Watching Xie Lingwan’s graceful figure recede, Ji Yanqing gathered spiritual energy in his legs, lightly tapping his toes to glide through the air, landing elegantly before her like falling snowflakes, his form tall and poised.
Such flashy movement was costly in spiritual energy, a trick wastrels used to impress women, scoffed at by righteous martial artists.
“Auntie Xie, will you hear me out?” Ji Yanqing sighed, his expression helpless.
“Go eat with Qingyan. Don’t see me,” Xie Lingwan said, her eyes red, tears streaking her cheeks like pear blossoms battered by midnight rain, evoking pity.
“It’s New Year’s Eve, Auntie. Don’t be mad at me. Without you, how can it be a reunion dinner?” Ji Yanqing said, nearly in tears, always at her mercy.
Her body trembled, calming slightly. Reflecting, her earlier actions were indeed excessive.
She’d invited Ji Qingyan to assert her claim, flaunting her allure to show Yanqing’s devotion left no room for outsiders.
But instead? A single glance from that vixen, and Yanqing distanced himself, his soul nearly stolen.
Was she, his aunt, less than Ji Qingyan’s flirtatious look?
Growing angrier, Xie had stormed out, partly in a huff.
At nearly twenty-seven, such rashness was unbecoming.
Pursing her lips, she regretted it inwardly.
“You have Qingyan. Why need a faded flower like me?” Xie said sourly.
A sultry voice whispered in Ji Yanqing’s ear.
[Xie’s tantrum stems from unfulfilled desires. As her nephew, tend to her emotions, show filial piety. The quiet Xiaochun Lake tonight is perfect for a mandarin duck bath…]
A winter night bath?
Ji Yanqing suspected the narrator’s code was bugged, swapping hippocampus and sponge in a bizarre mix-up.
The programmer was likely drunk coding this.
“Heroine Ji is a guest. We’re purely cooperative, nothing more. After Lantern Festival, she’ll leave,” Ji Yanqing said, taking her pale hand, gently pulling the palace-clad beauty into his arms, his peach-blossom eyes filled with tainted filial devotion.
Their gazes met, and Xie faltered. Those delicate eyes touched her heart’s softest spot.
When she came to, his arm encircled her slender waist. Sensing his roving hand, her face flushed, and she put up a token struggle.
Her resistance was negligible, and she soon surrendered, her body melting into his embrace, warm in the cold winter night.
His familiar scent enveloped her, his youthful allure making her surrender. Without words, Xie closed her fox-like eyes, savoring the moment.
Her only regret? Ji Qingyan wasn’t there to witness it.
“Seems Auntie doesn’t hate me that much,” Ji Yanqing said, smiling, leaning to shield her from the falling snow. She was sensitive to cold.
“I like you so much I could devour you,” Xie said, pinching his waist resentfully. “But you’re coming of age, probably finding me too controlling… Sigh, let’s not meet anymore.”
“I can’t bear to lose such a beautiful aunt,” he said, kissing her forehead tenderly.
“You know I’m your aunt and still kiss~” she chided coyly.
“You’re too beautiful, Auntie. I couldn’t resist.”
“Lecher…” Xie muttered, subtly hooking his neck, her mind replaying dreamlike scenes, her face blushing hotly.
Ji Yanqing gazed at the beauty in his arms, silent.
“What are you thinking?” Xie asked, curious.
“How to properly ‘admire’ you,” he replied with a smile.
Xie was briefly stunned but soon regained her composure, exuding captivating allure.
She lifted her delicate face, her waist rising, their lips meeting—cool, silky, yet full of tender affection.
‘Damn it, why didn’t Ji Qingyan see this?!’ Xie thought, annoyed. If Yanqing finished their business in the pavilion, why freeze out here? Feeling for him, she warmed his chilled hands.
“You pushed me away earlier, now you’re teasing me like a rake. What a scoundrel,” she scolded.
“Auntie, shall we go back for the reunion dinner?”
“Sure, but…” After a pause, Xie’s red lips parted. “You must agree to one condition.”
“What condition?”
“I’ll tell you later,” she said seductively.
Ji Yanqing nodded, scooping the stunning woman into his arms, gently lifting her slender legs, her form light and delicate.
Her crimson dress clung tightly, accentuating her mature, curvaceous figure.
…
Qinchuan, the imperial stronghold; Hangu, the royal abode. Towers soar a thousand fathoms, palaces stretch a hundred walls. Roofs touch the heavens, pavilions pierce the void—a celestial palace where nations bow.
This city was Chang’an.
Star bridges and fiery trees, dragons and fish dance, red lotuses blooming in a single night.
On Lingyan Street, east of the imperial city, stood residences granted to nobles and ministers. Past the octagonal archway lay a lavish mansion—the Prime Minister’s estate.
At midnight, candlelight flickered in the study. Clad in a simple black robe, Prime Minister Liu reviewed reports from afar, his hawk-like brows furrowed.
Just past fifty, Liu Sili’s hair was streaked gray. On New Year’s Eve, he locked himself in, never stepping out.
A heavy knock sounded.
“Prime Minister, Inspectorate Commander Zhang Yong has knelt outside for over two hours. Will you truly not see him?”
The rustle of pages stopped.
“Tell Commander Zhang: water flows downward, but men always eye higher peaks. We serve the emperor together, handling state affairs, with no personal ties.”
“You’re cutting ties, Prime Minister,” the steward cautioned.
Liu paused, then said calmly, “As long as he doesn’t hinder my reforms, I won’t trouble him.”
“Understood,” the steward replied, hurrying off.
Silence returned. Liu rose, tossing all reports about Ye City into the brazier, where flames consumed them to ash.