Chapter 121: The Unfolding of the Plot

Glass Cup was a veteran of the internet, having devoured countless web novels focused on harem intrigue and palace power struggles. Since the development of scripts in the film and television market often lagged far behind, even though Glass Cup wasn't a professional writer, she could still predict much of the plot.

This uncanny accuracy shocked those who didn't read web novels; they thought she was some kind of plot oracle, as her deductions were always so well-reasoned. Even Glass Cup herself never imagined that she would become an internet sensation thanks to *Rivers and Mountains*, eventually evolving into a well-known film critic with a significant following on the Huaxia Film and Television Network.

If the first day was just a warm-up with people still watching from the sidelines, then the second day saw an explosion of interest. The television station was the first to feel it. Less than five minutes after the two episodes finished airing that day, the station’s hotlines were jammed. Ninety-nine percent of the callers were demanding more episodes, catching the station completely off guard.

Initially, the station head hesitated. After all, businessmen are profit-driven; seeing how popular *Rivers and Mountains* was, the longer it ran, the more beneficial it would be for the station. However, the station head quickly changed strategy. The term "premiere" did not mean they had to finish airing their entire series before others could start; it simply meant they were the first to air the opening episode. Seeing that the *Rivers and Mountains* pie was so massive, other stations began taking action, rearranging their schedules and moving projects around just to get their own broadcasts of the show on air as soon as possible. Some had even planned for triple-episode broadcasts. If the station head remained stubborn, it wouldn't be long before others took the lead, and their premiere advantage would vanish entirely.

Therefore, on the third day, viewers were pleasantly surprised to find that the usual two episodes had become three. It was truly the first time a television station had so thoroughly satisfied the audience’s expectations, which significantly boosted the station's reputation and popularity, leaving the station head feeling it was well worth it.

This also meant that Concubine Rou’s fate would soon be laid bare before the audience, confirming just how powerful the "plot oracle" Glass Cup was. The viewers had watched Concubine Rou’s perilous journey step by step. Having finally given birth to a prince and being elevated to one of the Four Consorts, the audience’s natural instinct was to think she had finally overcome her hardships and reached the dawn. Little did they expect that this would trigger a secret alliance among all the women in the harem; even without an explicit pact, they acted with a tacit, collective effort.

With the involvement of various factions tied to the harem, Concubine Rou realized the gravity of the situation. She had no choice but to step forward and shoulder the burden to protect her son, allowing the Emperor to seize more power in the process. For the Emperor, an alliance of powerful officials was the greatest threat. Unable to watch the imperial authority of her beloved fall into others' hands, she willingly sacrificed herself to break the deadlock, trading her life for a chance to regain control.

Thus, on the fourth day, the final scene Chu Luoxi had filmed appeared. It had previously been glimpsed in the trailer, but seeing it unfold in the actual episode made the audience feel the tragedy more deeply. They couldn't help but ache for Concubine Rou and feel a profound sense of pity for her. She hadn't enjoyed many good days, yet she was forced to risk everything. Many had guessed that Concubine Rou might die, but they selfishly hoped for a miracle. With red eyes and tears streaming down their faces, they watched in silence as she bade a final farewell to the Emperor, then donned her magnificent palace robes and walked toward the Empress's residence with a tragic sense of resolve.

"Chen Xiaosan..." Standing in an octagonal pavilion with flying eaves, not far from the fork in the path leading to the Empress’s palace, the Emperor looked despondent. His gaze was sorrowful, his entire being steeped in agonizing grief. Coupled with the melancholic beauty of falling flowers and leaves, a single glance was enough to break one’s heart. At this moment, a sad piece of classical music began to play, lingering lightly in the air. It touched the hearts of viewers who had previously been holding back, causing tears to well up; they were moved to weep.

He had just come from Concubine Rou’s palace and was standing there waiting—how could he not know what she was about to do?

"This servant is here!" Chen Xiaosan said respectfully, dressed in his head eunuch’s attire. His expression was rich with emotion: the tenderness of an elder for a junior, the suppressed anger for his master’s plight—all in all, he was a loyal and endearing old man.

"Concubine Rou..." The Emperor choked on his words. He paused before asking, "How long has she been gone?"

"A stick of incense ago, this servant saw Consort Rou head to the Empress’s palace." Chen Xiaosan felt the pain as well, his voice heavy.

"A stick of incense? Only that long?" The Emperor murmured to himself, his distant gaze hollow. That final, deep, helpless sigh caused many female viewers to sob silently, feeling it was the kind of calm that only comes from extreme heartache, enough to bring anyone to tears.

As she passed the fork in the path, Concubine Rou glanced at the Emperor, whose position was somewhat concealed, but she did not stop. She took with her endless longing and attachment, her figure exuding an aura of grace and dignity.

Concubine Rou had gone there with the intent to scheme against the Empress. The Empress, thinking only that Concubine Rou was destined to die the next day, had no guard up; instead, she felt a sense of schadenfreude. The Empress assumed Concubine Rou was unaware that she had already been plotted against, so she never imagined that Concubine Rou would be ruthless enough to use her own life to strike first. Consequently, she fell into the trap quite easily.

When the Empress discovered that Concubine Rou had truly died in her palace, she finally realized the gravity of the situation. Just as she was frantically trying to call for someone to clean up the mess, the Emperor arrived. The audience watched as he entered the hall and caught sight of Concubine Rou’s body; his eyes instantly turned bloodshot. The camera gave a close-up of Concubine Rou’s palm, where she clutched the token of love between her and the Emperor. The sight nearly made him lose his composure and rush toward her body.

Fortunately, Chen Xiaosan stopped him in time, whispering a reminder: "Your Majesty, do not let Consort Rou’s sacrifice go to waste!"

The favorable situation had been bought with Concubine Rou’s life; if the Emperor lost control now, all would be lost. Clenching his fists until the veins on the back of his hands popped out, the Emperor forced himself to remain calm. Only the fierce, almost crazed glint in his eyes remained, foreshadowing a bloody, secret struggle where the balance of power had finally tipped.

Although the arrogant Empress’s fate was sealed—she would be deposed and thrown into the cold palace—and a new chapter was beginning, the viewers could not feel happy; instead, they felt a heavy weight in their hearts. Especially when they saw the Emperor holding Concubine Rou’s body, not crying aloud, but shedding tears in such a heart-wrenching way—the sorrow expressed in that silent weeping made many viewers cry even more bitterly than the actors on screen.

"A man does not shed tears lightly; it is only because he has not yet reached the depths of sorrow." That extreme, soul-crushing pain resonated with so many viewers that they felt their own hearts constricting with every breath. Many predicted that the Best Actor award early next year was already as good as his.