Becoming the Empress: Golden Finger Set Under My Bed

Translator: Storm in a Teacup

With a swallow, Ye Chengzhi said nervously, “Lord, given the wound on the back side of her head, Miss An’s passing out, as I see it, may be due to the physical exhaustion. As for other complications, we can do nothing but to wait. If Miss An can wake up tomorrow, she will recover soon. If she can’t...”

Upon hearing his words, Hong Yu, clenching his robe, asked in a hurry, “What will happen to her then!”

Ye Chengzhi answered in calmness after a sigh, “Only God knows.”

Everybody was silent.

The lingering sound in the air reduced to whisper gradually, then disappearing without a trace all of a sudden. Looking around at the endless curtain of whiteness, An Rushuang frowned heavily.

This was not the An family, neither was somewhere in the desert. With everything covered by heavy fog, it was totally impossible to discern the directions.

Clad in thin clothes, she didn’t feel chilly. Treading on something soft, like the cripples on water surface, An Rushuang couldn’t feel the gravity at all---where was she now?

“Is anybody here?” She walked slowly, step by step, in the thick and prison-like fog, streams of delicate aroma floating to her nose even without a single flower all around.

“Amitabha, please stop, benefactor.” There suddenly came a pious sound, echoing in the boundless space.

Following the sound, An Rushuang exerted herself to search for its source but failed at last. With the voice seemingly twisted by the mist, she couldn’t tell the gender nor the age of the speaker. “Who are you?” An Rushuang asked loudly in bewilderment, but didn’t stop walking.

“Dead end in the front. Stop at once, benefactor.”

The sound appeared again. Dead end? An Rushuang looked down, her eyes sparkling with dark light. It was so weird that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t touch the ground with her hand which felt quite soft when walking on it. She finally gave up until being a little out of breath.

An Rushuang kept stepping forward.

The sound turned up the third time. “Since I can’t see the road clearly, it’s very likely that what I am treading on now is not a road, either. Such being the case, why should I mind whether there is a road forward?

The sound burst out after a pause. “Since you can stand here, that means there is a road before you. The reason why I say it’s dead end in the front is I can see it clearly. If you, blind to the truth, insist going forward, you will surely fall into the abyss and face your doom.

Holding her head high, An Rushuang stared at the hazy fog, and pouted slightly with a tinge of contempt.

“How can I know whether you are lying? I can’t trust someone who dares not to stand out.” An Rushuang said in resoluteness.

Outside the fog, a monk clad in cassock was sitting upright, beneath him stretching a a rippling lake.

As if floating on the water surface, he kept his eyes close, his face full of compassion. Then, he opened his eyes slowly, a wisp of golden gleam shimmering in his eyes. As soon as his set eyes on the water, the ripples turned to earth at once. The fog began to disperse gradually.

Right before An Rushuang, not more than a step, was the bluff hundred meters wide. Strong wind howled below the cliff as the painful screech of numerous spirits.

“This is the truth you want to see.”

The monk said slowly, staring at her on the other side of the cliff. Though he was sitting afar, his voice seemed to explode right beside An Rushuang’s ears.

As the fog dispersed suddenly, the ground turned hard. With the earth breaking apart due to the fathomless abyss, it seemed completely impossible for An Rushuang to cross over.

She held back her breath before stopping at the side and gazing at the monk clad in cassock. “Who are you? Where am I now?”

The monk, still expressionless, drawled, “My name is Unutterable. This place is Forbidden To Leave. But it is not yet too late for you to leave now.”

With her mouth going dry, An Rushuang couldn’t utter a word for a long time before asking the monk, “Where should I return?”

Suddenly, there was a weak sound humming around, seemingly from underneath the ground. With dozens of little mounds appearing one after one, green sprouts struggled to rise from within before stretching their twisted bodies with efforts like human beings, growing higher and higher slowly, various branches and leaves springing up afterward...

They finally stopped growing until they were as long as half of the arm of a person. An Rushuang looked around at the luxuriant green on the yellow earth.

On the other side of the cliff, the monk was still sitting on the boundless earth, his blood red cassock like a blossom.

“Turn around and look at the road. This is where you came from.”

An Rushuang turned in doubt, noticing a winding path wide enough to accommodate one single person, at the end of which seemingly located some red walls and glazed golden tiles. Though as far as that, An Rushuang realized at once it was the royal palace.

Feeling a little cold, An Rushuang turned to look at the monk before shouting in anger, “Okay, since you don’t want to reveal your name, will you tell me who sent you here?”

Given his devilishness, An Rushuang almost made sure he was an evil wizard instead of a common monk, or how did he know she came from the royal palace? Maybe he had learned about her previous life.

An Rushuang, lost in thought, couldn’t help feeling upset.

“I came here because I heard the benefactor is in trouble. There is no one ordering me to come,” he said calmly, without the faintest anger.

“Really?” An Rushuang chuckled while staring at the abyss ahead, and actually took a step forward slowly. The scattered rocks rolled downward one after another. Nearly half of An Rushuang’s shoe with delicate embroidery was sticking out of the brim, looking like she might crash down at any moment.

“If just as you said, my karma is the abyss right here, I would rather crash down than return to the royal palace!”

The green leaves on the vines floated to the ground slowly and mixed with the earth, deepening its color gradually. On the bare branches, buds were blooming, the long and slim petals, as red as fresh blood, opening more and more widely, making the woods a sea of crimson.

“Higan bana blooms, merely for guiding the souls,” the monk said in peace, “Every step you take forward, there will be someone dying because of you. Even so, do you still refuse to turn around?”