Chapter 1973: Chapter 1911: Many Want Your Life

The Cold Palace is the place in this royal palace that terrifies the concubines the most. Once inside, the chance of rising again is minuscule.

Women who stay in the Cold Palace for long either die quietly, grow old, or go mad. Those who remain clear-minded are exceptionally strong-willed.

Empress Song entered this dreadful place and was tormented to exhaustion within a few days, becoming exceedingly thin.

What kind of place is the Cold Palace? It has its fair share of dead bodies, more mad people, and frequently echoes with ghostly wails, especially when a sudden howl breaks the night, waking anyone.

Empress Song is already pregnant and lacking sleep. Being startled by those mad women’s cries might be bearable, but the most terrifying thing is when you’re asleep, and suddenly someone in white, with disheveled hair, grabs your hand or leans over your face. Being scared to death isn’t a mere exaggeration.

Empress Song experienced this several times yet never adapted, remaining constantly on edge, exceptionally tense. Lacking proper nutrition, how could she have energy?

The Cold Palace is not a place for anyone to stay.

Empress Song stands behind a window with a hole in the wall, gazing at the pitch-black night sky. Today is Chinese New Year’s Eve; why aren’t there any fireworks?

Indeed, the tyrant, half-dead, had just lost several wretched children; how could there be fireworks and celebrations for the New Year?

Empress Song snorts coldly, turns, and lies back on her bed. Her stomach growls; she’s starving.

She glances down, furrows her brows; at this rate, can she really carry the child to term?

Lost in errant thoughts, Empress Song eventually falls asleep.

Suddenly, she feels suffocated; her neck aches painfully.

Opening her eyes, someone is fiercely choking her – a mad woman, glaring viciously, screeches, "Vicious woman, die, die! I am the real empress!"

Empress Song is shocked into a stupor, fiercely kicks and pushes back.

Yet, this struggle leaves her more vulnerable, collapsing onto the floor as the mad woman sits atop her abdomen.

Empress Song lets out a muffled groan, her eyes rolling.

Could she really die here like this?

Bang!

The mad woman is suddenly yanked off her, thrown onto the ground with a loud thud, showing no response, dead or alive unknown.

Empress Song coughs a few times, looking up to see an old eunuch with an ugly countenance before her, lowering his head to help her up.

"You, who are you?" Empress Song looks at him.

"Your Majesty, this is the first occurrence, but it won’t be the last. Are you sure you want to stay here?" the ugly old eunuch crouches down to ask.

Empress Song remains wary: "Who are you?"

"Who I am doesn’t matter; if Your Majesty wishes to leave, I can take you away."

Empress Song says nothing. She is not foolish, will not easily trust the person before her; who knows if this isn’t a test from the tyrant.

Seeing her remain silent, the old eunuch doesn’t insist, saying, "Think carefully." Then he retrieves two steaming meat buns from his robe, handing them to her.

"Your Majesty, in this palace, many desire your death. Being in the Cold Palace, such matters aren’t uncommon; no one will investigate," the old eunuch drags the mad woman to the door, speaking again.

Empress Song’s body trembles, pursing her lips, instinctively clutching the buns in her hands.

Who wants her dead?

Empress Song thinks of the women in the harem, her face darkens.

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