CHAPTER 524: 207 WITNESS THE MIRACLE_2

What a pity that I don’t know their name.

Someone like this won’t be buried and forgotten.

Perhaps originally confined to a small corner, like gold buried in sand, now on a grander stage, the gold shines with dazzling brilliance.

The world will see.

~

Xiao Yue wrapped up her bamboo grove scene. She had no more filming in the afternoon, but instead of returning to the hotel to rest, she stayed with the crew to observe the upcoming scenes.

She changed back into her own clothes, put on a mask, and blended in with the staff. She occasionally helped the props team with small tasks, carrying herself with no airs or pretense, her demeanor genuinely approachable.

It seemed as though being the leading actress meant she should carry herself with airs, looking down loftily at everyone else. But Xiao Yue deeply understood how fortunate she was to get this opportunity and dared not be arrogant at all.

At exactly two o’clock, Huang Chu arrived on set carrying his ever-present thermal cup.

The next scene was set on a wide road in the bamboo forest. The main prop was a simple elm-wood carriage, its body painted in understated dark red, with the door and two windows draped in green patterned curtains. It was a study in refined elegance and noble restraint.

The actor playing the coachman, skilled in horse handling, was building rapport with the horse pulling the carriage. The scene was quiet, everything proceeding in an orderly fashion.

Xiao Yue’s script was incomplete, so she didn’t know which scene was being filmed in the afternoon. However, judging by the director’s attentiveness, the actors involved must be quite significant.

She noticed that the surrounding crew members had suddenly multiplied—both men and women—forming a three-layered circle, all eyes trained in one direction, gazes fixed and enchanted.

Xiao Yue thought to herself, could it be the male lead, Chen Shucheng? Among all the actors, only he carried the heftiest reputation and widest recognition.

But hadn’t she heard from the staff that Chen Shucheng was abroad filming a commercial and had postponed his arrival on set? Supposedly, he wouldn’t join until at least tomorrow or the day after.

"Here they come, here they come," the girl next to her gripped Xiao Yue’s arm excitedly.

Xiao Yue seemed infected by the atmosphere, her expression faintly tinged with excitement, though she didn’t know exactly what she was anticipating.

The wind whispered through the bamboo, shadows quivered in its sway, and beams of sunlight pierced through gaps in the leaves, scattering divine brilliance across the ground. A slender figure walked through the play of light and shadow.

She wore a black outfit. Though the color itself was somber and oppressive, as she moved, the golden patterns embroidered on its hem shimmered faintly—regal and dignified, yet sharp and merciless.

The woman wore a veil hat, with a black gauzy veil draping down to her neck. Sunlight filtered through the veil, as delicate as cicada wings, tracing her faint and mysterious silhouette, enticing boundless imagination.

The wind stirred the veil, briefly revealing the curve of her chin—it was like the crescent moon peeking out from behind the clouds, glowing with ethereal clarity, gentle as water, unmatched by any color of this world.

Xiao Yue reflexively gripped the arm of the person beside her, her gaze transfixed in awe.

No words came to her. She couldn’t think of how to describe the scene before her.

The effort women poured into elaborate makeup and carefully crafted poses paled in comparison to the effortless beauty this person exuded—relaxed yet poised.

Was this what they meant by the aura of a true beauty?

She suddenly recalled the black-clothed woman she’d conversed with this morning alongside Director Huang—it was her.

Huang Chu grinned so wide his face practically split in two. This was like striking gold, wasn’t it?

The black-clothed woman reached the carriage. The coachman had already placed a footstool before it. The woman lifted her skirt and stepped into the carriage with an elegance unmatched.

This scene belonged to the Commandery Princess—a carriage scene.

That’s right, in Shi Wen’s revised script, the Commandery Princess hadn’t died. Her death was staged.

This was a perfectly executed deception and escape.

From a royal Commandery Princess to the leader of the largest assassin organization in the martial world, she concealed herself within storms of blood and chaos, her delicate hands stirring the currents of both Jianghu and the imperial court. Her goal, naturally, was the highest position that everyone dreamed of achieving.

This world imposed too many restrictions and unreasonable demands on women. From a young age in the royal family, she was expected to follow rules, learn needlework and embroidery, and even shoulder the duty of marriage alliances during national crises.

In the past, her identity was defined as someone’s daughter, her future as someone’s wife, and eventually someone’s mother. Never once was she allowed to truly be herself.

When she witnessed her mother’s death, caused by endless schemes within the inner chambers of their residence, something seemed to awaken in her soul. She refused to follow her mother’s path—to be trapped in the back courtyard and struggle with all her cunning for a man’s fleeting affection.

The reigning emperor was corrupt and lacking virtue, the Crown Prince cruel and lawless, court factions divided with their own agendas, and the common people suffering in despair. The entire dynasty exuded the stench of decay and decline.

She shared the same bloodline as the late emperor. So why was she any worse?

What law decreed that women couldn’t hold power?