During the Frostfall season, the autumn wind was bleak, and Ye City’s weather grew chilly.
As the capital of Ji Province, its streets bustled with life, wide avenues teeming with people and exotic goods arriving from afar.
After leaving Weiyuan Escort Agency, Ji Yanqing returned to the Wei King’s Mansion, shedding his mask and donning a white brocade robe with rosy cloud patterns, cinched with a jade belt. The three-foot sword was replaced with an ornate ivory folding fan.
The fan bore the inscription “Tranquility breeds clarity, serenity leads to greatness,” not the work of a famed calligrapher but written by an old friend of Wei King Ji Yang, surnamed Zhao, given name Zhenzhen, posthumously titled Taizu, as a coming-of-age gift for Ji Yanqing.
“Changing into this outfit—whose daughter are you off to ruin now?” Ji Qingyan pursed her lips, hands on hips, clearly displeased.
“Good question. Let me think,” Ji Yanqing said, blinking playfully, feigning contemplation. “Brothel girls are too garish, abducted maidens too docile. Su Ningyue’s a rare beauty, but I’m too chivalrous to force her… How about you, Heroine Ji, join me at Yuegui Studio to shop and pick up something fun?”
Ji Qingyan was about to refuse when she caught sight of Ji Yanqing’s devastatingly handsome face. Her eyes flickered with panic.
This scoundrel was… rather good-looking and silver-tongued.
An innocent girl meeting him could easily lose her heart and virtue, only for him to walk away without a glance, leaving the poor thing helpless.
At that moment, Ji Qingyan recalled the tale of Buddha feeding his flesh to an eagle.
If she stepped forward, she could save a pure girl from ruin. She was certain she wouldn’t fall for the Wei King’s Heir’s charms or become a lovesick fool.
After a fierce internal struggle, Ji Qingyan resolved to sacrifice herself to uphold her heroine’s path.
“Mm,” she murmured, her delicate fingers fidgeting with the hem of her black pleated skirt.
Seeing her shy, alluring expression, Ji Yanqing’s mind nearly crashed.
‘I just asked you to come to Yuegui Studio to buy rouge and play maid-cum-bodyguard. What’s with that look? You think I’d ravish you in the wild?’
He beckoned a pretty maid. “Take Miss Qingyan to change her clothes. Be thorough, and don’t let Lady Xie notice, or you’ll lose three months’ pay!”
The maid, her hair in a cloud-like bun, glanced at the breathtaking Ji Qingyan, then at the warmly smiling heir, and nodded hesitantly.
“What are you planning now?” Ji Qingyan stepped back, eyeing Ji Yanqing warily.
The Wei King’s Heir’s rumored quirks—collars, whips, and the like—were so shameful she blushed just hearing storytellers mention them. Experiencing them herself? No way!
“Just a change of clothes. Your red outfit and black skirt are striking, but you can’t wear them forever,” Ji Yanqing said kindly, his gaze pure, devoid of malice.
Though uneasy, with Shadow Bearer still in his hands, Ji Qingyan followed the maids deeper into the mansion.
“Mo Bo, I need to speak with you,” Ji Yanqing said.
“What are your orders, young lord?” A gaunt old man emerged from the shadows, speaking respectfully.
“Send more Radiant Sun Realm experts to watch Weiyuan Escort Agency—discreetly, no traces. I have a feeling we’re reeling in a big fish.”
“Shall we deploy three Qian Yuan retainers from the mansion and prepare fifteen days’ worth of Breath-Concealing Pills? What do you think, young lord?”
“Good,” Ji Yanqing nodded, snapping open his fan. The autumn breeze brushing his face carried a chill.
“There’s been some friction between Zhechong Prefecture and Weiyuan. Troubleshoot it, Mo Bo, especially with Guoyi Lieutenant Zhang Zhaoyuan. Tell him to rein in his brother.”
“Understood,” Mo Pang replied.
…
Half an hour later, Ji Yanqing grew impatient. Trying on every female outfit in the mansion shouldn’t take this long.
Perhaps fearing docked pay, the waiting maid seemed nervous. Seeing the heir approach, she curtsied hastily, her posture flawless.
“Hasn’t Miss Qingyan finished changing?” Ji Yanqing asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Replying to Your Highness, Miss Qingyan was shy, so I helped her change. She’s been ready for a while,” the maid said, her cheeks oddly flushed.
“What’s there to be shy about?” Ji Yanqing muttered, pushing the door open. Before he could see Ji Qingyan’s outfit, he averted his gaze.
The sight was too provocative for his eyes to stay pure.
Ji Qingyan wore a ravishing red dress, form-fitting and accentuating her curvaceous figure. The sheer hem faintly revealed her slender, snow-white legs.
Her face, lightly powdered, bore a seductive flush. Her narrow, enchanting phoenix eyes gazed with a mix of reproach and allure.
Her delicate collarbone peeked out, her ample chest creating a deep, tantalizing valley—utterly captivating.
A fleeting glance left Ji Yanqing coughing lightly, shifting his gaze to the window.
“Miss Qingyan looks… quite distinctive in this,” he said.
“You’ve been waiting to ogle, haven’t you, scum!” Ji Qingyan’s face glowed crimson, her beauty breathtaking, tears shimmering in her autumn-water eyes.
Leaving her sect to seek the lost evil sword Nightmare, she’d been deceived by a vile man, becoming a captive of the Wei King’s Mansion.
Her master’s gifted sword was taken, and she’d sworn on her sect’s honor not to harm the heir.
From the moment she met Ji Yanqing, she’d been utterly ensnared, unable to break free, at his mercy.
As her master warned, the martial world was treacherous indeed!
Her tear-streaked face was so pitiful that Ji Yanqing felt a pang of compassion. No matter her cultivation talent, Ji Qingyan was just a seventeen-year-old girl, long secluded in remote mountains, her heart still naive.
He quietly retrieved a red, fox-fur-lined cloak from a cabinet, draping it over her creamy shoulders and tying the neckband carefully.
“What… what are you doing?” Ji Qingyan asked, bewildered. Shouldn’t he be smirking wickedly, taking advantage like in those stories?
“With autumn turning to winter, it’s getting cold. You should dress warmly, Miss Qingyan,” Ji Yanqing said, gently wiping a tear from her eye, his gaze steady. He then playfully pinched her stunning cheek.
“Don’t touch me!” Ji Qingyan huffed, dodging his fingers, her tears mostly gone.
“Alright, I apologize, Miss Qingyan. The Wei King’s Mansion has been a poor host. You’re practically a teary kitten—heroines don’t cry so easily.”
“I wasn’t crying! Just… sand in my eyes!” she retorted.
“Since you arrived in Ye City, the sandstorms have worsened. Such weather ruins makeup. Let me take you to buy some rouge,” Ji Yanqing teased.
Ji Qingyan pursed her cherry lips, turning away, grudgingly murmuring her assent.