“Ji… Ji Yanqing, you’re a devil! If you’re so capable, come at me! Bullying a frail girl like Miss—what’s that worth?” Tongyue screamed hoarsely, her eyes bloodshot.
She could bear no more.
Ji Yanqing had crossed her only line.
Hatred, fear, rage—Tongyue couldn’t suppress her urge to kill the devilish Wei King’s Heir, just as years ago she longed to behead that Xiao clan elder to avenge her dead friend.
But… despite different times and people, the crushing, shackling powerlessness remained unchanged.
She couldn’t accept that friend’s fate, nor save her Miss.
Like a story’s fool, Tongyue stood frozen, watching tragedy loom, unable to alter its course.
“Since you know I’m a devil, why reason with me?” Ji Yanqing chuckled, his peach-blossom eyes glinting with mockery.
“…” Tongyue fell silent, her fingertips bleeding from clenching.
Ji Yanqing gently wiped her tear-streaked cheek, his brow cold, savoring her despair. Like a thorny rose, her petals were delicate—slight pressure could crush them into dust.
That lingering fragrance was a rare beauty.
“Miss Tongyue, still nothing to say? If you offer something interesting, I might treat Su Ningyue more gently,” he said.
“Scum! Devil! For these heinous acts, heaven will drag you to hell, never to be reborn!” Tongyue cursed, struggling fiercely, but the wrist-thick chains bound her limbs, rendering her efforts futile.
As a materialist youth in his past life, Ji Yanqing scoffed at curses. To him, her venomous words were less threatening than lifelong impotence.
Unfazed, he said, “Live joyfully while you can. I’ll take what years I get. Look at Ningyue’s beauty—her waist, her hips. I’d trade ten years of life for nightly bliss with her.”
“You vile, shameless wretch!” Tongyue spat.
Since her imprisonment, she’d never shown such vivid emotion. If not a Heir, Ji Yanqing could’ve been a legendary doctor curing low blood pressure.
“Xiao clan assassins are just dogs raised by Lanling Xiao. I’m vile, sure, but you—how much better are you? Over the years, dare you claim you’ve never killed innocents or virtuous gentlemen?” Ji Yanqing’s reasoned rebuke outshone Tongyue’s empty curses, brimming with authority.
Leaning to her ear, he whispered, “Don’t be too sad, Miss. I’ll have Ningyue send you a wedding invite.”
Tongyue erupted, her eyes blazing red.
[A thrilling idea strikes you. Have Su Ningyue grip the bars while Tongyue, bound in her cell, watches her pure Miss defiled…]
Despite enduring countless lewd prompts, this perverse suggestion still shocked Ji Yanqing.
‘Scummy narrator, don’t tarnish my name! This filth comes from your dirty code, not me!’
[Host, believe what you want, but don’t fool yourself while tricking the wise, glorious Narrator…]
Ji Yanqing gritted his teeth but held back from arguing with the narrator, focusing on the task at hand.
“Miss Tongyue, you don’t want Ningyue discarded after I tire of her, or bearing my child, do you?” he pressed.
“No!” As expected, his relentless pressure pushed Tongyue to the brink of collapse.
“I’ll talk… I’ll tell everything. Please, Your Highness, spare Miss Su and Weiyuan,” she pleaded.
“Excellent,” Ji Yanqing nodded, a satisfied smile curling his lips. He ordered pen, ink, and paper brought for recording.
“What does Your Highness want to know?” Tongyue asked.
“Who sent you?”
“Xiao clan’s Third Elder, Xiao Yu.”
“Besides spying on me, what was your purpose in Ye City?”
“To verify if Your Highness is truly a wastrel or merely pretending. If false, to assassinate you,” she said softly, eyes closed.
“One last thing: detail all Xiao clan communications over the past six months. No rush—recall bit by bit, have guards note it. Finish in three days,” he instructed, ordering her moved to a standard cell with tighter surveillance, then left swiftly.
He hadn’t paid respects to Auntie Xie today.
…
In the side courtyard’s Buddhist hall, serene and elegant, fresh sandalwood burned in a bronze censer, its white smoke calming the mind.
Xie Lingwan, in a dark purple palace gown, knelt on a cushion, her hair in a falling horse bun, her porcelain neck tinged with alluring pink. Her delicate collarbone peeked out, her curves exuding mature, intellectual charm.
Her thin lips murmured atonement, slender fingers turning green prayer beads.
Was her guilt toward Ji Yanqing or Xiao Yao?
She appeared calm, but her mind fretted: why hadn’t Yanqing come to pay respects? For two months, he’d visited at dawn daily, letting her glimpse his devastatingly handsome face through the door crack.
Now, nearing mid-morning, he was absent.
Doubts sprouted. Had her push-and-pull game annoyed him? Did their aunt-nephew romance, though bloodless, trouble his morals? Or… had some vixen stolen his heart, making him forget her?
Panicking, Xie Lingwan considered sending a maid to investigate, ready to grab a cleaver and catch him in the act.
Then, hurried footsteps approached.
“Madam, the Heir visits,” a maid announced respectfully.
“Bring him in!” Xie Lingwan hurriedly primped, smoothing her gown’s wrinkles, her cherry lips curling into a charming smile.
The striking white-robed youth entered, his brow aloof, his delicate peach-blossom eyes clear and radiant.
“After so long, Auntie Xie grows ever more beautiful,” Ji Yanqing said, bowing with a grin. But as he raised his hand, his sleeves froze mid-air, immobile.
Too rushed—he forgot to remove the fake marriage contract!
If Xie saw it, best case, she’d nag him to death; worst, she’d flee to the Xie clan in tears, never speaking to him again.
“Yanqing, what’s wrong?” Xie Lingwan frowned, puzzled by his odd behavior.
“Nothing, just a cramp,” Ji Yanqing said hastily, subtly adjusting to keep the contract hidden.
“Let Auntie massage it,” Xie Lingwan said, lifting her skirt and approaching, reaching for his arm.
Ji Yanqing dodged nimbly, chuckling awkwardly, “Auntie, I can handle it.”
“I’m your aunt—can’t I help?” Xie Lingwan’s tone turned stern, her mature woman’s intuition sensing he was hiding something.
Clatter—
A glaringly red booklet fell to the floor.
Ji Yanqing: 😱😱😱