I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 273: Transcendent Qing (10)

The Empress Dowager tightly clasped Qing’s hand.

Whether it was because her hand was always cold from her martial cultivation, the warmth now coursing through it felt unbearably hot—almost scalding.

“To see you like this, looking just as you did in your prime... it’s like a dream. Well? You’ve seen your mother. Have you nothing to say?”

“Uh, well...”

Qing’s eyes rolled around, scrambling for a response.

The Empress Dowager smiled with gentle warmth.

“Speak freely. What’s there to hesitate over between mother and daughter?”

“Then, could I maybe put some clothes on first...?”

“Good heavens. What is there to be ashamed of before your own mother? I see... Even after losing your memory, your body still knows shame. But before, you were never like this...”

“‘So-hal’...?”

“Yes, Sohal. That’s the name you’ve forgotten. Written like this in Chinese characters. You probably don’t recognize it anymore.”

The Empress Dowager traced the character onto Qing’s palm.

It was unmistakably complex, with an absurd number of strokes.

Sohal—meaning a snow-white oriole carved from jade.

Royal names began with grace, and the nobility of such characters meant no commoner could ever use them without risking treason.

That was why imperial families, out of a kind of mercy, crafted their children’s names from the rarest characters that wouldn’t be heard in the mouths of common folk.

“Well, sure, but seriously... Can I put something on first?”

“Tsk, tsk. Are you so ashamed of the body your mother gave you? Full breasts are the sign of a mother capable of embracing the world. A generous rear is a divine gift for fruitful childbirth. And yet, my daughter insists on hiding it all away.”

“No, that’s not it at all...”

Qing wasn’t ashamed of her body.

Every time she caught her reflection in still water or polished bronze, she found herself stunned all over again by a beauty that remained startling and electric no matter how often she saw it.

She could finally understand the foreign legend of that vain deity named Na who drove his mother mad by staring at his reflection for all twelve months of the year.

It wasn’t shame that made her cover up—it was simply awkward, standing naked in front of someone she didn’t even know.

And it was made far worse by the woman claiming to be her mother, who was now staring at her with such aching tenderness, like she wanted to memorize every last hair and pore.

“So it feels awkward, does it? Even with your mother right here, you feel no pang in your heart? This mother of yours... From the very first day that imposter set foot in the palace, I knew something was wrong.”

The woman those deceitful bitches had brought to her, claiming it was her recovered daughter, had the same build and resembled her face somewhat—though clearly damaged by illness. There were traces of former beauty.

But somehow, some primal, ineffable instinct, a mother’s transcendent sense, kept whispering that something was off. No matter how she looked, she couldn’t see her daughter in that girl.

And then one day, a maid who served the princess whispered something strange. That under her chest, the twin birthmarks had spread and joined into one.

That snapped her awake like a bolt of lightning.

She knew it at once: those cursed monks had used some vile sorcery to wrap her daughter’s skin around some demonic creature.

If she’d had no other children, she would’ve gone to war with them and died taking that witch down.

But she feared harm would come to the ones who remained, so she held her tongue, swallowing her grief.

Then her beloved daughter appeared to her in a dream, stirring her to offer prayers. That’s what brought her here to Shaolin.

She hadn’t heard a word about her daughter’s whereabouts since then, and the anxiety had been eating her alive. She opened the carriage curtain to check for any news—and the moment she saw Qing, she flung the door open and leapt out.

Her legs buckled from beneath her. She didn’t care for dignity or titles. She fell—hard—and didn’t feel a thing. She only scrambled forward, chasing the glimpse of her daughter.

The massive chest and hips her daughter had hated and always tried to hide since childhood—she would’ve recognized those even if they’d changed.

That slender, fragile waist that looked like it would snap in two.

And most of all, the face—still bearing the flawless beauty of before her illness. Even more beautiful now, yet unmistakably hers.

Lady, why am I even hearing all this?

Qing felt her heart growing heavier by the moment.

She hadn’t meant to steal anyone’s body. The original soul had already died. This was more like... a takeover? An unclaimed corpse adoption?

If she were honest, she was a glorified grave robber.

And now, hearing this tale soaked in motherly agony—it left her gut churning with guilt.

So Qing decided to steer the conversation away.

“Um, by the way, am I really of age now? I kind of guessed—I didn’t actually know my real age.”

“Oh, you are. You shot up like a stalk of bamboo as a child. By ten, you were taller than your mother. I thought maybe... you were growing so fast just to show me how you’d look when you were grown, before it was too late. So when you fell ill, I grieved: Why must my daughter leave before her mother?”

Qing nodded along and swallowed a dry little groan. The conversation had finally returned to safer waters.

Wait, so... When I first woke up here—five years ago—that made me sixteen?

Sixteen, huh. No wonder it felt like her breasts had grown.

That was prime development age.

“So, how did you live, out in the world? Those deceitful monks said... Well, not all of it was lies. They claimed once the ritual was complete, you would live a long, illness-free life, and if your qi core awakened, you’d become the greatest martial artist under the heavens. Even the Grand Eunuch himself was said to be in awe of your achievements. So, isn’t it a blessing you survived, even out there?”

“Yeah. I kind of just... made do and lived well enough.”

“Child! Can’t ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) you tell your own mother everything?”

Well, what was she supposed to say?

That getting gang-beaten by beggars was a daily affair?

That she survived on food scraps and, failing that, gnawed on poisonous mushrooms and random leaves?

That when even that didn’t work, she filled her belly with muddy water and practiced beggar survival like it was an art?

“Um... I had a rough start, but I adjusted quickly. And then my Master—ah, you wouldn’t know her name. Ximen Surin of the Divine Maiden Sect. The most powerful woman in all the lands. She took me in. After that, I had plenty to eat and lived really well.”

“So not only did Buddha watch over you, but even the Immortals lent you their aid. I must offer more than prayers—ancestral rites, yes. I must hold proper rites!”

“Ah, I don’t think that’s really necessary...”

“No! They returned a dead child to her mother—what could I not do in return? Now, what else happened?”

“Well... I made lots of friends. Traveled a lot. Ah—do you know Mount Hua? Turns out it’s not the Hua Mountain you’d expect...”

Qing played along and spun tales of wonders she’d seen in Zhongyuan.

She left out the suffering, of course, thinking the Empress Dowager would imagine her roaming the world in peace and comfort.

Of course, that wasn’t possible.

The Empress Dowager may have lived sheltered, but she wasn’t stupid.

She could see straight through the sanitized tale—and found it all the more touching that Qing had tried to protect her from worry.

“So, you play the flute, don’t you? Will you grace your mother with a tune?”

“Ah. Yes, of course.”

Qing picked up the Blessed Spirit Flute and hesitated for a moment.

She was still naked—since the Empress Dowager had yet to allow her to dress—but for some reason, holding the flute helped settle the awkwardness.

But seriously, what was with the no-clothes rule?

Was there some weird Zhongyuan tradition of naked family bonding?

Or was this some imperial quirk?

Of course, it wasn’t either of those.

The Empress Dowager’s last image of her daughter had been a body ravaged by a deadly illness.

She was simply searching for any sign of remaining scars—looking with a mother’s eye, desperate for reassurance.

Qing tried to decide what to play.

Something about a mother’s love? Was that even the title? She hadn’t cared to remember it.

So she hummed the lyrics to herself, then began to breathe life into the Blessed Spirit Flute—its sound as ethereal and haunting as the heavens themselves.

When she bore me, she forgot her pain,

When she raised me, she labored day and night,

She taught me to be true and just—

Giving me the dry spot, taking the damp herself,

Oh, the grace of my...

...Master?

Qing blinked. But she kept playing.

The music had to go on.

Oh, I shall repay the grace... of my Master.

And then... Qing suddenly had no idea anymore.

Wait. Where had this gone wrong?

Why was the chorus about... a Master? That wasn’t right, was it?

Was it supposed to be “thankful”? Or “longing”? Ugh. Damn it. No way to check.

No one in this world would understand anyway, but embarrassed now, Qing quickly shifted to the next tune.

She moved on to the spinning carousel song of that Mr. Cho from the island nation—well, the Mr. Cho who would be born there in the future—and followed it up with a few hazy old masterpieces from her homeland she could barely remember.

“My goodness... When did you grow so big? Well, your body was fully grown long ago, but still...”

Tears began streaming again from the Empress Dowager’s eyes.

Ugh. Lady, don’t make me soft.

But still—some things couldn’t be allowed, no matter what.

Qing steeled herself before her wavering heart could slip.

If it were a complete stranger, someone she didn’t know at all, maybe she could’ve faked being their daughter out of pity.

Just like how she humored her senile old grandfather sometimes.

But to the Empress Dowager, who was now looking at her daughter’s body—left behind by the real soul—Qing couldn’t do it.

At least, she shouldn’t.

And yet her heart kept waffling.

Wasn’t this no different from her grandfather, really?

But did a body thief even have the right to such feelings?

In the end, unable to bring herself to be cruel, Qing just went along with it—matching the rhythm, nodding here and there, letting time slip away without resistance.

And the one who finally saved her... was Qing herself.

More precisely, her empty stomach, which let out a deafening growl well past dinner time in protest of being ignored.

Grrrrrrk!!! (Feed me, damn it!!!)

“Oh heavens! My poor daughter, starving! And I—your mother—didn’t even realize! Oh, what kind of mother am I...”

And then came the tears. Again.

“No, no, it just sounds really loud, that’s all. I’m just a little peckish, really.”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just... We’ve been granted this divine reunion by Heaven, and I haven’t even had the chance to share a proper meal with my daughter. That sorrow is what’s bringing me to tears.”

“Uh... can’t we just... eat together?”

The Empress Dowager gave her a tearful smile, lips trembling.

“No. Palace affairs are no trivial matter. Even just keeping you this long will already draw attention. I’ve completely lost track of time. Foolish of me. If I could say I knew it was you because I’m your mother, that might be excused—but it wasn’t that. If anyone realizes the truth, danger might fall upon you again. So we must part ways here.”

“Oh. I see...”

Was she... finally free?

“Yes. My daughter. Don’t worry about anything. Just live well—wearing fine clothes, eating delicious food, seeing beautiful things. Wait in peace, in comfort. Your mother will retrieve everything you were meant to have.”

The look in the Empress Dowager’s eyes as she said it—

It wasn’t the gaze of a gentle mother. It was the gaze of a venomous viper, of a woman who would raze heaven and earth to take what was hers.

Qing startled and quickly tried to stop her.

“Ah—there’s no need for that. I’ve already chosen to live as Ximen Qing, disciple of the Divine Maiden Sect—”

“No, child. That mustn’t be. To be born with the blood of the Son of Heaven means to carry the will of Heaven itself. If you try to reject it, that in itself becomes a grave sin. How could I, your mother, stand by and watch such a thing?”

“No, really, I’m perfectly fine as I am. I’m living well now—very well, actually. So please, don’t trouble yourself—”

“My daughter. Before we part... let me hold you. Let me hold you just once.”

Nope. This was hopeless.

She wasn’t going to listen to a damn thing.

Please don’t go off and do something crazy...

But even as Qing tried to say more, she instinctively knew:

Nothing she said would be heard.

And something troublesome would definitely come of this sooner or later.

Still... Whatever. Screw it.

Qing gave up trying to talk her out of it and simply sank into her embrace.