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Chapter 02: The Resurrected Empress Chun Yuan…

After being led around several corners by Huo Haicheng, the formerly serene and traditional scenery began to change. The view gradually opened up, and in an instant, it felt like she had stepped into another world—a lavish, extravagant den of indulgence.

Que Wanshu had no mind to admire the antiques, famous paintings, or fine wines surrounding her. Every step forward felt like trudging down the path to the underworld—painfully difficult.

She was too drained to resist, lost and anxious as she was dragged along. Her mind was a mess, and her heartbeat quickened with each step.

Huo Haicheng led her to a private room. Just as he was about to open the door, someone came out. Seeing them, the person paused in surprise.
“Who’s this you brought along?” he asked.

He reeked of alcohol and looked Huo Haicheng up and down. “You stepped out for a smoke and came back with a girl? Come on, quit chasing girls—Xun-ge’s in a bad mood, go cheer him up. I’m out of ideas.”

Hearing that name, Que Wanshu’s face turned even paler.

Huo Haicheng chuckled. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Cao Ying, the drunk man, didn’t get it. He squinted at Que Wanshu, examining her. “She’s pretty… but why does she look a bit like—hey, don’t tell me you’re pulling a He Mingyan stunt! Xun-ge will flip. She really does look like her though…”

Que Wanshu stiffened as he leaned in closer. They locked eyes for a few seconds before Cao Ying suddenly jerked back, sobered instantly.

“Holy crap! Huo Haicheng, you—”

“Move.” Huo Haicheng rolled his eyes and shoved him aside, pulling Que Wanshu into the room.

Lian Feng, who had also gone outside for a smoke, returned and saw Cao Ying standing dazed by the door, muttering curses. “Why are you just standing there?”

Cao Ying didn’t answer, frozen for a few more seconds before stumbling back into the room.

“We’re screwed! A palace coup is coming!”

Lian Feng: “…”

What the hell has this guy been watching—too many historical dramas?

—

This private room was nothing like the one the people from Yun’an Hospital were in. It wasn’t just a dining space—it had everything: a bar, billiards, card tables, karaoke, and even an outdoor pool beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Inside, a group of expensively dressed second-generation elites were drinking and laughing amid upbeat music.

When Huo Haicheng entered with Que Wanshu, several people looked over, curious and scrutinizing her with interest, making her even more uncomfortable.

A man joked, “Huo-ge, who’s this? New girlfriend?”

A woman giggled. “So Huo-ge likes the innocent type, huh? If I knew, I would’ve dressed more like the girl next door.”

Huo Haicheng ignored them and led Que Wanshu straight toward a sofa area.

Seven or eight people were gathered there, most facing one direction—toward a man casually seated on the sofa, swirling wine in a glass. His long legs were crossed, posture relaxed, but his expression was clearly irritated.

When someone called out “Huo-ge’s here,” the man looked up casually—then his gaze froze the moment he saw her.

Que Wanshu also froze.

Their eyes met, and it was as if a loud crash echoed in her ears. Her brain buzzed, her blood ran cold, limbs numb. Even her soul trembled under the weight of that gaze.

At the same time, his face slammed into her mind with a thunderous force.

—Wei Xun.

How long had it been?

Since she was eighteen, since the night they broke up.

As she stared at Wei Xun, he was staring right back.

She could clearly see the moment his face darkened even further. His black eyes were like ancient, bottomless wells—cold and silent as they bore into her.

She should never have come here.

She wanted to turn and leave immediately, but someone suddenly shoved a microphone into her hands and pushed her forward.

Huo Haicheng said with a grin, “It’s Xun-ge’s birthday—sing him a song.”

That line set off a wave of excitement. More people gathered, focusing their attention on her—curious, mocking, disinterested, amused. But no gaze was as piercing as Wei Xun’s.

He just sat there silently, and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Her limbs were icy, like a puppet on stage with its strings cut.

Someone urged impatiently, “Come on, sing already. You want Xun-ge to beg you?”

Cao Ying walked in and saw this exact scene.

He nearly rushed up to slap the guy who spoke. But since Wei Xun showed no reaction, he didn’t dare act out. Instead, he ran to his buddy Hou Ximing, frantically signaling with his eyes.

Hou Ximing frowned. “What’s wrong with your eyes? Drunk?”

“Screw you!” Cao Ying jabbed toward Que Wanshu. “Open your damn eyes and look! That’s her! That one!”

“Who?” Hou Ximing blinked. “Speak clearly.”

Cao Ying gritted his teeth and whispered, “It’s Xun-ge’s resurrected Empress Chun Yuan!”

“What the hell ‘Empress’? I—”

Then it hit him.

“Holy shit!”

—

One person jeered, and the others joined in. To them, it was just a show. Que Wanshu was nothing more than a clown forced to perform center stage.

Wei Xun didn’t stop them. He simply leaned back into the sofa, loosened his collar, sipped his drink, and said flatly:

“Sing.”

That single word ignited even more laughter.

Cornered, Que Wanshu could only lift the microphone.

She intended to sing “Happy Birthday” and escape. But when she saw Wei Xun’s cold eyes, she panicked—and blurted out:

“Where is spring, where is spring—”

She immediately froze.

She had just started singing the children’s song she’d taught Chenchen that morning!

But it was too late.

She braced herself and sang:

“Spring is in the green forest,
There are red flowers, green grass,
And little orioles that can sing—”

Her voice was soft, shaky, and completely dry without background music. Not great, but the one redeeming quality was her pleasant tone.

By the time she reached the cheerful “di li li li di li li,” she looked like she was ready to accept death.

She finished the song, and the room fell into a dead silence.

Then someone burst out laughing.

“Trying to get Xun-ge’s attention with a nursery rhyme? That’s next-level desperation!”

Everyone else followed with howls of laughter.

“She sang a kid’s song! That’s the wildest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“If you can’t sing, at least go with Happy Birthday! Why the hell sing that?”

“And she was off-key too. You call that singing? Who gave you the courage, Liang Jingru?”

Surrounded by mockery, Que Wanshu’s face flushed red. She wished she could dig a hole and disappear. Inside, she was cursing Huo Haicheng to pieces.

In others’ eyes, her humiliation looked like she was on the verge of tears.

CLANG—

A wine glass slammed hard onto the glass table. The laughter stopped instantly. Everyone looked toward the man on the sofa.

Wei Xun was smiling—but his eyes were cold, his aura like a brewing storm. He stared directly at Que Wanshu and said:

“What’s so funny? Applaud.”

CLAP CLAP CLAP—

Cao Ying clapped first. Hou Ximing quickly followed. Then everyone else awkwardly joined in, some even whistling.

Que Wanshu had never felt more lost. She tried to return the mic and escape, but Huo Haicheng beat her to it—taking the mic, then handing her a full glass of wine.

He nudged her. “Go give Xun-ge a toast.”

Que Wanshu: “…”

She wanted to throw it in his face.

Seeing her hesitate, Huo Haicheng was about to push her when a female voice cut through the air:

“Que Wanshu.”

The room fell into stunned silence, then exploded in shock.

Some had already recognized her but didn’t dare confirm it without Wei Xun reacting. Others hadn’t seen her before, but everyone in their circle knew the name Que Wanshu—a cursed name, especially around Wei Xun.

So, the girl they all just mocked into singing was really Que Wanshu?

The woman who spoke wore a black dress and had long, flowing hair. She strode through the crowd in heels and stopped in front of Que Wanshu.

Tall and imposing—around 175 cm in heels—she blocked most of the stares aimed at Que Wanshu, including Wei Xun’s.

“Give it.” She took the wine glass from Que Wanshu, downed it in one gulp, then casually tossed the glass into Huo Haicheng’s arms.

Then she shot him a cold glare and grabbed Que Wanshu’s wrist.

“I’m taking you out.”

Que Wanshu obediently followed.

The cold-faced beauty seemed to hold considerable sway in this circle. Since Wei Xun didn’t say anything, no one dared stop them.

As Que Wanshu left, she could feel countless curious and intense gazes fixated on her—one in particular burned like it wanted to carve holes in her back.

But she never once turned around to look at him again.