Seeing Xie Lingwan return with Ji Yanqing, Ji Qingyan’s anxious heart settled. If the infamous Heir truly took her sword Chengying, even if her master didn’t expel her, she’d be too ashamed to face her.
The palace-clad beauty’s face flushed, her mind replaying their intimate moments. Only now did Xie Lingwan vaguely recall she was Ji Yanqing’s aunt, his elder.
Xiao Yao’s words to care for Yanqing echoed in her ears.
Guilt and shame stirred, but Xie reasoned she hadn’t failed Xiao Yao. Beyond her self-serving desires, her care for Yanqing was meticulous.
Half his clothes and socks these years were her handiwork. She’d even cared for him in bed—could her care be lacking?
By this logic, she’d not only done no wrong but exceeded Xiao Yao’s hopes. Bearing and raising Yanqing’s children would even cover his lineage duties.
She’d lowered herself from “sister” to “concubine,” perhaps even “mother consort.”
After such sacrifices, Xiao Yao owing her thanks wasn’t too much.
Self-justified, Xie stifled a smile, pursing her lips to avoid losing composure before Yanqing.
Back in the pavilion, Ji Yanqing dared not linger. Dining with two stunning women spelled trouble. He grabbed chopsticks, took a few bites, and ate quickly.
Finish fast, leave, and survive the New Year.
But then, a rich wine aroma hit. Xie retrieved two aged jugs from the cabinet, placing them by the table.
“Auntie, don’t you hate wine’s smell?” Ji Yanqing asked, brow furrowed. Since meeting her when she moved to the Wei King’s Mansion, he’d known her for over a decade—a mature childhood sweetheart of sorts.
Her habits, likes, dislikes, even measurements—he knew them well.
As the saying goes, anything unusual hides mischief.
Xie preparing wine on New Year’s Eve? Ji Yanqing wouldn’t believe she had no ulterior motives.
“It’s New Year’s Eve; I drink a little to warm up,” Xie said, a flicker of panic in her fox-like eyes, quickly masked.
“You usually drink fruit wine,” he pointed out sharply.
“Do I?” Her body trembled as she lifted a jug, uncovering it, deflecting, “Maybe I’m tired of fruit wine and want a change.”
Ji Yanqing nodded noncommittally, not mentioning the time Xie, drunk on fruit wine by the consort, mistook herself for a butterfly, running barefoot in the snow.
Xie blinked her seductive eyes, pouring him a full cup with a smug smile. “Drink it all~”
Staring at the thick liquid, Ji Yanqing hesitated, thinking others might lace wine with a pinch of aphrodisiac, but she’d poured a jug’s worth into a pinch of wine.
‘Auntie, you’re too eager! Even if you have those needs, I could help with my hands.’
After a pause, he asked, “Auntie… that condition you mentioned—is it this?”
“No.”
“Good…”
“It’s me sitting on your lap, feeding you the wine,” she said coyly, tucking hair behind her ear, exuding allure.
Cough, cough, cough!
Ji Qingyan choked, pounding her back to swallow stuck food.
Like nephew, like aunt.
Watching their scandalous behavior, Ji Qingyan feared if she weren’t there, the pavilion would host an aunt-nephew forbidden scene.
Wait… was she part of their game?
She lowered her head, dreading filthy sights, her stunning face flushed, ears red, radiant like a budding peach blossom.
Seeing Ji Qingyan defeated without a move, Xie’s lips curved into a smug, seductive smile.
Grabbing her skirt, she sat on Ji Yanqing’s parted thighs. Such intimacy before others was a first, the thrill of taboo stirring her.
Her figure under the dress was full and soft, her hips like ripe peaches, her slender legs perfectly balanced.
Those legs alone could keep Ji Yanqing entertained for a year.
[Xie’s fox-like eyes reveal her desires, the wine a testament. Since she dares act, she’s ready for the consequences…]
The narrator’s tempting words made Ji Yanqing look up.
Sensing his shift, Xie hooked his neck, leaning close to whisper, “Lecher… didn’t see it before… so hungry for my body? You can do anything~”
Her natural allure was deadly to men.
Her pale hand held the cup, its gleam complementing hers, bringing it to his lips.
“Yanqing, time for New Year’s wine~”
Clenching his jaw, Ji Yanqing recalled every hardship from past and present lives, barely relaxing to push the cup away.
“What’s that mean, Yanqing?” Xie asked, her brows furrowing, displeased.
“Before drinking, I have a question.”
“Ask quick!” she urged, writhing her snake-like waist. His habit of carrying a dagger rubbed her uncomfortably.
“How many packets of that drug are in this?”
“You… what? I don’t understand,” she stammered, visibly nervous.
Unwilling to admit defeat, she moved to force the drink, but Ji Yanqing restrained her, their bodies pressed close.
“Auntie, no joke—this much could kill,” he said.
“Explosive temper” was usually an adjective, but if he drank this, it’d be a noun.
Panicked, Xie was too shy to confess. After struggling, she whispered, “…About thirty packets?”
“A pound?!” Ji Yanqing was speechless. Even for spousal murder, that was excessive.
Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke.
“This wine… tastes unique…”
While the aunt and nephew flirted, Ji Qingyan, recalling the saying “only wine relieves sorrow,” had snuck a sip…