As Zhao Changhe carried Tang Wanzhuang into the steaming hot spring, Xia Chichi and Huangfu Qing were left glaring at each other.0

Huangfu Qing felt as though her head was on fire—green fire[1].0

The day had started so well. After all, she was a rebel leader who had plotted for years and, in the end, achieved a resounding victory. Not just any victory, but the largest slice of the spoils among the various factions who had allied for the coup. Anyone in her position would be practically floating with joy.0

Her old nemesis, Tang Wanzhuang, had even knelt before her disciple and acknowledged her as empress.0

Even if she’s really kneeling for Zhao Changhe, that’s fine—he’s the Fire Pig of Shi, he’s my man. Kneeling to him is the same as kneeling to me. Now I’m the Empress Dowager, and she’s still a minister. Victory is mine!0

Her good mood had taken a hit when that shameless woman openly demanded a marriage decree in court. But at least it had not come to fruition. Tang Wanzhuang had wisely refrained from pushing to become Zhao Changhe’s royal concubine. It was perfect.0

Huangfu Qing remained cheerful. Upon realizing that the Vermillion Bird persona was not suited for petty squabbles, she had swiftly switched identities.0

Her return to the palace was not just to vent frustration—there were genuine matters to attend to. The dragon robe’s production was a minor task; a single order was enough to get it done. The real work lay in asserting...0