water to hide her unease.
After she finished, Imperial Physician Shen checked her pulse.
The diagnosis showed that Yu Miaohua’s qi and blood were abundant, with no detectable issues in her body.
Others soon arrived upon hearing the news. Pei Chiyan stood quietly in a corner, silent.
Having slept for several days, Yu Miaohua was truly starving.
The moment she mentioned hunger, the kitchen promptly sent over porridge. Since she hadn’t eaten for days, everyone was careful not to overfeed her or serve anything greasy.
The porridge was made with chicken broth, with every trace of oil skimmed off the top. No additional ingredients or heavy seasoning were added, as they worried about her digestion. Still, the natural sweetness of the broth and the perfectly cooked, melt-in-your-mouth texture made it palatable enough for her.
Yu Miaohua sighed helplessly, "With all of you staring at me like this, I can’t even eat properly."
The pressure of everyone’s gaze was overwhelming.
The others quickly averted their eyes.
Qingluo wanted to feed her, but Yu Miaohua insisted on eating by herself to prove she was perfectly fine. Unable to persuade her, Qingluo could only watch anxiously from the side.
After finishing her meal, Yu Miaohua checked her "Deep Sleep" skill—alright, next time she used it, she’d definitely adjust the settings beforehand.
Though she had earned plenty of mission rewards, she had also given everyone around her a terrible scare.
Before long, Jiang Kangyou and the others returned from outside.
The moment they saw Yu Miaohua with that row of colorful words floating above her head, they felt relieved.
[Wow! This time, we got so many mission rewards! Host, I think we can level up again this year!]
[When will you claim the rewards, Host?]
[Let’s wait until we return to the palace… The glass factory in the capital should be ready by now. With transparent glass, we can make telescopes next.]
Jiang Kangyou relaxed visibly.
Though he didn’t know what missions Yu Miaohua had completed or what rewards she’d obtained, he’d find out once they returned to the capital.
Just seeing the lively display from the "divine spirit" assured him that Yu Miaohua was truly fine, easing his worries.
A telescope? Judging by the name, was it something that allowed one to see far away? Just how far could it see?
Speaking of the capital…
Jiang Kangyou and Lu Lingyun exchanged glances—they needed to send a secret memorial to the Emperor immediately.
On the second day of Yu Miaohua’s unconsciousness, they had already dispatched a fast horse to the capital with a secret report. Once the news reached the palace, who knew how much concern it would stir?
Jiang Kangyou rushed back to his room to draft the memorial, emphasizing that they had obtained the second treasure map from the previous dynasty, along with some mission rewards they hadn’t yet deciphered.
He ordered, "This letter must reach the capital at the fastest possible speed."
He reckoned it was about time for them to return to the capital.
---
Meanwhile, in the capital’s Baixian Mountain…
With a deafening boom, the towering thirty-meter-high city wall collapsed. Even from a distance, the explosion was ear-splitting, making hearts skip a beat as if gripped by an invisible force. The ground beneath their feet trembled, almost as if an earthquake had struck.
As the dust slowly settled, the ruins of the wall came into view—utterly demolished.
This wall had been built by Pei Lingyue as soon as he acquired the gunpowder formula, specifically to test its destructive power.
Though he had mentally prepared himself, witnessing such a godlike spectacle firsthand still left him awestruck.
If this were used in battle, Great Qi would become invincible. Pei Lingyue laughed heartily, even wishing Liang Country would provoke them—just so he’d have an excuse to deploy it.
Never had Pei Lingyue been more grateful that Yu Miaohua was a citizen of Great Qi. If she had served another nation, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
"Excellent! Absolutely excellent!"
"Rewards—they must be rewarded!"
The supervisor who had perfected the gunpowder was appointed as a seventh-rank official in the Ministry of Works, while others were granted ninth-rank positions. Though the ranks were low, for craftsmen, this was a meteoric rise. On top of that, each received gold and fertile land—the supervisor was given five hundred taels of gold and two hundred acres, while the lowest-ranked still received a hundred taels and fifty acres.
Pei Lingyue planned to establish a gunpowder camp, where secrecy would be paramount. He would not allow even a hint of the formula to leak. To divert attention from Yu Miaohua, he would publicly claim it was discovered by accident.
After witnessing gunpowder’s might, Pei Lingyue visited the glass factory before returning to the palace.
Yu Miaohua’s provided techniques were meticulously detailed, with every critical step clearly outlined.
Pei Lingyue saw not only vibrantly colored glassware but also perfectly transparent glass.
While foreign glass existed, none matched the flawless clarity of theirs—utterly free of impurities.
Overseas, a single transparent glass bowl cost a hundred taels, while a large, flawless sheet like this could sell for two thousand taels—yet its production cost was merely a few taels.
Initially, Pei Lingyue considered auctioning them off. Then he remembered—the formula belonged to Yu Miaohua, who had once mentioned to the "divine spirit" her wish to replace the side palace’s windows with glass for winter snow viewing.
Since Yu Miaohua wasn’t back yet, he could surprise her.
He ordered the finest pieces sent to Guanju Palace.
Yu Miaohua usually resided in the eastern warm chamber, so the western chamber—with its lakeside view—would be fitted with the glass.
News of the first batch of glass being delivered to Guanju Palace quickly spread. In the past, concubines might have grumbled, but now they took it in stride. Wasn’t it only natural for the best to go to Consort Hui first?
Besides, the glass formula was hers to begin with. If she could casually hand over something so priceless, what were a few panes of glass? Even if she wanted a whole glass house, it would be justified.
Once the installation was complete, Pei Lingyue inspected the effect—indeed, the glass made the entire room noticeably brighter.
Thus, he also arranged for his own Qianyuan Palace, followed by the Empress Dowager’s Ningshou Palace, the Empress’s Fengyi Palace, and the Yu family’s residence—all of them were to be outfitted accordingly. As for the other concubines who desired the same, they could purchase the items with silver.
After all, they were his concubines, and Pei Lingyue wasn’t so heartless as to charge them two thousand taels for a single piece.
Gazing at the eager expression of Consort Yuan Huirou, Pei Lingyue said, “My beloved consort, you and Consort Hui are as close as sisters. I’m sure she wouldn’t wish to profit too much from you.”
After a brief pause, he continued, “So, I’ll only charge you the cost price—four hundred taels for one large pane of glass.”
Yuan Huirou was overjoyed. She had braced herself for a price of several thousand taels per piece, yet it was only four hundred?
“Your Majesty, both my main hall and the eastern warm chamber need them.”
As a high-ranking consort, Yuan Huirou certainly wasn’t short on silver. Initially, she had planned to install the glass only in her main hall, assuming each piece would cost thousands. But now that she learned it was merely four hundred taels, she decided the eastern warm chamber must be included as well.
When the other concubines heard the price, they too approached Pei Lingyue with requests.
Truthfully, Pei Lingyue hadn’t intended to profit much from them, but since they insisted on offering their silver, he had no choice but to accept.
The other concubines were charged slightly more—six hundred taels per pane. Though pricier than Yuan Huirou’s deal, they still felt they were getting a bargain. The quality of glass sold outside for two thousand taels couldn’t compare to this.
Pei Lingyue arranged everything without hesitation.
News soon reached the imperial relatives, who all came pleading for the same treatment.
They were family, after all, and Pei Lingyue couldn’t simply dismiss their expectations. With a show of reluctance, he said, “You’ve all seen the quality of this glass. The price won’t be cheap.”
The imperial relatives understood perfectly. Cheap goods wouldn’t reflect their noble status.
“In the future, I’ll also sell this glass to the public at fifteen hundred taels per pane. But for you, I’ll make it a thousand taels.”
Familiar with Pei Lingyue’s temperament, the imperial relatives had braced themselves for an exorbitant markup. A thousand taels was far more reasonable than they’d anticipated, and they couldn’t help but marvel inwardly: The Emperor has grown more compassionate.
Fearing they might miss out if they delayed, they hurriedly placed their orders.
“A deposit is required. Those who can’t afford it will have to wait.”
To ensure their requests were honored, they even proposed paying the deposit upfront, reasoning that once the Emperor accepted it, he wouldn’t cancel their orders.
“Very well. Let’s set the deposit at thirty percent.”
Chai Xiu recorded all the pre-orders, and within two days, the deposits were fully collected.
The total deposits alone amounted to over two hundred thousand taels.
Though white sugar and rock sugar were profitable, they paled in comparison to glass.
Pei Lingyue was moved. If the glass factory could keep up with production, an annual profit of ten million taels wasn’t just a dream.
But his joy was short-lived. Soon, news arrived from Xiazhou.
Before opening the report, Pei Lingyue had been in high spirits. Yu Miaohua’s mission outside the capital had not only alleviated the drought in three regions, elevating the Great Qi imperial family’s standing among the people, but also led to the capture of remnants of the previous dynasty. It was an overwhelming success.
As for Wen Qingying, a descendant of the former imperial family, Pei Lingyue considered granting her the title of princess in recognition of her defection, showcasing Great Qi’s magnanimity. Moreover, as a genuine descendant of the former dynasty, her surrender would undermine the legitimacy of any remaining rebels still clinging to the cause of restoration.
What other good news could Xiazhou possibly bring?
At this point, Pei Lingyue’s lips were still curved in a smile.
The report began with an account of Yu Miaohua projecting scenes of the underworld, allowing the people of Xiazhou to witness the former dynasty’s last emperor enduring tortures in hell.
Jiang Kangyou, a scholar of vast learning and eloquence, vividly described the scene in just a few words, bringing it to life on paper. Pei Lingyue was so enthralled he wished he could have been there in person.
“Brilliant!”
Yu Miaohua’s move was masterful, permanently branding the former dynasty with infamy.
Moreover, they had obtained a second treasure map. What riches lay within this vault—gold or silver?
But as he read further, his smile vanished instantly.
Yu Miaohua had fallen into an unexplained coma.
Was this another act coordinated with the divine system?
No… Her mentor and Lie Wuhou could see the dialogue. If it were staged, they would have known.
So Yu Miaohua was truly unconscious.
The thought that she might never wake up, that there would be no more rewards, struck Pei Lingyue with a pain so deep it felt like his heart was being torn apart.
Though Yu Miaohua appeared docile and obedient on the surface, her inner thoughts often held little respect for him, and she had a tendency to hold grudges. Yet she was pure-hearted and kind, giving her all to those she cared for. Despite holding countless rewards, she had never sought to exploit them for personal gain.
Such a remarkable person, who had brought so much benefit to Great Qi—if she were taken away like this…
Pei Lingyue couldn’t accept it.
His eyes reddened, and tears streamed down his face.
Even when he had nearly lost his position as crown prince in his youth, Pei Lingyue hadn’t shed a tear. But now, he was truly grief-stricken.
If Heaven sought a life, why not take Prince Zhuang or Prince Yao? Why must it be Yu Miaohua?
No, she was still alive—merely unconscious. He shouldn’t curse her like this.
His mind was in turmoil. After the initial wave of sorrow, he forced himself to think rationally.
This matter had to be suppressed for now. If word spread, the Empress Dowager and others might be overwhelmed with shock.
“Your Majesty, Consort Hua has prepared a new dance to ease Your Majesty’s worries,” a eunuch cautiously reported.
Half an hour ago, the Emperor had seemed in excellent spirits. But now, his expression was clouded with unmistakable sorrow, tear stains still visible on his face. Had His Majesty been crying?
What could have happened?
The eunuch thought to himself: Consort Hua is about to face misfortune again.
Pei Lingyue snapped back to reality. In his current state, he had no interest in watching dances. His mind was consumed by Yu Miaohua’s condition.
Without Yu Miaohua, there would be no more tasks—and no more rewards.
Coldly, he ordered, “Bring me the scriptures Consort Hua copied a few days ago.”
Two months had passed since Chu Yunxia’s house arrest had been lifted, but to keep her from causing trouble out of idleness, Pei Lingyue had assigned her daily scripture-copying tasks.
When the scriptures were presented, Pei Lingyue flipped through them and remarked icily, “Consort Hua’s copying lacks sincerity. From now on, she must copy two additional volumes each day.”
When the decree reached Qionghua Palace, Chu Yunxia, who had dressed herself in alluring finery, was stunned.
Finally free from confinement and with Yu Miaohua absent from the palace, this was her perfect opportunity to regain favor. The other concubines didn’t even register in her mind.
She had envisioned herself regaining the Emperor’s favor, conceiving a child as soon as possible, reclaiming her position as mistress of the palace, and even installing glass in her chambers. Chang Ru had told her how stunning the newly installed glass in the palace looked. Nearly all the high-ranking consorts had placed orders.
Chu Yunxia, as the princess of Liang Country, refused to be outshone by the others.
Yet, despite her high hopes, she did not receive the Emperor's favor—instead, she was met with the thunderous decree to copy scriptures.
Chu Yunxia was furious: she had already copied them meticulously—how could her devotion be questioned?
Yu Miaohua wasn’t even in the palace, yet she still held the Emperor’s heart firmly in her grasp.
When the other consorts received the news, they secretly rejoiced.
Thankfully, they hadn’t competed for favor—otherwise, they might have hit a wall. The Emperor seemed to be in a terrible mood.
At this moment, they couldn’t help but miss Yu Miaohua.
When Consort Hui was around, the Emperor’s temper was usually much better.
……
Pei Lingyue first went to the ancestral temple to pray for Yu Miaohua, asking the ancestors to protect her and ensure she awoke soon. Midway through his prayers, he suddenly realized—his ancestors hadn’t shown any signs of divine intervention in years. They had probably all reincarnated by now. Perhaps praying to the gods would be more reliable.
So he quietly left the palace to visit a temple.
In his heart, he prayed: If a sacrifice is needed, let it be Prince Zhuang and Prince Yao. He was willing to offer their lifespans in exchange for Yu Miaohua’s safety and happiness.
Since Prince Feng had already submitted, and Pei Lingyou’s son Pei Yuheng had indirectly contributed the glass formula, Pei Lingyue decided—out of fairness—to spare Prince Feng from the sacrifice.
After all, he was a just and wise emperor.
For several days, Pei Lingyue visited every temple, publicly claiming he was praying for the people of Jiangzhou and Songzhou.
By the third day, he began to suspect that Prince Zhuang and Prince Yao might not be significant enough… the most worthy sacrifice would have to be an emperor.
Crown Prince Pei Chiyan was certainly noble, but he was Pei Lingyue’s carefully groomed heir—how could he bear to sacrifice him?
So Pei Lingyue reluctantly decided to add the late emperor to the list.
Gazing at the solemn statue of Guanyin in the temple, he silently prayed:
Bodhisattva, please protect Yu Miaohua and let her awaken soon. If a life must be taken, let it be the reincarnation of the late emperor.
Perhaps because he had dwelled on it all day, that night, Pei Lingyue had a dream.
In it, the Bodhisattva asked him:
"If the Crown Prince and Yu Miaohua were drowning, whom would you save?"
"Yu Miaohua!"
Pei Chiyan had been trained in swimming since childhood—he could handle himself.
The phrasing of the question felt eerily familiar, so Pei Lingyue seized the opportunity to counter:
"The late emperor is the one I revere and cherish most—more than myself. But if he and Yu Miaohua were drowning, I would save Yu Miaohua."
He invoked the late emperor first, just in case the gods next asked him to choose between Yu Miaohua and the Empress.
"I am willing to sacrifice ten lifetimes of the late emperor’s reincarnated blessings in exchange for one lifetime of peace and joy for Consort Hui," he emphasized.
"Very well. I understand."
The voice faded, and Pei Lingyue awoke.
Recalling the dream, his restless heart inexplicably calmed.
Was that the divine intervention I sought?
If the gods appeared in my dream, does that mean Yu Miaohua will be alright?
He wondered if his answer had satisfied them—would there be a reward?
Even if there wasn’t, as long as Yu Miaohua was safe, it was enough.
At the morning court session, the ministers noticed the Emperor’s mood had improved—no longer as explosive as the past few days.
After court, Pei Lingyue immediately checked the secret reports. Among them was one from Xiazhou:
Yu Miaohua has awoken safely. They are returning to the capital.
Pei Lingyue couldn’t help but smile.
Sacrificing the late emperor really was more effective.
Xiazhou was far from the capital—even with a swift horse, the report would take at least three days to arrive.
Which meant Yu Miaohua had woken three days ago.
But since the report only reached him after his sacrifice, surely this was the will of the heavens.
Pei Lingyue cheerfully rubbed his nose.
That night, he slept soundly—no dreams.
Good. Since the late emperor didn’t appear in my dreams, he must not object. Next time Yu Miaohua needs protection, he can bear the cost again.
……
On her journey back to the capital, Yu Miaohua sat bored in her carriage, listening to Wen Qingying chatter about the White Lotus Sect.
Thanks to her deep slumber, she was actually more energetic than the others. But they treated her like fragile porcelain, slowing their pace to avoid jostling her.
Day One:
[Ahh, Host! The Emperor knows you were unconscious! He even cried for you! Wuwu, you’re his one weakness! Such a beautiful love story—I’m swooning!]
[Congratulations on completing the hidden quest: "Make a Monarch Grieve for You with Sincere Tears." Reward: One year of favorable weather for three provinces + 1000 points.]
Yu Miaohua: "…"
Her conscience twinged slightly.
[Any pictures?]
[No, since you’re not in the capital. My access is limited.]
She felt a pang of regret. She hoped the Emperor would soon learn she had awoken—no need for him to suffer.
But once I return and he sees the treasure map, he’ll cheer up, right?
Plus, three provinces will have good weather next year! I can arrange it for Jiangzhou and the others.
Thinking of all the benefits the Emperor would gain, her guilt vanished. He’s definitely profiting here.
Day Two:
[Wow, the Emperor prayed for you at the ancestral temple! He even went to a Buddhist temple!]
[He doesn’t seem threatened by your influence—he genuinely wants you to wake up.]
[New Main Quest 4.8: "Make the Emperor Go Mad for You—Willing to Sacrifice His Most Precious Possession for Your Recovery." Reward: Three-year disaster forecast for Great Qi.]
Yu Miaohua bolted upright.
Qingluo asked, "What’s wrong?"
"Nothing, just stretching. My back’s stiff," Yu Miaohua lied.
Internally, she was screaming:
[How is this even possible?! No matter how much he loves me, he’d never sacrifice himself!]
In her eyes, the Emperor’s greatest love was himself.
This quest is impossible.
[Host, if the system triggered it, there must be a way! Don’t give up so fast!]
[Once we’re back in the palace, we’ll figure it out!]
Yu Miaohua resigned herself. I’ve already earned plenty of rewards. Even if this one’s unattainable, it’s fine.
Jiang Kangyou, Lu Lingyun, and Jiang Xunxin also saw the quest.
Lu Lingyun sighed, equally pessimistic.
"This reward’s out of reach. We can’t help with this one."
A three-year disaster forecast was incredibly tempting.
Jiang Kangyou remained silent: If only the late emperor hadn’t passed away so many years ago. Otherwise, His Majesty would surely have been more than willing to sacrifice him.
Another morning dawned.
As usual, Lu Lingyun and the others were dazzled by the system’s radiant, multicolored text.
[Ahhh, the mission is complete!! Host, you truly are the emperor’s one and only love!!]
[Congratulations, Host, for completing Main Mission 4.8: Make the emperor go mad for you, wild for you, and even sacrifice his most precious existence just to wake you up. Mission rewards have been distributed.]
[?? Did the system glitch? I haven’t even seen His Majesty yet—how is the mission already completed?]
Lu Lingyun nearly fell off his tall steed.
What? Had they all misjudged the emperor? Was His Majesty truly willing to sacrifice himself for Consort Hui?
After all, they were currently outside the palace, and the emperor had no knowledge of this mission or its rewards. Yet the task had been completed—which, in a way, only proved the emperor’s sincerity.
Huh?
Had the emperor not been possessed by the late emperor? Was the Great Qi imperial family about to produce another hopeless romantic?
Lu Lingyun quickly realized he was overthinking it.
[I even entered His Majesty’s dream to ask him. He said the late emperor was the most important person in his heart, but if it came down to choosing between the two of you drowning, he’d save you, Host!]
[He was even willing to trade ten lifetimes of the late emperor’s reincarnated blessings for just one lifetime of your peace and happiness. Ah, I was deeply moved.]
[Host, I recorded it specially. Do you want to watch?]
[...]
[I’d rather not.]
Yu Miaohua decided to retract her earlier sentiment. Given the late emperor’s character, she refused to believe the emperor genuinely revered him. She had definitely overthought it.
[Host, aren’t you touched? Are you really not going to watch?]
The system insisted it was genuinely moved. Ah, the emperor, the crown prince, Pei Yuheng, Shen Sushang… who should it root for?
[Touched, very touched. No need to watch—I might cry from overwhelming emotion.]
Yu Miaohua brushed it off. Since the mission was already complete, there was no point dwelling on the details.
She’d been terrified earlier, almost convinced the emperor had truly turned into an incurable romantic fool. Even if she was the object of his devotion, she couldn’t accept that.
Lu Lingyun sighed in relief: So it was just about sacrificing the late emperor? Well, that’s fine then.
Jiang Kangyou wanted to laugh, but it would’ve been inappropriate to do so now. Still, the corners of his lips stubbornly refused to stay down.
The late emperor really had outdone himself—even after all these years, he could still be repurposed as scrap to help Great Qi secure such a reward.
Today was a good day. Pity they were on the road and couldn’t celebrate with wine, but tea would have to suffice.
Everyone agreed: Sacrificing the late emperor was acceptable.
The late emperor: Is no one going to speak up for me?
