“Proposing?!”
Ji Qingyan could hardly believe her ears. Though her view of the Wei King’s Heir bordered on scum, hearing such beastly words from his mouth still shocked her slightly.
Knowing someone less than a hundred days, meeting only twice, and wanting to marry them—wasn’t this blatant abduction of a maiden, thinly veiled as a proper betrothal, unable to hide its ugliness?
With her sword sheath pressed against Ji Yanqing’s neck, he signaled his hidden guards to withdraw, explaining to the fuming Ji Qingyan, “I’m not proposing to you, Heroine. Why so worked up?”
“Beast! I had a shred of hope before, but in just days, your true colors show,” she snapped.
“How’s a proper marriage proposal beastly?” Ji Yanqing, seasoned in brothel debts, countered calmly.
“Proposing as the Wei King’s Heir to Miss Su—would Weiyuan Escort Agency, even with bear’s heart and leopard’s gall, dare refuse?” she argued.
“Who said I’m proposing as the Heir?” he replied.
“Then as who?” Ji Qingyan asked, puzzled.
“As Master Qi Shu, naturally,” Ji Yanqing said, sipping Green Ant wine, unruffled.
Ji Qingyan nearly lowered her sheath, then sensed something off. Qi Shu was him! So, the vile Heir wouldn’t even offer a proper title!
Before she could draw her sword for justice, Ji Yanqing stuffed a braised chicken leg into her mouth.
“Mmph!” she mumbled.
“If I show the slightest hint of forcing Miss Su, you can stab me dead,” Ji Yanqing said, pausing before adding, “But if Su Ningyue agrees willingly, I trust you won’t make a fool of yourself, Heroine?”
Ji Qingyan stayed silent, tacitly agreeing.
Nearing New Year, Weiyuan Escort Agency was festive, adorned with lanterns and elegant couplets.
Though nearly shuttered recently, it escaped unscathed. The Ma family fell for embezzling military supplies, and Captain Zhang Hongyuan, exiled and crippled by the enraged General Guide.
A seemingly hopeless crisis resolved bloodlessly—easier than escorting a major shipment.
Celebrating their survival, the escorts’ meals were richer than usual, filled with laughter, wine, and camaraderie, living like immortals.
Not everyone was joyful, though.
In the western wing, Su Ningyue, in a light blue jacket and skirt, slumped over her desk, brows furrowed with worry.
Rumors said the Ma family’s downfall came after Guoyi Lieutenant discovered his brother gambling with a courtesan at Snow Moon Tower, funded by a captain’s meager salary—barely enough for a song, let alone “deep exchanges.”
Why was the Lieutenant at a brothel?
Storytellers claimed the Heir fancied the same courtesan, but Zhang Hongyuan beat him to her, sparking a brawl in her room—villains grinding each other down.
Yet, Su Ningyue felt this tied to Master Qi Shu, though he’d vanished, along with her long-time maid, Tongyue.
Her father’s illness worsened, and while business improved post-Ma downfall, it was only slightly better. How long could Weiyuan last?
Su Ningyue sighed inwardly.
Clop, clop.
Hooves approached from the street.
Riding double with the Heir had become routine for Ji Qingyan, letting him hold her waist.
On his third visit to Weiyuan, Ji Yanqing was at ease, handing over his invitation and waiting in the main hall.
Barely seated, he felt icy, frost-like eyes on him. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Heroine Ji, I haven’t flirted or forced anyone. Can you stop staring like I’m a criminal? At least wait for Miss Su before drawing your sword. No need to rush.”
Ji Yanqing waved, exasperated.
“Hmph,” Ji Qingyan snorted, sheathing her sword with a flourish.
Even with Ji Yanqing’s breakthrough to Gathering Spirit Realm, capable against average cultivators, a true Transformation Realm master could end him in one strike.
“Master Qi!” A delighted voice came from within, and a breathtaking beauty appeared. Su Ningyue, lightly powdered with rosy cheeks, resembled an autumn peach, tempting a kiss.
“Miss Ningyue, as ravishing as ever,” Ji Yanqing said, rising, sleeves clasped, bowing. Reluctantly, Ji Qingyan offered a curtsey.
Since seeing Su Ningyue cozy with the rogue Heir, Ji Qingyan felt at odds with her.
“You flatter me, Master. I’m but a frail willow,” Su Ningyue replied softly, tucking a strand of hair, her face glowing like rosy clouds.
[Most women say one thing but mean another. Compliment her beauty, and she’ll demur while secretly delighting. In certain moments, “no” means the same. You’ll soon experience it…]
Ji Yanqing nearly thought the narrator had turned over a new leaf, but the punchline was in the second half.
Scummy narrator, as always.
“With the Ma family raided and Zhang Hongyuan exiled, Weiyuan’s truly blessed. It shouldn’t end here. My congratulations, Miss Su,” Ji Yanqing said, stepping closer to pave the way.
“Thanks to you, Master Qi,” she replied.
“Oh? How did Ningyue connect this to me?” he asked, smiling, not denying his role in the Ma downfall. He’d done much for Weiyuan; it was time for Su Ningyue to repay the favor. The terms? Not too big, not too small.
“I believe Master Qi is a man of his word, never abandoning Weiyuan,” she said softly.
“In that case, I have a request for Ningyue,” Ji Yanqing said, gently taking her porcelain-smooth hand, soft as fine Jiangnan silk.
“Speak, Master,” she said.
“Though forward, would Miss Ningyue be willing to join me as lifelong partners, like mandarin ducks?” he asked softly.