Wu Lang bit his lip, not daring to beg for mercy anymore.
He answered with a very soft yes, bowed his head in resignation, and slowly crawled into the dank dark chamber.
The stone door closed before Wu Lang’s eyes, ruthlessly blocking out all light and leaving only endless darkness behind.
The surroundings fell abruptly silent, his breathing the only sound audible.
Wu Lang carefully shifted his knees, trying hard not to let the iron chain on his body make any noise. He groped his way to the corner, kneeling and curling up beside the pile of dry straw there—the only thing he had to keep warm.
He was so cold, and it hurt so much.
Icy water droplets seeped from the cracks in the wall, dripping onto his wounds with a steady plink-plink. Wu Lang’s fingertips dug desperately into the stone floor, but he only dared to gasp softly, silently enduring wave after wave of excruciating pain.
This was not the first time Wu Lang had been locked in here.
Sometimes it lasted one or two hours, sometimes a whole night. If Xue Qingzhi was in a bad mood, it could stretch to two full days.
No food, no water. No light.
He could only cling to a shred of desperate hope in the suffocating darkness, praying that Xue Qingzhi would remember him and mercifully let him out.
Wu Lang lowered his eyes. He had no idea how long Xue Qingzhi would punish him this time. Perhaps he would be forgotten here, dying a lowly death like an ant.
In his dazed state, Wu Lang recalled the reason for his punishment—
The Eldest Princess in her wheelchair.
In the boundless darkness, Wu Lang once again traced Xue Yunyi’s image in his mind. Soft snow satin draped from the girl’s knees, silently concealing her disability. His gaze instinctively lifted, meeting those clear eyes, where he glimpsed a hint of pity.
It was something he had never dared to hope for.
Azure Cypress Palace.
“Your Highness, this servant has looked into it,” Mo Ying said as she hurried into the bedchamber, reporting in a low voice to Xue Yunyi.
Xue Yunyi set down the book in her hands and looked up at Mo Ying.
“Only after investigating did this servant learn that the young man is actually the Wu family’s second young master, named Wu Lang.”
Mo Ying’s voice carried clear indignation as she spilled the beans one after another, recounting everything she had uncovered. “That day, the Second Princess left the palace for some leisure and happened to spot Wu Lang in a bookshop. She took a fancy to him at once and invited him to accompany her on a boat ride to enjoy the views. Wu Lang didn’t know her identity, and with his aloof temperament, he refused her outright in front of everyone. Your Highness knows the Second Princess’s temper—she’s always gotten whatever she wants in the palace, wind or rain. How could she tolerate such humiliation? She nearly smashed the shop in a rage and threw an even bigger tantrum when she got back. Old Master Wu heard about it and, fearing the Second Princess’s wrath would drag down the Wu family, anxiously escorted Wu Lang into the palace that very night and offered him up to her.”
At this point, Mo Ying couldn’t help sighing. “He’s truly pitiable. His birth mother was just a lowly bed-warmer who died after giving birth to him, thanks to Old Master Wu’s schemes. No one in the Wu family treats him like a person—they torment him in every way they can. He only snuck out to that bookshop because the overseer was away. That title of second young master is nothing but an empty name.”
Xue Yunyi’s brow furrowed slightly. No wonder Xue Qingzhi treated Wu Lang that way—it stemmed from this very incident.
Everyone in the palace knew that Xue Qingzhi’s mother, Consort Jiang, was the apple of the current Emperor’s eye. Out of love for her, he doted on Xue Qingzhi as well. Over the years, Xue Qingzhi had grown arrogant and willful. What had she ever wanted that she didn’t get? Even if she demanded the moon from the sky, the Emperor would find a way to fetch it for her. She had never tasted rejection.
But what had Wu Lang done wrong?
Remembering the young man’s eyes, dark pools brimming with fear, Xue Yunyi felt a pang of reluctance in her heart. After a long moment, she lowered her head, returning her gaze to the dull history book.
“Go pack up the brushes and ink from the study. Bring them to Ninghua Palace tomorrow.”
She was in such a precarious position herself—how could she spare thoughts for pitying others?
The next day.
Qingdai had been waiting early outside Xue Qingzhi’s bedchamber. When she saw Mo Ying pushing the wheelchair over, she curtsied unhurriedly to Xue Yunyi, smiling slyly. “This servant thought Your Highness’s legs might make you late, but Your Highness is so punctual.”
Mo Ying shot Qingdai a fierce glare.
Xue Yunyi’s expression remained impassive, as if she hadn’t heard a word.
Qingdai’s smile faltered awkwardly, and she wisely stepped aside to clear the path.
The incense in the hall was cloyingly thick.
As the wheelchair rolled forward, the scent grew even more overpowering.
Xue Yunyi frowned. Raising her eyes, she spotted scattered clothes by the canopy bed. Fine moon-gauze silk lay in soft, rumpled disarray, like drenched rouge—decadent and wanton.
Several handsome young men, bare from the waist up, were attending to Xue Qingzhi, helping her into her shoes and stockings.
Xue Yunyi’s gaze inadvertently swept over their faces.
No Wu Lang.
She watched as Xue Qingzhi yawned lazily and finally rose unhurriedly. A demonically alluring young man stood from the floor beside her, deftly removing a crooked pearl hairpin from her hair. In moments, he had neatly recoiled her tresses and carefully pinned it back in place.
His movements were practiced, clearly honed through meticulous practice.
Xue Qingzhi, thoroughly pleased with the service, turned and planted a kiss on the young man’s cheek. In high spirits, she instructed, “Ah Xiao was worn out last night. Go rest.”
“It’s Ah Xiao’s good fortune to serve the Princess. Ah Xiao isn’t tired.”
The young man called Ah Xiao kept his eyes modestly lowered, his tone gentle.
Xue Qingzhi lingered in Ah Xiao’s embrace for a while longer before languidly turning her gaze to Xue Yunyi.
“I got up a bit late this morning. Sorry to keep you waiting, Imperial Sister.” She glanced at the wheelchair beneath Xue Yunyi and added considerately, “Since walking is inconvenient for you, Imperial Sister, I won’t take you to the study. Just paint here.”
Qingdai had already come in from outside, guiding Xue Yunyi further inside.
Behind a screen embroidered with landscapes and birds stood a spacious octagonal rosewood table. A curio shelf nearby displayed all manner of jade carvings and novel trinkets, every one a lavish gift from the Emperor.
Mo Ying wheeled Xue Yunyi to the table and couldn’t help grumbling inwardly about the Emperor’s favoritism.
The Emperor held no affection for the Empress, and by extension, he neglected the Eldest Princess as well. Though she was the palace’s highest princess, her residence was stark and desolate—nothing like the opulent splendor of Ninghua Palace.
Xue Yunyi paid it no mind, simply instructing Mo Ying to clear the table of its paper and brushes, replacing them with her own familiar set.
Xue Qingzhi noticed and smiled. “My oversight, Imperial Sister. You’re always particular and wouldn’t deign to use what I prepared.”
“I’m used to my usual ones. Switching suddenly might make my hand rusty.” Xue Yunyi calmly unrolled the fine white rice paper. “Sit properly, little sister. Don’t move about.”
Xue Qingzhi choked slightly, huffing in displeasure. She ordered the attending young men to bring over a chair.
Ah Xiao helped Xue Qingzhi sit, then solicitously massaged her shoulders.
Bored with just sitting still, Xue Qingzhi beckoned a fresh-faced young man with rosy lips and pearly teeth, handing him a script to read aloud.
The young man was named Jie An. Though not the most striking among the male companions, he had a captivating voice. The dialogue from the script came alive through his throat, as vivid as a performance unfolding right before their eyes.
Painting required utmost focus. Xue Yunyi’s brush paused briefly as she glanced at Xue Qingzhi.
Xue Qingzhi blinked innocently. “What’s wrong?”
“Too noisy,” Xue Yunyi said.
“Can’t Imperial Sister bear even this much sound?” Xue Qingzhi laughed. “Looks like your mind isn’t settled, Imperial Sister.”
“If I accidentally paint you as an ugly monster, I hope you won’t hold it against me.” Xue Yunyi dipped her fine brush in light ink and continued, ignoring Xue Qingzhi.
Xue Qingzhi was somewhat annoyed but waved Jie An away regardless.
It was rare for Xue Yunyi to agree to paint her portrait—she didn’t want a mere story script to distract her and ruin the likeness.
The surroundings quieted.
In a place hidden from Xue Yunyi’s view, faint sounds persisted.
Plink.
A water droplet struck the young man’s handsome nose, carrying a bone-chilling cold that sliced like a knife across his parched lips.
Wu Lang slowly opened his eyes.
Some sound had woken him—
Not Xue Qingzhi’s voice, but oddly familiar.
Through the curio shelf, through the thick stone walls, it wafted in like a gentle breeze.
As awareness returned, pain followed swiftly, cruelly tormenting the young man’s overly gaunt frame.
Cold sweat beaded on Wu Lang’s forehead.
He had no sense of how many hours had passed outside. Perhaps it was deep night, with Xue Qingzhi carousing with her male companions, unlikely to think of him. Or maybe daylight had broken, warm sunlight flooding the hall through the windows—yet it would never reach him.
His untreated wounds throbbed like needle pricks. Wu Lang bit his lip and instinctively shifted his knees, seeking a slightly more comfortable kneeling position. But he accidentally nudged the iron chain piled at his legs.
Clank—
The harsh noise jolted Wu Lang fully awake.
No sound was permitted during punishment.
Not even breathing, which was a mercy granted by Xue Qingzhi.
Wu Lang closed his eyes in despair, not daring to imagine the consequences of disturbing her. He had endured her methods of punishment before—any one of them could shatter his already broken body.
The sudden noise caused Xue Yunyi’s wrist to tremble, nearly ruining a crucial stroke of her brush. She paused, instinctively glancing toward the antique rack beside her. The sound had clearly come from behind the wooden shelf.
Xue Qingzhi had heard it too. She frowned and said, “This base slave—even after punishment—still refuses to behave and dares disturb Imperial Sister while she’s painting.”
With that, she rose to her feet, leaning on Ah Xiao’s hand. She walked to the antique rack and twisted the White Rabbit Jade Carving on the top shelf.
With a creak, the mechanism turned.
The hidden door slowly swung open. Xue Yunyi immediately spotted Wu Lang huddled in the corner. The young man was covered in mottled bloodstains, his handsome cheeks streaked with moisture like teardrops.
He had lingered too long in the darkness. The piercing daylight dazzled Wu Lang’s eyes, leaving him momentarily blind. He could see nothing, only hearing Xue Qingzhi’s impatient command: “Get out.”
No sooner had she spoken than Xue Yunyi watched the blinded youth crawl forward without a moment’s hesitation, groping ahead in terror.
She tightened her grip on the brush in her hand, her heart filled with an indescribable emotion.
His fingertips brushed against something—like wood caked with dirt—and Wu Lang paused, slowly realizing it was Xue Yunyi’s wheelchair.
He quickly pulled back a little. As his vision gradually cleared, Xue Yunyi’s face came into view.
She gazed at him, her brows and eyes serene, like a Bodhisattva with downcast eyes.
Remembering Xue Qingzhi’s warning from the day before, Wu Lang hurriedly bowed his head, not daring to look again. He dragged his numb knees toward Xue Qingzhi at the side, humbly pressing his forehead to the floor before the tip of her shoe.
“Base Slave disturbed the Princess’s rest. Please punish Base Slave.”