BSI Chapter 297 Questioning
Chapter 297 Questioning
Liu Hongyan paused slightly in her steps.
She turned her head and looked at the old man.
Looking at his hands gripping the iron bars tightly, at his tear-streaked face, at the extreme fear and pleading in his eyes.
An indescribable sorrow welled up in her heart.
Last night, he was still a minister in the court, wearing a scarlet official robe, standing in the majestic Tianqi Hall, perhaps still giving a passionate speech, perhaps still arguing his case.
But at this moment, he was nothing more than a prisoner. A lowly prisoner who couldn't even control his own destiny.
Just like her.
Liu Hongyan withdrew her gaze without turning back. She couldn't do it.
If you don't even know if you'll survive today, how can you relay messages for others?
The palace maids did not linger.
She simply supported Liu Hongyan and continued walking forward.
Behind them, the old man's screams grew fainter and fainter until they were finally cut off by the slamming iron gate shut.
At the end of the corridor, there was another iron gate.
After pushing it open, there is a set of stone steps leading upwards.
The stone steps are long and steep, each step worn smooth by time and footsteps.
Every few steps along the walls on either side hung an oil lamp, its flames flickering gently in the morning breeze, casting the shadows of the two figures onto the mottled stone wall, sometimes long, sometimes short.
Liu Hongyan walked up the steps one by one. With each step, the shackles on her legs would strike the stone steps, making a dull sound.
Her legs were still weak, and her knees ached so much that she could barely support her body, but she gritted her teeth and walked step by step.
Because she knew that at the end of the stone steps lay sunlight.
It was the fresh air. It was the person who decided her life or death.
Finally, the last stone step. The palace maid pushed open the heavy wooden door.
The sunlight, real, warm, golden sunlight, cascaded down like a waterfall, enveloping her entirely.
Liu Hongyan couldn't help but close her eyes and take a deep breath.
That breath, inhaled into my lungs, carried the fragrance of grass and trees, the moisture of morning dew, the scent of earth, and... the taste of freedom.
Her eyes suddenly welled up with tears.
She stood there, motionless, letting the sunlight fall on her face, her messy hair, and her wrinkled dress.
That warmth, like a mother's hand, gently caressed her swollen cheeks, soothed the wounds that were still throbbing, and soothed the heart that had been tormented by fear all night.
She didn't know if she would survive the day.
But at least for now, she is alive. She stands in the sunlight.
The palace maid stood quietly to the side, without urging them on.
.......
Outside the imperial prison was a long palace road.
The bluestone pavement gleamed with a damp sheen in the morning light, as if a light fog had fallen the night before, and tiny water droplets still clung to the moss in the cracks of the stones.
On both sides of the palace road are tall vermilion palace walls, with a few branches of winter plum blossoms peeking out from the top of the walls. The pale yellow buds trembled gently in the morning breeze, and some of them had already opened, emitting a cool and delicate fragrance.
At the end of the palace path stood a person.
She wore a moon-white dress and had long, loose hair, which was loosely tied up with a single white jade hairpin.
She stood there quietly, her back to the direction of the prison, facing the eastern sky dyed red by the morning glow.
The morning light shone in from behind her, bathing her in a pale golden halo, and her slender figure cast a long shadow on the long palace corridor.
Zhao Qingxue.
Liu Hongyan paused slightly in her steps.
Her heart leaped into her throat.
She looked at the moon-white figure, at the long, flowing hair, and at the slender silhouette outlined by the morning light.
Last night in the Tianqi Palace, this woman slapped her more than a dozen times, so hard that she could barely stand.
Does she hate her? Yes.
But at this moment, looking at that figure standing in the morning light, what welled up in her heart was a complex and indescribable emotion.
Because this woman was her only hope.
Liu Hongyan took a deep breath and stepped forward.
The shackles on her feet dragged on the bluestone slabs, making a clanging metallic sound that was particularly jarring in the quiet palace corridor.
She stopped three steps behind Zhao Qingxue.
Then she spoke. Her voice was hoarse and urgent, carrying an almost trembling expectation that she couldn't suppress:
"Your Majesty—how is it?"
Her voice trembled slightly in the morning breeze, each word seeming to be forced out from her throat.
Those bloodshot phoenix eyes were fixed on Zhao Qingxue's back, their depths filled with extreme tension and fear.
She is afraid.
She was afraid of hearing the answer she least wanted to hear.
Zhao Qingxue slowly turned around.
The morning light shone in from behind her, illuminating her stunningly beautiful face with exceptional clarity.
She looked at Liu Hongyan, at her swollen face, at her bloodshot eyes that still burned with the will to survive, at her wrinkled clothes and the heavy shackles on her feet.
A complex emotion flashed in her eyes.
It's not sympathy.
She has long lost the right to sympathize with others.
It wasn't pity either.
She herself was nothing more than a trapped beast in another cage.
It's something deeper, something more complex.
It's a feeling of shared exhaustion.
It is a profound understanding of the tragedy of fate.
It's a silent resonance that says, "I know what you're going through because I just went through it too."
She remembered that she had been in the same situation not long ago.
He was hung up, slapped, and hit repeatedly with a wooden stick.
Kneeling on the cold ground, forehead touching the earth, begging for mercy in the most humble posture.
At that time, her eyes also shone with that same light.
Extreme fear, extreme humiliation, extreme resentment, yet also an almost insane obsession with wanting to live no matter what.
At this moment, she saw the same light in Liu Hongyan's eyes.
Zhao Qingxue sighed softly in her heart.
The sigh made no sound; it merely echoed in the chest for a moment before dissipating in the morning breeze.
She spoke, her voice soft, yet each word clear:
"Although His Majesty has spared you, you still need to be questioned about your crimes."
Liu Hongyan's heart sank suddenly.
The color drained instantly from the face that had just been slightly tinged with hope by the words "I'll spare you."
Her lips trembled slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but something seemed to be blocking her throat, and she couldn't squeeze out a single word.
Seeing her like this, Zhao Qingxue continued, her voice still calm, so calm that it was completely undisturbed:
"Today, you will come with me to the Hall of Apocalypse for trial."
The Hall of Awakening. He was put on trial.
These four words were like four giant rocks, crashing heavily into the lake in Liu Hongyan's heart that had just begun to ripple.
Countless images flashed through her mind in an instant.
Last night, the magnificent palace, the golden pillars with coiled dragons, the kneeling courtiers, and the man sitting on the throne, smiling as he looked at her.
And—that minister who was dragged out.
Liu Hongyan's body trembled slightly.
The trembling started in the fingers, spread to the wrists, to the arms, to the shoulders, and finally to the whole body.
She was like a leaf in the wind, swaying precariously.
She opened her mouth, her voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible:
"So... what happens after the interrogation?"
She used all her strength to say those words.
The fear in those phoenix eyes was so intense it was almost overflowing.
Zhao Qingxue looked at her, at the almost humble expectation in her eyes.
In my heart, the complexity deepened once more.
She didn't answer immediately, but just looked at Liu Hongyan quietly.
The morning light danced on her face, illuminating her deep purple phoenix eyes with exceptional clarity.
Then she spoke. Her voice was still very soft, yet it was like a spring breeze brushing across a frozen lake, carrying a hint of almost imperceptible warmth:
"It won't kill you."
Six characters.
Liu Hongyan's body jolted violently.
Tears welled up in those phoenix eyes instantly. The tears came without warning, yet surged uncontrollably.
They burst forth, sliding down her swollen cheeks, flowing over the bright red handprints, over the dried scabs at the corners of her mouth, and dripping onto her lake-blue dress, spreading out dark stains.
Her lips trembled violently; she wanted to say something—thank you, express her gratitude, and so on.
But she couldn't say anything. Only tears flowed silently and frantically.
She's alive. She doesn't have to die.
She can live.
The thought echoed wildly in her mind, like the most beautiful melody, washing away all the fear, despair, and unbearable suffering of the previous night.
Seeing her like this, Zhao Qingxue did not urge her.
He just stood there quietly, waiting for her.
A morning breeze swept by, lifting her moon-white robes and Liu Hongyan's disheveled long hair.
A few birdsongs drifted from afar, clear and melodious, echoing along the quiet palace path.
I don't know how much time passed.
Liu Hongyan's tears finally stopped.
She raised her hand and wiped her face haphazardly with her sleeve, erasing some of the tear stains, bloodstains, and disheveled appearance.
She took a deep breath, raised her head, and looked at Zhao Qingxue.
Tears still clung to those phoenix eyes, but the light in them was no longer filled with fear.
It was gratitude, the relief and relief of surviving a disaster.
Zhao Qingxue looked at her, but did not let her linger in the relief of surviving the ordeal for too long.
She continued speaking, her voice still soft, but carrying an undeniable solemnity:
"But you must remember."
Liu Hongyan's heart jumped again.
She stared intently at Zhao Qingxue, straining her ears, afraid of missing a single word.
Zhao Qingxue looked at her and said, slowly and deliberately:
"Later in the hall, His Majesty will ask you to confess to the crimes he has ordered you to do."
Her gaze, like two sharp knives, pierced straight into Liu Hongyan's eyes:
"Don't do what happened last night."
She paused, her voice becoming even softer, but the weight of her words increased tenfold:
"Otherwise—not only will you be unable to save me, but I will also be implicated."
She spoke the last few words slowly and softly, yet each word was as firm as iron.
Liu Hongyan's pupils contracted slightly.
She looked at Zhao Qingxue, at the calm, almost cold expression on that stunning face.
The relief that had just welled up in my heart because "it won't hurt your life" was instantly suppressed by a deeper fear.
She understood. She completely understood.
This is not a negotiation. This is a warning.
If she doesn't cherish it, if she makes another stupid mistake, if she's as stubborn, unwilling, and reckless as she was last night.
She wasn't the only one who died.
There's also Zhao Qingxue.
Liu Hongyan's body trembled slightly.
It wasn't out of fear, but because she suddenly understood why Zhao Qingxue had helped her.
It wasn't out of sympathy, pity, or any vague sense of goodwill.
Rather, it's because... they are the same kind of people.
They are all chess pieces on a chessboard. They are all chess pieces held in that man's palm, pieces he could crush at any moment.
Zhao Qingxue helped her, not because she was Liu Hongyan.
Rather, it's because she was helping "another version of herself."
It's that same stubborn, unwilling, and reckless version of myself.
Liu Hongyan's tears welled up again.
But this time, she didn't cry out.
She simply stood there, letting her tears fall silently, looking at Zhao Qingxue.
Then, she nodded slowly and heavily.
The movement was slow and forceful, as if it used all the strength in the body.
"I understand," she said. Her voice was hoarse, yet exceptionally clear.
Zhao Qingxue looked at her, at the gradually firming light in her eyes.
The weight that had been hanging over her heart finally lifted a little. She nodded.
"Let's go," she said.
Then she turned around.
The moon-white dress fluttered gently in the morning breeze, its hem trailing on the ground with a soft rustling sound.
She strode toward the majestic palace. Her steps were unhurried, her back ramrod straight.
Liu Hongyan followed behind her.
The shackles on his feet dragged on the bluestone slabs, making a "clattering" sound, one after another.
She didn't look down at the shackles, but instead looked up at the pale white figure in front of her.
That slender yet upright figure, bathed in a pale golden glow in the morning light.
As the morning light grew stronger, it cast the shadows of the two people on the long palace path, one in front of the other, intertwined.
In the distance, the outline of the Tianqi Hall became increasingly clear in the morning light.
The vermilion palace walls, the golden glazed tiles, and the majestic halls gleamed with a solemn and luxurious light under the morning sun.
That place is the heart of the Liyang Dynasty.
There, at this moment, sits a man.
The man who decided her life or death.
Liu Hongyan took a deep breath.
She was no longer afraid.
Because she knew she only had one chance. She had to seize it.
A morning breeze swept by, lifting her disheveled long hair.
She walked on, following behind Zhao Qingxue, step by step, toward the magnificent palace.
She walked toward the man who would decide her fate.
Heading towards that unknown future, but one we must survive no matter what.
Behind him, the gates of the prison slowly closed in the morning light.
A soft "bang" shut out the darkness, and also shut out all the fear and despair of the previous night.
Ahead, the sun is shining brightly.
The gates of the Tianqi Hall were wide open.