readytorunbook Chapter 483 Pregnant
Chapter 483 Pregnant
"So what kind of help do you need? Do you need me to help you rise to power and then slap that man in the face?"
Lin Liu thought to herself, "Isn't this the formula for all the recent short dramas?"
You used to discard me like a worn-out shoe, but now you can't even reach me.
"No, please don't!" Yin Mingyue shouted, crossing her arms in protest.
"I don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Why would I want to embarrass myself, go back to him, and then get entangled in a messy, messy relationship? I don't want that kind of life! Since we've broken up, I should forget him completely. Shouldn't the best ex be like they're dead?"
Yin Mingyue had thought it through clearly; she didn't want to have anything to do with Gu Zhun anymore.
She was deceived before and didn't know about Gu Zhun's affairs.
Now that it's over, let's cut it off completely.
Lin Liuyi was a little disappointed by Yin Mingyue's clean and decisive rejection, but she respected the other party's choice.
As her articles continued to be distributed by the system, she soon found her next reader.
"Do you need help?" Lin Liuyi asked, looking at the somewhat disheveled person opposite him.
"I need some medication to help prevent miscarriage!" the person on the other end immediately said.
Lin Liuyi quickly instructed the system to give the other party a bottle of pregnancy-preserving pills. The woman who received the item immediately put one into her mouth.
After realizing that her stomach pain had subsided, she quickly thanked Lin Liuyi.
After realizing that the other party had no desire to talk, Lin Liu had no choice but to cut off contact with them.
At this moment, Shen Qinghe, who was still sitting on the ground, carefully stroked her belly.
She recalled the day she arrived here, when the sound of shattering glass was drowned out by the deafening explosions of fireworks.
Shen Qinghe knelt on the cold marble floor, listening to the eunuch's shrill voice reading the imperial edict.
"Shen Qinghe, relying on favor, is arrogant and morally deficient... Effective immediately, she is demoted to commoner status and relocated to the Yongxiang Palace. This is the imperial decree—"
Outside the palace, dazzling fireworks lit up the night sky, and the entire harem was celebrating her downfall.
Ten years of favor, overthrown in an instant, all in the blink of an eye.
Shen Qinghe neither cried nor begged for mercy.
She simply kowtowed calmly: "Your Majesty, I obey the decree."
As she stood up, she caught a glimpse of the barely concealed joy on the faces of the palace servants who had once groveled before her.
Even her most trusted personal maid, Biyu, had long since disappeared—it was later learned that she had taken Shen Qinghe's last bit of valuables and gone to join the newly favored Consort Liu.
The heavy palace gates of Yongxiang closed behind her, the chains rattling, as if completely severing the once infinitely favored Consort Shen.
The days in the cold palace were more unbearable than I had imagined.
A leaky roof, moldy walls, a hard, uncomfortable wooden bed, and spoiled food.
In the first few days, Shen Qinghe couldn't sleep at all. Listening to the cries and screams of the madwomen in the next courtyard, she felt like she was going crazy too.
But she didn't.
By the tenth day, she had already learned to mend the window paper herself, wash clothes with water from the old well in the yard, and even tried to plant some wild vegetables in the desolate corner of the courtyard.
Occasionally, a eunuch would bring her some leftovers, but he looked at her as if she were some filthy garbage.
Shen Qinghe never complained, but silently accepted it.
All she wants now is to live.
It wasn't until the beginning of the third month after he was deposed that, on that morning, the old eunuch, as usual, brought him a bowl of porridge with no discernible ingredients.
As soon as Shen Qinghe took it, a strong feeling of nausea surged up her throat without warning.
She rushed to the door, retching violently, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.
This vomiting lasted for several days.
He would vomit up any food he put in his mouth shortly after, and he was so weak that he could barely get out of bed.
My period is almost two months late.
As Shen Qinghe touched her flat stomach, an unimaginable thought surfaced in her mind.
She took off a fine silver bracelet that she had hidden very well on her wrist—the only old item she had successfully hidden before being sent to the cold palace—and used it to bribe the old eunuch who delivered her meals every day.
The next day, the old eunuch secretly slipped her a packet of old red silk thread.
In the stillness of the night, Qinghe followed the ancient method of pregnancy testing that the old nanny in the palace had once told her, tied a silk thread around her wrist, and held her breath to feel for it.
At first there was nothing, but just when she was about to give up, a very subtle yet absolutely unmistakable pulsation came from the other end of the thread, gently touching her fingertips.
She jerked her hand back as if she had been burned.
In the darkness, she sat quietly for a long time, her palm slowly resting on her lower abdomen.
It is still flat, but if you touch it carefully, you can feel a different kind of suppleness than before.
A cold and complex smile finally crept onto her chapped lips.
“Interesting,” she murmured to herself, her voice hoarse yet sharp. “I’d like to see who loses their temper first this time.”
Whether it was the old eunuch who leaked the news or her increasingly obvious morning sickness that drew attention, the atmosphere in the Cold Palace quietly changed.
The meals that were delivered occasionally contained a little meat, though they were still cold; the patrolling guards passed by her dilapidated courtyard gate more often than usual; and one day, she even found an old but clean and thick cotton quilt in the courtyard.
Shen Qinghe just sneered and, as usual, threw away the food of dubious origin.
She was waiting.
Waiting for the inevitable storm.
There was no moon that night, and a fierce wind howled, rattling the old windows.
Qinghe was vomiting into a broken earthenware pot—her morning sickness was getting worse and worse, almost emptying her internal organs.
Just then, a loud bang!
The dilapidated door, which was on the verge of collapse, was kicked open from the outside!
A figure was swept into the courtyard by a gust of wind, and the light from lanterns and torches instantly tore through the darkness, revealing a person's gloomy face.
"I've heard that Consort De—"
Consort Liu's voice was icy, filled with undisguised disgust and a hint of barely perceptible anger.
But Qinghe didn't let her finish speaking.
Another wave of intense nausea surged through her, and she couldn't control herself—or perhaps she didn't want to—and abruptly bent over.
"vomit--!"
Not a single drop of the accumulated sour and foul filth was wasted; it was all sprayed onto the hem of that incomparably noble garment.
The filthy stains spread rapidly, and a pungent odor filled the air.
Time seemed to stand still.
All the accompanying eunuchs and guards were terrified, and they all knelt down on the ground, burying their heads deep in the earth, wishing they could disappear into a crack in the ground.
The palace servant holding the lantern trembled, causing the light and shadow to shake violently.
Consort Liu froze on the spot, looking down in disbelief at the filth on the hem of her robe. Her face turned from pale to red, and finally to a horrifying deathly white.
She suddenly looked up, her gaze like a sharp blade shooting towards Qinghe.
She weakly wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and slowly straightened up.
Her face was as pale as paper, and her forehead was covered with fine sweat from violent vomiting. Only her eyes were surprisingly bright. There was no fear or pleading in them, only an almost insane, mocking calm, which met Consort Liu's gaze directly.