Thick congee trickled into the cracks of the floorboards, mingling with the unswept dust and grime. It was scalding hot and filthy, just like his wretched body.
Wu Lang pressed his lips together, but after a moment’s hesitation, Xue Qingzhi lifted her foot and ground half his face into the steaming mush on the floor.
“Are you deaf? Didn’t you hear what This Palace said?”
“Mmph…”
Wu Lang let out a muffled grunt. The swelling from the earlier slaps hadn’t fully subsided, and now with this fresh scalding, the pain was excruciating, like flames licking at his skin. Yet that foot showed no mercy—instead, it bore down even harder.
“This Base Slave will… clean it up…”
The young man forced the weak words from his throat, his voice dry and rasping, sounding utterly pitiful.
Xue Qingzhi snorted coldly before finally lifting her foot. Wu Lang coughed violently several times, then mustered his strength to kneel up again. His slender neck bent low as he diligently licked at the still-scalding congee on the floor.
Xue Qingzhi gazed down imperiously at the figure by her feet. Beneath the thin gauze, the young man’s lean waist was faintly visible, crisscrossed with whip marks that looked utterly alluring. His handsome, high-bridged nose rubbed against the ground like a kitten’s, and his scalded tongue, now even redder, extended tirelessly again and again, stained with the snow-white congee.
Pure white, seductive red.
Decadently begging for pity on the young man’s body.
The sight eased Xue Qingzhi’s anger somewhat, but she still refused to let Wu Lang off the hook. The tip of her shoe pressed against the protruding butterfly bones on his back, grinding slowly until she heard the faint crack of joints. Only then did she speak, as if granting a favor.
“Behave yourself, and This Palace will treat you well.”
“Yes.”
His body pressed even lower under her foot, and Wu Lang rasped his response in his mind, wondering how much more obedient he could possibly be. He had already cast aside all dignity and pride, groveling at her feet like a dog—yet it still wasn’t enough for her.
He just wanted to survive.
That was all.
Seeing the young man so meek and submissive, Xue Qingzhi could find no further fault, yet an unease gnawed at her heart. After a long moment, she finally tore her gaze from him, picked up her silver chopsticks again, and casually used Wu Lang as a footstool while Ah Xiao served her meal.
“Princess, as per your orders, this servant has gathered all the pearls from the storeroom. Please take a look—do any catch your eye? This servant can send them to the Imperial Jewelry Bureau right away to have a set of jewelry made.” Only now did Qingdai dare to speak up. She stepped aside, allowing several palace maids to come forward and present the long box they carried to Xue Qingzhi.
The box was filled with pearls of exceptional quality—some bestowed by the Emperor, others sent in secret by courtiers eager to curry her favor. There were even some exceedingly rare specimens among them. But Xue Qingzhi scanned them several times and found none that could compare to the Moon Pearls on that Jade Butterfly Step-Shake.
As Xue Qingzhi’s expression grew darker, Qingdai hurriedly waved for the maids to pack the pearls away.
“These pearls don’t suit the Princess’s tastes. This servant will keep an eye out and gather better ones another day.” She coughed lightly, approached with a smile, and tried to divert her attention. “By the way, this afternoon, Young Master Wu sent someone to our palace. He heard that the Princess has been learning riding and archery lately, so he specially selected a fine horse as a gift. Would the Princess like to go see it?”
Xue Qingzhi scoffed. “He certainly is thoughtful.”
Truth be told, she had no real interest in riding and archery. It was the Emperor who, seeing her cooped up in the palace day after day, had taken it upon himself to summon Commander Lin Yi of the Imperial Forest Army to teach her.
At first, Xue Qingzhi had no desire to learn. She was a princess of the imperial bloodline—dealing with horses and bows was men’s work. But later, she heard from the palace servants that Lin Yi had personally taught Xue Yunyi archery back in the day. After hesitating for days, she reluctantly agreed to let him instruct her.
She refused to let Xue Yunyi outshine her, but riding and archery were far too grueling for her liking. The horses were unruly, the bow unsteady in her hands—she grew frustrated easily and often lost her temper at Lin Yi. Eventually, he began making excuses about duties before the Emperor and only came once every few days.
She had half a mind to have Qingdai return the horse to Wu Hanyu, but then she thought of Xue Yunyi, and Xue Qingzhi suddenly changed her mind.
“It’s been a while since This Palace last rode. Since Lin Yi is so busy, tomorrow This Palace will invite Imperial Sister over to teach me personally.” Xue Qingzhi’s lips curved into a meaningful smile.
At her words, Wu Lang’s movements faltered. The Eldest Princess had impaired legs—how could she possibly mount a horse and ride? Xue Qingzhi’s suggestion was clearly deliberate.
“What are you dawdling for?”
Noticing the young man underfoot had stopped, Xue Qingzhi’s brows furrowed. She shot him a cold glare. “This Palace merely mentioned Imperial Sister, and you’ve already lost focus. Are you still thinking about her in your heart?”
Wu Lang hurriedly gathered himself and murmured softly, “This Base Slave wouldn’t dare. This Base Slave merely…”
He was just so exhausted. Licking for so long had left his jaw numb and senseless. The scabbed-over cuts at the corners of his mouth from the slaps had split open again, oozing beads of blood.
But before he could finish, the iron chain around his neck was yanked viciously upward. He looked up in terror to see Xue Qingzhi clutching a pot of scalding tea in one hand while pinching his jaw with the other, forcing his mouth open. Without a word, she poured the steaming liquid straight onto his tongue.
The young man’s pupils dilated sharply, his body shuddering violently. The unbearable agony left him speechless; he could only gaze at Xue Qingzhi in silent plea for mercy.
“When did This Palace permit you to make excuses for yourself?”
Xue Qingzhi watched coldly as the young man’s handsome face contorted in extreme pain, his long, slender neck still obediently gripped in her hand. With just a bit more pressure, she could easily deprive him of breath.
She stared into Wu Lang’s water-colored eyes for a long moment before releasing him. Leaning down, she enunciated each word to the gasping young man: “Don’t forget the warning This Palace gave you.”
Wu Lang remembered those words clearly, of course—he dared not forget.
Back then, Xue Qingzhi had gently patted his face and softly told him not to like Imperial Sister. He had bowed his head in fearful agreement. In truth, he harbored no presumptuous thoughts toward that serene, bodhisattva-like Eldest Princess.
A filthy, lowly wretch like him—how could he even dream of the moon in the sky? Every time he saw Xue Yunyi, Wu Lang felt his broken, battered body sullied her sight.
“This Base Slave’s heart holds only the Princess—no one else.” Wu Lang lowered his eyes and said what Xue Qingzhi wanted to hear. His tongue was badly scalded, probably swollen now, making speech laborious. He could only pray she heard him clearly and would stop tormenting him.
Xue Qingzhi didn’t catch his mumbled words and frowned in displeasure. Her gaze drifted downward inadvertently, only to see the spilled tea soaking Wu Lang’s clothes, clinging wetly to his slight frame and outlining the taut lines of his lean muscles.
Beneath the damp snow gauze at his chest, the shape of a silver nail was faintly visible.
Xue Qingzhi’s interest piqued.
Ignoring his miserable state, she directly seized the scalded red tip of his tongue and tugged. The young man followed on his knees, stumbling after her toward the bed.
“Serve This Palace well, and I’ll let you off for today.”
It had rained the night before.
The tender green leaves and branches were drenched through, and under the morning sun, the courtyard brimmed with fresh, damp spring vitality.
After breakfast, Xue Yunyi instructed Mo Ying to wheel her out for some fresh air.
She remembered how Empress Jiang had loved weather like this when she was alive. After the rain, with everything washed clean and bright, Empress Jiang would take her hand and lead her up to the Stargazing Tower to gaze beyond the palace walls.
Empress Jiang would point north and tell her that was the direction of Chilly Province, where Uncle and Maternal Grandfather were waiting. In a few more years, they would return to the capital and reunite with them. The young Xue Yunyi had listened in confusion, remembering only the word “reunite.” But even after Empress Jiang passed away in grief, the Jiang family never returned.
Xue Yunyi knew it was because the Emperor forbade it.
For Empress Jiang’s sake, the Emperor harbored deep hatred toward the Jiang family—hating them for claiming the position of mother to the realm, leaving the woman of his heart from Lang Province to languish as a mere consort.
How laughable.
The one who had begged the Jiang family for help back then was him, and now the one hating them was also him.
Since ancient times, how many rulers and ministers had fallen out, often because the ministers’ merits overshadowed the throne? The Jiang family understood this well, marrying their only daughter into the palace to remind the Emperor of their past favors. And if not for the late Empress Dowager’s kindness toward the Jiangs, why would they have chosen the most unremarkable among the Late Emperor’s four sons to make emperor?
The Emperor had agreed readily to establishing a Jiang consort as empress and carried it out swiftly. But not long after his ascension, a great drought struck Lang Province. He went there personally to inspect the plight of the people and fell in love at first sight with that provincial lady.
Others might sigh that the Emperor was romantic, but who dared whisper of betrayal?
These were the things Ah Wan, the chief maid by Empress Jiang’s side, had quietly told her. Back then, Ah Wan had clung to the empress’s coffin, sobbing uncontrollably. She said the lady was pitiable—without family in life, she couldn’t bear to leave her alone in death. And so she had dashed her head against the coffin, following Empress Jiang into the afterlife.
“What is Your Highness thinking about, lost in a daze like that?” Mo Ying asked with a smile. “The weather is lovely today. Shall this servant wheel Your Highness to the Imperial Garden? They say the flowers are blooming beautifully.”
Xue Yunyi came back to herself and shook her head. The painting she had promised Xue Qingzhi wasn’t finished yet. After resting another quarter-hour, she would have to head to Ninghua Palace.
A series of footsteps echoed through the courtyard. Xue Yunyi lifted her head and saw Qingdai approaching. She couldn’t help but frown slightly.
“What is it?”
“Your Highness is well.” Qingdai curtsied to her, her face still wearing that false smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “The Second Princess obtained a fine horse yesterday. Having long heard that Your Highness excels at riding and archery, she specially instructed this servant to invite Your Highness over to offer a few pointers.”
Mo Ying was so furious upon hearing this that she forgot all about propriety and blurted out, “Is the Second Princess forgetful due to her noble status, or is she deliberately trying to upset Your Highness? It was she who left Your Highness confined to a wheelchair day after day, and now she’s putting on this pretense of asking Your Highness to teach her riding and archery. Isn’t that just poking at Your Highness’s sore spot?”
Qingdai merely kept up her smile. “This servant is only here to pass on the message as ordered.”
Mo Ying glared at her, cheeks puffed out in anger, wishing she could curse a few more times to vent her frustration. Xue Yunyi grasped her wrist, signaling her not to say another word.
“It’s rare for my younger sister to extend an invitation, so This Palace naturally cannot decline her kind intentions. However, This Palace’s health is poor these days, and riding and archery are extremely taxing endeavors. I’m afraid This Palace cannot paint for my sister today.” Xue Yunyi looked at Qingdai, her voice calm.
Her ready agreement caught Qingdai off guard for a moment.
“Of course, of course. The painting isn’t urgent—it just needs to be finished before the Second Princess’s investiture ceremony.” Qingdai stepped aside, as if afraid Xue Yunyi might change her mind, and tentatively asked, “Then, shall this servant escort you to Ninghua Palace now?”
“Mm.”
Seeing that Xue Yunyi had truly agreed, Mo Ying grew anxious. She worriedly tugged at her sleeve.
Xue Yunyi curved her lips in a smile, reassuring Mo Ying that there was no need to worry.
How could she not know? Xue Qingzhi merely wanted to use the pretext of learning riding and archery to mock her crippled legs. But if she refused to go, it would only make Xue Qingzhi even more smug.
The Empress Mother had once taught her that the blood of the Jiang Family flowed through her veins. No matter her circumstances, she must remember the Jiang Family’s backbone and never bow her head lightly, lest others look down on her.
Her legs might be crippled, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t ride a horse at all. It was simply that they lacked sensation, so she couldn’t exert any force. She needed assistance to mount and dismount, and the horse had to be a gentle one to control properly.
The wheelchair reached Ninghua Palace, where Qingdai led the way ahead, guiding Xue Yunyi toward the southwest corner.
A side door stood there. Beyond it, following the palace path westward for a hundred paces, lay a training ground in the palace that had lain abandoned for many years. Because it was so close to Ninghua Palace, the Emperor had ordered it cleared up and dedicated it specifically as a place for Xue Qingzhi to practice riding and archery.
“The stables are just ahead. Please select a suitable horse first, Your Highness.” Qingdai turned to her with a sweet smile.
Ninghua Palace housed more than a dozen fine steeds. Xue Qingzhi might not have cared for them, but whenever the Emperor acquired a good horse, he invariably sent it to her palace.
Xue Yunyi’s gaze swept idly over the area before suddenly freezing in place. She stared in shock, for tethered to the railing by the stables was a gaunt young man.
—It was Wu Lang.