He absolutely could not offend the Eldest Princess again.
That was the sole thought in Wu Lang’s mind when he heard Xue Yunyi’s command.
He rasped out a hoarse “Yes,” obedient as always. Only in the shadows where Xue Yunyi could not see, did he reach out expressionlessly and pinch down hard, until a soft mass yielded in his palm.
A trembling breath escaped his thin lips, one he had struggled to suppress. The youth furrowed his brow briefly, then smoothed it out as if nothing had happened, turning back with gentle compliance.
“Wait.”
Xue Yunyi spoke up suddenly.
Wu Lang’s body froze mid-motion, before he was pushed back again without a chance to react.
“Your Highness…?” A hint of unease colored his soft murmur.
Xue Yunyi leaned down close, her faint breath brushing lightly against the bare skin of his lower back. He trembled involuntarily but, without orders, dared not make any extraneous movements.
Frowning, Xue Yunyi’s fingertip tugged aside the loose sash, revealing a narrow whip scar half-hidden along the youth’s waist. The blood scab had already flaked off, leaving only a faint brownish scar, uneven and overlaying a concealed brand.
She had to lean in even closer to finally make out the two characters deeply seared into his flesh.
— “Vile Dog.”
Xue Yunyi’s breath caught.
That day in the bedchamber, in a fit of anger, she had ordered Wu Lang to strip bare. But she had been focused solely on those two pearls and worried he might catch a chill—even while punishing him, she had deliberately used his clothes to cover him—so she had not noticed this hidden spot.
Now, she stared fixedly at it, her throat tight with unspoken emotion. All she could do was trace it tenderly with her fingertip.
How viciously that red-hot branding iron must have pressed into the youth’s pale skin, the fragile flesh charring instantly, white smoke curling up with a horrific sizzle.
Xue Yunyi forced herself not to dwell on the horrors of Wu Lang’s past, but the more she tried, the more vividly those imagined scenes played out—one after another, as if she had witnessed them herself.
Slowly, she withdrew her hand and pressed it to her chest.
Noticing where her gaze had fallen, Wu Lang remained silent and still. Every humiliating mark on his body had already been seen by the Eldest Princess one by one. Now, he felt no embarrassment, only docile submission as she examined him.
Yet a sudden loneliness washed over him. Wounds could heal, but that brand could never be erased.
Xue Qingzhi had imprinted it herself, a constant reminder of his lowly status.
Filthy. Too filthy.
At the thought, Wu Lang wished he could carve out that chunk of flesh right then. If the Eldest Princess permitted it, he would do so without hesitation. Once fresh, clean flesh grew back, whatever the Eldest Princess liked, he would have branded onto himself. Anywhere would do. As many as she wanted. He would gladly bear them all, so long as she liked it.
Wu Lang’s lips parted, an impulse surging to beg Xue Yunyi’s permission. But the words died on his tongue as calm abruptly returned.
A filthy, worthless thing like him—how could he deserve to bear the Eldest Princess’s mark?
He lowered his eyes in gloom, only to hear the Eldest Princess speaking gravely to Mo Ying behind him.
Without permission to turn, he could only stare at the dull gray stone wall before him, his gaze trapped there. Her words reached him faintly; he vaguely caught that she was telling Mo Ying to fetch brush, ink, and painting supplies.
Mo Ying acknowledged the order and left. In the cramped side room, only the two of them remained.
Xue Yunyi turned her face back, and the brand glared brightly into her eyes once more. Her brow furrowed lightly, that stifling ache in her chest lingering, refusing to dissipate. She did not know how Wu Lang had endured it back then. Dazed, she wondered if he, who loved to cry so much, had sobbed from the pain.
In the silence, Wu Lang heard a faint sigh. His heart trembled in response, and he unconsciously clutched the folded clothes on his knees tighter.
Mo Ying pushed the door open and entered, bearing the items Xue Yunyi had requested.
Wu Lang could not resist stealing a glance. On the small table by the bedhead sat a dish of vivid crimson pigment.
Xue Yunyi took the brush from Mo Ying, dipped and ground it in the dish, then explained warmly, “This color is called Crimson Agate Mark. When applied to the skin, it yields a deep, vibrant hue that lasts ten days. It’s perfect for covering scars.”
She paused, her voice softening further. “Covering it up like this will make it look better.”
At her words, Wu Lang’s breath hitched. After a long moment, struggling to steady his pounding heart, he rasped, “Yes. This slave thanks Your Highness for the gift.”
The fine brush tip, soaked in rich Crimson Agate Mark, sent a cool, silky sensation through him, jolting his entire body. This was no dream—it was happening for real.
—The Eldest Princess’s priceless touch of rouge, now falling upon that ugly brand on his body.
She leaned down close, one hand bracing against his waist for support. Unbeknownst to her, in her deep focus, she gripped it tightly.
Wu Lang dared not move a muscle. He could only press his lips together, pinching that disobedient thing soft again and again.
When Xue Yunyi finally finished, cold sweat beaded across Wu Lang’s face.
“There. All done.”
Xue Yunyi set the brush aside and lightly pressed the back of her hand against the still-wet Crimson Agate Mark, leaving a faint imprint for him to see.
“This is the Longevity Tattoo from ancient Southern Frontier rubbings. It symbolizes smooth passage through the seasons and a long, healthy life. This Palace has the same pattern embroidered on her cuffs. Earlier, I couldn’t think of what to draw, so I went with this.” Her tone was gentle.
Wu Lang glanced at the back of Xue Yunyi’s hand, then sneaked a peek at her cuff. Joy swelled tightly in his chest.
They truly matched.
Emboldened by a greedy impulse, he lifted his eyes and whispered, “Then, after ten days…”
The youth’s tentative, cautious expression was utterly endearing. Xue Yunyi could not help curving her lips in a smile. “If it fades, This Palace will simply touch it up again.”
Wu Lang’s eyes brightened. He was about to express his gratitude when a palace maid’s respectful report came from outside the door.
“Your Highness, Li Fuzhong, the eunuch from His Majesty’s side, has come with a message. His Majesty requests Your Highness proceed immediately to the Imperial Study.”
“Understood.”
The Emperor rarely saw her in the Imperial Study. This sudden summons must mean something urgent.
“Is Your Highness leaving?”
The youth’s dark eyes dimmed in an instant.
“Yes.” Xue Yunyi nodded. Seeing his evident disappointment, she soothed him patiently. “If This Palace has time, she’ll come see you again at noon.”
Xue Yunyi forbade him from rising, so Wu Lang could only kneel on the bed and kowtow in farewell. “This slave respectfully sees off Your Highness.”
The door had barely swung open when a chill wind rushed in.
Xue Yunyi looked up at the sky. The heavens were overcast with pale gray, heavy clouds hanging low, as if a storm loomed.
As the wheelchair rolled down the stone steps, she could not resist turning back to instruct him once more.
“It might rain. Remember to close the windows tight. Don’t catch a chill.”
The rain came down fiercely.
Leaving Azure Cypress Palace, the wind had only grown stronger at first. By the time she reached the palace path, raindrops were pelting down relentlessly. Even with Mo Ying holding an umbrella, Xue Yunyi was quite soaked by the time she arrived at the Imperial Study.
Li Fuzhong bowed and stepped forward respectfully to usher her in. The little eunuch trailing behind hurried to lay down a wooden plank.
Xue Yunyi glanced into the Imperial Study. The Emperor sat behind the long desk, his face darkened in a scowl, while Prime Minister Lin stood before it—unrobed in office attire, wearing only a simple pale blue robe. Sovereign and minister faced off in stalemate, locked in prolonged silence.
A bad premonition stirred in her heart.
“This child pays respects to Father Emperor.”
As the wheelchair rolled into the room, she straightened and saluted the Emperor.
But the Emperor did not spare her a glance. His face remained grim as he stared at Prime Minister Lin, knuckles rapping irritably on the desk.
“You truly intend to resign?”
Xue Yunyi’s brow twitched. Incredulous, she turned to Prime Minister Lin.
Prime Minister Lin had received the Late Emperor’s final decree to assist the New Emperor in governance, serving through two reigns for over forty years—steadfast and incorruptible as winter cypress. He had also shouldered the duty of educating the princesses, devoting himself utterly. He was a pillar of the state. Why, out of nowhere, would he seek to retire?
Prime Minister Lin avoided her gaze and bowed solemnly to the Emperor. “This minister’s mind is set, Your Majesty. In consideration of these many years of devoted service to the Southern Frontier, I beg Your Majesty to permit my return to my hometown.”
Mindful of the Late Emperor’s dying exhortation, the Emperor had been muddled and foolish these years, yet Prime Minister Lin had never uttered a word of complaint. But that day, the Emperor had suddenly summoned him to the palace and, without reason, berated him for negligence and laziness in failing to teach the Second Princess into a ruler worthy of the realm.
Lang Province suffered a great drought, and the Eldest Princess, heartsick for her people, racked her brains tirelessly and offered a water-diversion plan—yet the Emperor offered not a single word of praise. Meanwhile, the Second Princess’s foolish whims earned lavish rewards, which she then boasted of throughout the palace: how wise and quick-witted she was, easing the Emperor’s worries at such a young age.
Prime Minister Lin found it laughable.
As Emperor, sovereign of the realm, he cared nothing for the dynasty’s future or the millions of his subjects—only for his petty selfishness, fixated on placing his and his favored consort’s daughter on the throne.
The Southern Frontier’s rivers and mountains would rot in his hands soon enough.
Prime Minister Lin sighed deeply.
The Late Emperor had four sons beneath his knee: the Crown Prince fallen in battle, the Second Prince brilliant yet disillusioned with the world and ordained into Buddhism early on. Only the Fourth Prince could rival the Emperor. Back then, the Emperor’s mother—still merely Consort Shu—had leveraged past favors to plead with the Jiang Family. The Jiangs, ever valuing loyalty, aided Consort Shu and placed the Emperor upon the dragon throne above all.