As soon as the words left his lips, Su Ningyue’s lightly powdered face flushed a shy crimson, her cheeks so hot they seemed to steam. Her apricot eyes, glistening like autumn pools, betrayed disbelief.
“Master, don’t jest! If you keep this up, I’ll truly be upset!” she said, stumbling back a step, her composure lost, her tone tinged with anger.
Yet her stance wasn’t firm—more like a startled fawn’s reflex. Being proposed to by a “friend” she’d met only twice would fluster anyone.
As for her true feelings, even Su Ningyue wasn’t sure. Was that hazy admiration love?
Seeing this, Ji Yanqing lifted a porcelain cup, sipped tea, and said unhurriedly, “I recall Ningyue once said, if I saved Weiyuan Escort Agency from peril, you’d repay me with everything. Now the black iron case is resolved—does Miss Su mean to go back on her word?”
“Sigh~ My trust was misplaced,” he added, feigning disappointment with perfectly measured emotion.
Too shallow, and it wouldn’t stir her guilt; too deep, and Ji Qingyan’s sheathed sword might leave him baffled.
Su Ningyue’s delicate frame trembled, her cherry lips pursed, her jade-like hands twisting her skirt, hesitating to speak.
Sometimes, hesitation itself is an answer.
Before she could voice her thoughts, Ji Yanqing cut in, “Just a joke, Miss Su. Don’t take it to heart.”
“Teasing a lady like this is hardly gentlemanly,” she said, annoyed, her words laced with resentment. Her heart had nearly leapt to her throat, almost spilling her true feelings.
“But my words weren’t entirely false,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Su Ningyue tilted her head, puzzled.
“Ningyue, you’re clever enough to guess. I come from a noble family with strict upbringing—parents arrange all matters, big and small,” Ji Yanqing sighed, continuing, “Recently, my clan arranged a marriage with a noble lady I’ve never met. Filial piety comes first, but for marriage, I want to choose myself.” He bowed respectfully.
“So, you want a pretend engagement with me to refuse that noble lady,” Su Ningyue realized after a moment’s thought.
“I know this may tarnish your reputation, but circumstances force my hand. I hope you’ll understand,” Ji Yanqing said.
“You’ve done so much for Weiyuan. Even if it ruins me, I’d comply, but…” Su Ningyue faltered, murmuring, “Master Qi Shu, a talented and handsome man, must have no shortage of admirers. Why choose me for this act?”
“Simple. Those who admire me aren’t necessarily whom I admire,” Ji Yanqing said softly, a charming smile on his lips. The story was fake, but the sentiment held some truth.
Initially, he had no intention of pursuing this bond, but somehow, he’d fallen deeper—perhaps what they call “lust at first sight.”
Hearing such saccharine words, Su Ningyue let out a soft hum, her face glowing with a drunken flush, captivating as a tipsy fairy.
“Thank you for indulging me, Ningyue,” Ji Yanqing said.
He pulled a prepared marriage contract from his sleeve, handing it to the graceful beauty. The format was set, needing only signatures.
Su Ningyue opened it, scanning carefully, her eyes pausing at the blank groom’s signature. Grievance welled in her gaze. “You used a false name?”
“Sorry, some elders dislike my dalliances,” he said.
(Xie Lingwan: Achoo! Who’s talking behind my back?)
“Can you… tell me your real name?” Su Ningyue asked, her misty apricot eyes shy.
Ji Yanqing smiled. “Ji, Yanqing.”
Her eyes flashed with shock, quickly replaced by indignation. “Master, such jests are dangerous! If the Heir hears, it’s a death sentence by lingchi.”
Chuckling, Ji Yanqing teased, “How are you so sure I’m not the Wei King’s Heir?”
“The Heir is… candid, like unpolished jade. You, Master, are refined and flawless,” Su Ningyue replied diplomatically, wary of a careless word bringing disaster.
“Heroine Ji, is flawless jade different from filthy scum?” Ji Yanqing asked, feigning curiosity.
“Of course, but I think Miss Su’s ‘unpolished jade’ means the same as filthy shamelessness,” Ji Qingyan said, her red lips curving into a coy smile, her slender finger flicking his head.
The force was light but nearly cracked his skull.
Watching their flirtatious banter, Su Ningyue’s eyes grew hazy, lost in thought. After a moment, she responded with a smile.
She neither agreed nor denied, showing how much the Heir valued his reputation.
“So, who are you, Master?” she asked.
“A secret,” Ji Yanqing said, blinking his peach-blossom eyes to charm his way through.
“Fine, keep it,” Su Ningyue said, pausing as a thought struck her, grievance in her eyes. “Your face…”
The Wei King’s Mansion’s mask-makers were skilled; even sharp-eyed Su Ningyue could only guess.
Ji Yanqing smiled, fingers peeling the mask from his temple, revealing his stunning true face.
The two faces were similar, but the mask was plainer, far less dazzling than his real visage.
Su Ningyue stared, then sighed, “Truly fresh and gallant. If you showed this face daily, how many women would fall for you?”
Realizing he’d only now revealed his true face, she puffed her cheeks, fetching a brush and ink from the back. Halfway through writing her surname, she looked at Ji Yanqing, saying coyly, “Would this nameless, handsome master deign to teach me how to write his name?”
Her sultry, melodic voice was intoxicating.
Yet, as Ye City’s renowned talent, Su Ningyue didn’t just know simple writing—she was versed in essays and poetic games.
How could the Heir resist a beauty’s invitation?
Ji Yanqing stepped behind her, gently holding her soft, pale hand, their waists touching. So close, they could hear each other’s heartbeats.
His brush strokes were bold, carving “Su Ningyue” like chiseled stone, unlike her usual delicate, graceful script.
“Your calligraphy is beautiful,” she praised softly.
“With you here, I dare not write poorly,” Ji Yanqing said, lightly resting his hand on her slender waist, a gentle touch without lecherous intent.
Compared to stiff gentlemen, most girls preferred charming, dashing youths.
“Will you come see me again, Master?” she asked.
“Of course, Ningyue’s my fiancée now,” Ji Yanqing said with a light laugh.