Chapter 3: The Dragon Gate

**Chapter 2: The Fallen Lady of the City – “I’m not a beggar. I was robbed, lost my money, then accidentally ate poisoned porridge.”** Zhu Minglang hurried to explain.

“What difference does it make? She’s already achieved her goal.” The Empress spoke coldly.

“What goal?”

Zhu Minglang barely finished asking before he realized how stupid the question sounded.

What goal could there possibly be?

If the Empress were overthrown, there were countless ways to humiliate her—this being one of the cruelest. To force her, the once-untouchable sovereign, to share a bed with a man from the lowest rung of society—someone so destitute he didn’t even have a name. That single act would shatter the image she’d spent a lifetime building: the divine, unapproachable warrior queen. Suddenly, she wasn’t sacred. She was *dirty*. *Cheap*.

Now even the most wretched rat on the street could curl up beside the goddess of war—so what was she, really? Oh, wait—prostitutes at least had *choice*. At least they picked their clients.

The realization hit Zhu Minglang like a slap. He let out a dry laugh—half amusement, half despair.

So that’s what he’d become: the ultimate insult weapon. No free lunch in this world, huh?

“Wait,” he suddenly said, voice tight. “There were other refugees who passed out with me. Did they… get the same treatment?”

The moment the words left his mouth, the Empress’ eyes flashed like blades. Her teeth clenched so hard he heard them grind.

“You want to die? I’ll grant it right now.”

She wanted nothing more than to tear him apart—except she was too weak. Too poisoned. Too broken.

“Cough. Cough.” Zhu Minglang rubbed the back of his neck, cursing himself for opening that particular wound.

The Empress stood motionless, dazed, hollow-eyed. But after a few seconds, her gaze sharpened. She fixed her stare on the tiny window high above—her mind already calculating escape routes.

She still hated him. Wanted to kill him. But something in his words had sparked a thread of hope: *there were others.* Other men brought in. Not just him.

If they kept bringing different ones in every night, she’d rather bite through her own tongue than endure another humiliation.

She had to get out. Last night had been hell—and it was only the beginning.

“We need to get out of here,” Zhu Minglang said seriously.

The Empress didn’t respond. She wasn’t screaming. Didn’t cry. Didn’t collapse into madness. That didn’t mean she wasn’t shattered inside. It just meant she was holding it all in—waiting until she could survive, until she could reclaim power, before letting the grief and rage flood out.

Zhu Minglang felt a strange sense of guilt. After all, *she* had initiated things last night…
But still. They needed to escape.

“Great! Little guy, you’re awake!” Zhu Minglang suddenly exclaimed, grinning.

He opened his palm—like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat—and revealed a small, milky-white worm.

The creature was round, its body rippling with soft, translucent fat that shimmered faintly under the dim light. As it wriggled, it looked almost comically chubby, its enormous black eyes blinking rapidly, giving it an oddly intelligent, endearing expression.

The Empress glanced at him, then at the worm. A cold snort escaped her lips.

*Naive optimism.* Playing with bugs while trapped in a dungeon? How utterly ridiculous.

“Go on,” Zhu Minglang whispered. “Open the lock. I know you can.”

The little ice worm scurried up the stone wall, climbing effortlessly toward the iron bars of the window.

*Clank… clank… clang.*

A few seconds later, the chain fell away with a metallic ring.

The Empress’ eyes lit up instantly. Her face betrayed pure joy—something she hadn’t shown since captivity began.

“Hehe, my little ice worm’s unstoppable,” Zhu Minglang grinned at her.

“Help me up,” she said, voice strained.

She was weak—clearly poisoned by some lingering aphrodisiac. Barefoot, she stepped onto Zhu Minglang’s shoulders, struggling to climb out of the dungeon.

Once clear, she paused. Turned back. Looked at him.

Zhu Minglang stood below, silent, watching.

And then she turned again—walked away without a word, leaving him behind in the dark.

*Abandoned. Again.*

The dungeon walls were smooth as glass. Without help, no one could climb out.

“Women,” Zhu Minglang sighed, shaking his head. “The prettier they are, the less you can trust them.”

Just as he was about to summon the ice worm to spin silk for a rope, a soft, cat-like footstep echoed above him.

Then—lightness.

“Put this on. I’ll pull you up.”

From somewhere deep in the dungeon, she’d found two burlap sacks. Tore them open. Threw one over her shoulder, wrapped the other around herself like a makeshift dress.

Zhu Minglang’s face broke into a smile. He slipped into the sack, grabbed her hand—slender, trembling, but strong.

After a whole night of tangled limbs and feverish heat… well, at least they’d made it *out*.

Once he was up, the Empress collapsed against the wall, panting. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The poison still burned in her veins. Even a warrior of her stature was now helpless—no different from any frail woman.

“Stay quiet,” she whispered. “Follow me. Don’t make a sound.”

“Do you know your way?” Zhu Minglang asked softly.

“I used to keep myself locked in here.”

Zhu Minglang blinked.

*You… imprisoned yourself?*

*Are you insane?*

But the Empress knew every twist, every hidden passage. Even without guards, Zhu Minglang would’ve been lost in the labyrinthine depths of the dungeon.

Eventually, they found a secret tunnel—narrow, damp, crawling with spiders—and emerged beyond the city walls.

Outside, Zhu Minglang smeared dirt across his face and hands. Then, with a smirk, he dabbed two streaks of mud across the Empress’ pale cheeks.

“Come on,” he said. “My place is close. We’ll rest there.”

She didn’t answer. But she didn’t refuse either. A silent yes.

They walked through the night, feet heavy, minds numb.

Soon, they saw patrols—soldiers riding in waves down the road. The news had spread. She’d escaped.

Three days and three nights of nonstop travel. No sleep. No rest. Just running.

Finally, they reached Xiaosang Village—a cluster of silkworm farmers tucked between hills and rivers. Traders from distant cities came here for raw silk and cocoons. Over time, the village grew—crowded, chaotic, full of strangers.

Perfect for hiding.

As soon as Zhu Minglang stepped into his small courtyard, he flopped onto his bed and was asleep in seconds.

The Empress dragged two chairs together, lay down, and stared at the ceiling.

Exhausted. Haunted. Shattered.

She didn’t sleep right away. Instead, she replayed the past few days—the betrayal, the violation, the shame. Tears welled in her eyes, slipping silently down her temples.

Meanwhile, Zhu Minglang stirred in his sleep. His snoring stopped.

He opened his eyes.

Turned his head.

Saw her—side-lying, curled slightly, one eyelash catching a glimmer of moonlight.

A single tear glistened at the corner of her eye.

He exhaled softly.

They’d shared bodies, not hearts.
But still—he felt something.

To him, it had been a bad meal, a night in a dungeon, a long run.
To her?
She was the former ruler of Yongcheng. Her power stolen. Her honor stolen. Now hiding in a stinking little hut filled with the smell of rotting mulberry leaves and silkworm droppings.

Her calm. Her silence. Her moments of staring blankly into space—it wasn’t forgetting.
It was *holding on*.
Every ounce of fury, every shred of humiliation, was being stored—forged into something colder, sharper, deadlier.

Revenge.

And when the time came, she wouldn’t just rise again.

She’d burn everything down.