Chapter 37

Clear knocking sounds came from outside the hall.

“Come in.”

It was Lamassu and the others, bringing the medicinal soup and the congee prepared according to Ye Zhiqing’s request. Kneeling on the floor with heads bowed, they arranged the items one by one and quickly withdrew.

Ye Zhiqing turned and took the congee from the edge of the pool, handing it to Edith. “Your Majesty knew the medicine was tampered with, so why…”

Lifting her head, Ye Zhiqing stared intently at Edith, her eyes filled with an obvious sense of interrogation. It was impossible for Edith to be in such a passive position.

The Pharaoh of Egypt held the four powers of military, civil administration, finance, and religion in one person. Even if some power was scattered, it was negligible to an Edith who held a heavy military force.

After all, Egypt had fought abroad for ten years without any major internal chaos—every instance of dissent had been forcefully suppressed by Edith through military might.

The warm current flowed slowly, soothing her exhausted body. After forcing down a few sips of the congee, Edith set the bowl aside.

Her thoughtful gaze fell on the water ahead. Her blurred silhouette, shrouded in white mist, traced a faint air of melancholy in the air as she remained silent.

Proactively leaning closer, Ye Zhiqing reached out and touched the smooth curve of Edith’s shoulder. Their wet, curly hair intertwined on their pressed arms. “Your Majesty Edith, you said you wanted me to trust you unreservedly.”

Within the rippling layers of the water circulated a sincerity and trust that had shed all defenses.

After Ye Zhiqing finished speaking these gentle words, Edith turned her head. Faint golden specks of light gradually gathered, enveloping Ye Zhiqing, showing a few parts caution and a few parts irrepressible joy.

Suddenly, Edith leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto Ye Zhiqing’s smooth forehead.

Edith pulled the woman completely into her embrace, her soft sigh brushing tenderly against Ye Zhiqing’s ear. “When I was still at the border, they had already begun to tamper with my food. And in the ten years since returning to Thebes, it has never stopped.”

Her pupils shook violently. An unbearable, sharp pain bloomed beneath her ribs. Ye Zhiqing trembled and tried to turn around, but she was held firmly in Edith’s arms, unable to move.

An intense bitterness surged into her throat. Ye Zhiqing’s lips moved several times, but she could not make a sound.

As if sensing the panic and helplessness of the person in her arms, Edith rested her head on Ye Zhiqing’s shoulder, her tone slowing with a hint of consolation. “I only noticed the abnormality two years ago. Based on the symptoms manifested by my body, it has likely been over ten years.”

Edith paused, letting Ye Zhiqing’s long hair slide through her fingers. “Regardless of what they have done, I have been fine for over ten years. Just as you saw, despite such a heavy injury, I could wake up this quickly.”

Understanding Edith’s facade of ease, Ye Zhiqing’s black eyes grew dark. Her fingertips traced circles in Edith’s palm. “Majesty, do you know that one of the ingredients in your medicine is poppy shell?”

“I know.” Edith’s expression remained unchanged, and she made no other move. Her posture was lazy and casual, yet sharp cold light simmered in the depths of her eyes.

Ten years. Ye Zhiqing didn’t dare imagine to what extent the unknown substances hidden in Edith’s body had accumulated, even if it was just bit by bit.

Yesterday afternoon, Ye Zhiqing had suddenly appeared at the pharmacy and took over the task of brewing Edith’s medicine. Before the herbs in the clay pot were even fully boiled down, Ye Zhiqing was stunned to find the bottom of the pot lined with poppy shells.

The poppy was revered by Ancient Egyptians as the “Divine Flower.” Using poppies in medicine as an analgesic, sedative, and sleeping agent was common among the Egyptian nobility.

But the dosage of poppy shells in Edith’s medicinal soup was clearly wrong. A medical priest could not possibly be ignorant [unauthorized copy]of the consequences of excessive use.

While the morphine content in poppy shells is not high and the purity is low, some people are naturally highly sensitive to addictive drugs. Long-term consumption inevitably leads to chronic poisoning and eventual addiction.

However, the symptoms Edith manifested were not entirely consistent with poppy shell consumption alone. Ye Zhiqing guessed that stimulant-like herbs had also been added, which was why Edith could act as if nothing were wrong after a severe injury, only to become weaker than an average person once the drug’s effect wore off.

“Majesty, who are they? Is it the Temple or other officials?” Ye Zhiqing’s expression was frozen. She interrupted Edith’s consolation with a hint of irritability; clearly, she did not want Edith to bypass this matter easily.

Since Edith had discovered the abnormality two years ago but had taken no action, it could only mean that Edith herself was unsure of what exactly they had added.

Ye Zhiqing was entirely unaware that she currently looked like a cat with its fur standing on end. Her puffed-up appearance greatly pleased Edith, and a shallow smile perfectly masked the loneliness and desolation that should not have appeared on a Queen.

“My royal brother, Inanhote,” Edith’s indifferent tone seemed soaked in the unmelted snow of a mountain peak for years. Her usually unfathomable eyes were cast down.

Many years ago, she was already alone.

Ye Zhiqing struggled to turn around. Half-leaning against Edith’s body, she lifted her head to gaze at her. Her thoughts were chaotic yet clear—as if after drifting for twenty-three years in a sunless deep sea, she had been suddenly broken through by a ray of light.

The unfamiliar palpitation she had been suppressing gradually broke through the mist, becoming clearer by the day, blooming shyly yet firmly in her heart.

Ye Zhiqing was certain: it was not just a long-absent sense of belonging and reliance, but also a desire to accompany her for the rest of her life amidst the surging waves of her heart.

The monarch of the Egyptian Empire was born to bear the prosperity and shame of a vast empire, destined to be constantly under the prying eyes of countless ill-intentioned gazes. And Edith, disliked by her biological father from birth and exiled to the border as a child—Ye Zhiqing could not imagine how she had reached this point.

From a destitute outcast to the Queen of Egypt whom all looked up to, she had ruled for ten years. read the original at bailiantales.comUnder countless conspiracies and schemes, she had pushed Egypt toward an unprecedented peak of prosperity.

The complex emotions in her chest gradually converged into sweetness and bitterness. A moist, hoarse tremor carried her accumulated affection: “Your Majesty Edith, you still have me.”

Perhaps because the touch of her palm was too warm and soft, for the first time, Edith’s mind discarded the shackles of responsibility that constantly weighed upon her. In her eyes and heart, only the person before her remained. A long sigh escaped: “I still have you.”

It was as if a deep affection accumulated over countless long years had all melted into that close-range gaze.

The invisible, intangible barrier that had existed between them quietly dissipated.

After they finished bathing, Edith released Ye Zhiqing and stood by the pool to dress. Her posture was poised and candid, with no intention of avoiding Ye Zhiqing.

Fortunately, after dressing, Edith was the first to leave the hall.

Ye Zhiqing remained in the bath, her entire body flushed red—unsure if it was because the water was too hot or because she was embarrassed by a certain someone. Only after there was no sound behind her did she cautiously step onto the shore and dress herself.

Stepping out of the hall, she found Edith waiting to one side. The water droplets condensed on her eyelashes trembled. They looked at each other, a lingering tenderness between them.

Edith stood with her hands behind her back, a shallow smile on her face, waiting for Ye Zhiqing to draw near. She naturally took Ye Zhiqing’s hand, and with their hands clasped, they walked unhurriedly toward the sleeping quarters.

They did not speak along the way. Their long hair intertwined behind them, and the air seemed to ripple with a sweet scent.

Food had already been prepared in the bedroom. Ye Zhiqing insisted on Edith tasting several dishes.

Neither of them had slept all night. After bathing, weariness surged like a tide. Once their long hair was dry, Ye Zhiqing took the initiative to pull Edith onto the bed. She slept on the inner side, while Edith slept on the outer.

The curtains blocked the bright light, leaving only flickering, dim yellow shadows. Leaning against Edith’s arm, Ye Zhiqing fell into a deep sleep.

Edith waited until she heard the steady, long breathing of the person beside her. Her gentle, quiet gaze rested on Ye Zhiqing’s face, and a shallow smile overflowed from her lips.

Confirming the person beside her was in a deep sleep and would not wake again, Edith moved gently out of bed, changed into a white robe with gold trim, and left the Palace of Ra.

Situ was waiting outside the hall. The sun was fierce, and his nose, exposed to the light, was sunburnt red.

Seeing Edith emerge, Situ’s eyes held unconcealed worry. “King, aside from the excessive poppy shells, there was nothing else unusual in that medicinal material.”

Edith’s expression did not change, as if she had known it for a long time. She did not stop her steps. “To the dungeon.”

“King,” Situ followed closely behind, his voice filled with blunt concern. Clearly, he did not want Edith to go to the dungeon now.

Imperturbably retracting her coldness, Edith remained silent for a moment before speaking in a majestic tone that still betrayed no emotion: “General Situ, I am fine.”

In the deathly silent air came a thick scent of blood. The approaching steady footsteps made the figure slumped on the ground with twisted limbs move slightly.

Inside the heavily guarded cell, panic was magnified to the extreme by Edith’s arrival.

Edith took a gauze scarf and lightly covered her nose, turning her head. “Where was he intercepted?”

“Reporting to Your Majesty, at the border of Muto.”

The Muto border—the place where Inanhote was exiled.

Edith’s lips curled. Her cold gaze fell upon the twisted figure on the ground. In her slightly heavy laugh was undisguised mockery and contempt. “Priest Kabu, you know very well the consequences of betrayal.”

Edith’s voice was very low—so low it sounded like the echo of a small stone falling into an abyss, enticing panic and terror to breed wantonly in the cold, silent dungeon.

Cough, cough— The figure on the ground heard Edith’s voice and let out a rough, hoarse cough. At the same time, dark blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

His twisted limbs proclaimed the horrific punishment he had undergone. His crumbling, thin willpower collapsed completely upon Edith’s arrival.

He knew that only by seeing Edith could he potentially reduce the guilt of the family members he had implicated.

“Your Majesty Edith… please… mercy… Kar… nak…” The weak voice was intermittent, murky, and hollow—impossible to hear clearly.

Edith frowned and stepped closer.

“…”

Her deep black eyes suddenly trembled after hearing what Kabu said. A terrifying ripple surged from the depths of her eyes, only to return instantly to an unfathomable depth.

Turning around, Edith drew the longsword from a guard’s waist. Amidst several nearly imperceptible gasps, she threw it forward.

The figure on the ground twisted a few times and then stopped moving entirely.

Kabu was dead. That meant they had lost another clue they could trace. Situ did not understand the purpose behind Edith’s action.

Edith’s expression was frozen. She returned to the Palace of Ra alone, entered the council chamber, and instructed the female official nearby: “Find Princess Manefertiti. Have her come to the council chamber.”

“Yes.”