Mo Ying ladled two pieces of pigeon meat from the soup tureen into a porcelain bowl beside Xue Yunyi’s hand to let it cool. With heartache in her voice, she urged, “Your Highness, you should eat some too. You’ve been staying up too late these past few days and have lost weight. You need to nourish yourself properly.”
Xue Yunyi’s mind was preoccupied with Wu Lang. She absentmindedly pushed the bowl a little farther away. “Tomorrow, take This Palace’s palace token and go to Kaiyuan Temple. Ask Abbot Linghui if he would be willing to take Wu Lang in. This Palace has some acquaintance with him, and he has always been kind-hearted. He should not refuse.”
This was the safest plan Xue Yunyi could devise. A Buddhist temple was a place of purity. Even if Xue Qingzhi suddenly remembered Wu Lang someday, she wouldn’t dare make a scene to demand him back. Moreover, Abbot Linghui was highly respected and deeply cultivated in his practice. The Emperor believed devoutly in gods and Buddhas and held him in great reverence. No matter how willful Xue Qingzhi might be, she wouldn’t dare throw a princess’s tantrum in Linghui’s presence.
Mo Ying nodded. “Yes, this servant will go tomorrow.”
The conversation between mistress and servant reached Wu Lang’s ears outside the bedroom door, every word crystal clear.
His entire body went rigid, his mind blank. Over and over, a single terrifying thought repeated in his head.
The Eldest Princess didn’t want him.
The Eldest Princess was going to send him away.
Wu Lang was utterly convinced that no matter where he hid, if Xue Qingzhi wanted to find him, it would take only the flick of a finger—he could never escape. The mere thought of that nightmare of a face made him tremble in fear.
Liu Yin pushed open the door to the hall. The familiar creaking sound made Wu Lang’s body shudder violently.
A celadon incense burner filled the air with sandalwood.
The scent was serene and gentle, worlds apart from the cloying sweet fragrance that perpetually burned in Xue Qingzhi’s bedroom. It was comforting to breathe in.
Yet it only made Wu Lang more uneasy. After a long while, he finally dared to cautiously lift his gaze toward the Eldest Princess seated at the rosewood octagonal table.
Xue Yunyi glanced sideways and couldn’t help frowning. The youth knelt just beyond the threshold, the picture of perfect obedience. The bloodstained iron chain around his neck dragged along the ground, clinking with every step.
Liu Yin explained helplessly, “Your Highness, he… he seems accustomed to doing this. This servant couldn’t change his mind.”
“Never mind. Bring him in, and all of you withdraw.” Xue Yunyi rubbed her brow and gave the order.
“Yes.”
Liu Yin escorted Wu Lang to the side of the table, then withdrew with Mo Ying. The hall now held only Xue Yunyi and Wu Lang.
She studied the youth’s pale, gaunt face and let out an involuntary sigh. Her palace had no men’s clothing, so she had ordered the servants to find the smallest guard uniform available for him to wear temporarily. Even that hung loosely around his waist.
Xue Yunyi didn’t dare imagine the extent of his suffering. A pang of sour ache filled her chest. After a moment of silence, she was about to ask if his wounds still hurt or if he was feeling better when she saw the youth proactively scoop up the iron chain from the floor. Meekly, he offered it to her with both hands.
Xue Yunyi froze, staring at him in disbelief. Wu Lang’s face betrayed no extra emotion, remaining cool and detached, as if he were performing the most ordinary task in the world.
This was the “rule” Xue Qingzhi had drilled into him. Day after day of repetition and brutal conditioning had etched it into his very bones alongside the pain, turning it almost into instinct.
Xue Yunyi didn’t take it, so he held it aloft with his bruised and purple palms, beaten raw from punishment.
He wanted to be more obedient.
Only by being more obedient might there be a chance of being kept.
Xue Yunyi’s heart couldn’t bear it, so she finally accepted the chain.
“Thank you, Your Highness… for saving this base slave,” Wu Lang rasped, then kowtowed heavily.
“No need for such formalities with This Palace.” Xue Yunyi felt a little flustered. “Stay here at ease for the next few days. Once your injuries have improved a bit…”
She had barely begun when she noticed fear blooming in Wu Lang’s eyes, as though she had uttered something horrifying.
“Please, Your Highness, don’t drive this base slave away.” The youth’s dark eyes quivered as he begged incoherently. “This base slave will do anything for Your Highness… Please take this base slave in.”
“But…” Xue Yunyi furrowed her brow.
Staying here wasn’t truly a good path for Wu Lang.
She had never kept… a man at her side before. She had no experience caring for the wounded either. She feared she couldn’t look after him properly.
The hesitation in Xue Yunyi’s eyes threw Wu Lang into panic. He pressed his lips together tightly, then—as if steeling himself—slowly untied the belt at his waist. The loose upper garment slipped from his shoulders.
“You can use this base slave however you wish,” he said. He paused, his voice softening further. “In any way at all.”
Xue Qingzhi had told him his only redeeming quality was his face. He had nothing else to offer, so he could only use this body—which could at least endure—to plead for Xue Yunyi’s mercy.
The youth’s sudden action left Xue Yunyi stunned for an instant before she snapped back to herself. Her eyelid twitched sharply, and her heart pounded.
Interlacing whip marks crisscrossed his pale skin. Silver studs jutted askew, crusted with dried blood. Faint outlines of abdominal muscles lingered, but his extreme emaciation left only protruding ribs, rising and falling cautiously with each breath.
Though scarred and battered, it was undoubtedly a beautiful body.
And its owner knelt before her now in perfect submission, adopting a posture humble as dust to beg her, to fawn over her.
Xue Yunyi’s heart filled with unprecedented shock. She had read ten thousand scrolls and studied a thousand principles, yet nothing prepared her for how to navigate this excruciating situation.
After a long moment, she forced herself to remain calm. She turned her face away and ladled half a bowl of soup to hand to Wu Lang.
“Put your clothes back on properly. Don’t catch a chill. Drink some soup first to warm your body. This matter… it’s not urgent right now. Just focus on healing and don’t let your thoughts run wild.”
Wu Lang’s eyes darkened. He lowered his gaze in humiliation and hastily pulled his clothes back together.
As expected, the Eldest Princess had no desire to touch him. His body was filthy beyond redemption; even a glance would disgust her. He was truly shameless…
Wu Lang bit his lip as he stared at the steaming bowl of pigeon soup. Unpleasant memories surfaced, but after a moment’s hesitation, he accepted it respectfully. In a soft voice, he said, “This base slave thanks Your Highness for the reward.”
Xue Yunyi breathed a sigh of relief, already pondering how to get Wu Lang to stop calling himself a “base slave.” Lost in thought, she picked up a piece of pigeon meat from her bowl with her chopsticks. In her peripheral vision, the sight before her shocked her anew.
The youth lay fully prostrated at her feet, quietly lapping at the soup in his bowl as if oblivious to the heat. This too was one of the rules he had learned—his lowly status forbade him from sharing a table with his master, let alone standing to serve.
Xue Yunyi hastily set down her silver chopsticks. She leaned forward and snatched the bowl from before him, her tone rising with anxiety. “Don’t you know it’s hot? Do you not care about your tongue anymore?”
The soup had just come straight from the tureen. Without blowing on it carefully, it could scald the skin right off. How could he treat his own body so carelessly?
Wu Lang lifted his face in shock. He had no idea what he had done wrong to displease Xue Yunyi, but instinct drove him to apologize. “This base slave kn—”
A spoonful of soup, carefully blown cool, pressed to his lips.
Wu Lang’s dark eyes flew wide, his words dying in his throat.
“Don’t drink hot things straight; you’ll scald yourself. And from now on, no more eating like that—understood?” Seeing the youth looked frightened again, Xue Yunyi patiently softened her voice.
“Yes… this base slave will remember.”
Wu Lang blinked, staring at the spoon at his lips but not daring to move.
Xue Yunyi sighed. “Open your mouth.”
At her command, the youth obediently parted his dry lips. That meek demeanor made Xue Yunyi feel as though she had raised a little dog.
An unfamiliar sensation stirred in her chest. She pursed her lips awkwardly and continued feeding him, one spoonful at a time.
The richly stewed pigeon soup warmed his stomach from within. Wu Lang could scarcely believe he was eating food this fine—and being fed it personally by the Eldest Princess. When he finished half the bowl, Xue Yunyi asked warmly if he wanted more. He shook his head frantically, panic in his voice. “This base slave is already full. Thank you, Your Highness, for the reward.”
His condition truly wouldn’t allow for more food, so Xue Yunyi didn’t insist. She glanced at the dark iron chain clutched in her hand. One end was fastened to the youth’s slender neck, the lock solidly welded shut, bearing only a prominent character: “Lang.”
“I have to get this thing off him first,” she sighed to herself. She summoned Mo Ying and instructed her to fetch Hidden Moon.
Mo Ying soon arrived with the wooden box containing Hidden Moon. The dusty treasure blade gleamed with a silvery sheen like fresh snow once drawn from its sheath, its tip curving like a crescent moon, its edge emitting a bone-chilling frost.
Profound iron was incredibly tough; an ordinary blade would be useless against it. This Hidden Moon dagger was a treasured heirloom of the Jiang Family, capable of cutting iron like mud and unmatched in sharpness. It might just work.
It had once been Empress Jiang’s favorite possession. In her maiden days, she had wielded a blade with masterful skill—a talent handed down through generations of the Jiang Family. But after entering the palace, the Emperor had issued a strict order forbidding her from ever touching a knife again.
And so, Empress Jiang had given Hidden Moon to her.
She had begun practicing the blade at ten years old, hiding it from the Emperor and from all the eyes in the palace that watched her and her mother so closely. Aside from sleeping, the knife had scarcely left her hand. At such a young age, she had already worn thick calluses and blisters across her palms. In the end, she had not disappointed Empress Jiang’s expectations; she had mastered the art. Yet Empress Jiang would never again patiently hold her hand, guiding her again and again on how to grip the hilt and execute elegant maneuvers.
Xue Yunyi lowered her gaze, suppressing the thoughts stirring in her heart. She took out a cloth and gently wiped the blade clean before pressing its edge against the sturdy band of profound iron around the young man’s neck.
The bright tip of the blade nearly touched his jaw.
Wu Lang stiffened, a wave of intense unease surging through him. He had no idea what Xue Yunyi intended, but he obediently tilted his head back to accommodate her.
“Don’t be afraid. This Palace just wants to help you take it off.” Xue Yunyi paused, then reversed her grip on the hilt, turning the blade around.
“Yes.”
Wu Lang swallowed hard, his hands instinctively clasped behind his back in a silent display of submission.
Rip.
The razor-sharp edge slowly sliced into the cold iron, carving out a notch. Xue Yunyi twisted her wrist, and the cut deepened. The back of her hand inadvertently brushed against Wu Lang’s face, and she clearly felt him trembling in fear. Her focus wavered for an instant, and she lost control of her strength.
The blade tip pierced into Wu Lang’s flesh, drawing a fresh line of blood.
Xue Yunyi panicked. Wu Lang, however, bit his lip and endured without flinching. She watched in horror as the blood welled up more and more, yet the injured youth still carefully watched her expression—even leaning forward half an inch to meet the blade.
Her heart lurched in alarm. She hastily withdrew her hand, and the iron band snapped in two. She roughly tore it away.
“Are you an idiot? Why didn’t you dodge?”
Xue Yunyi hurriedly pressed a cloth to his wound. In her agitation, her tone sharpened.
Wu Lang was unaware he was bleeding. He only knew he must have done something wrong, angering the Eldest Princess, who was now scolding him. His beautiful pupils contracted in fear. Without the slightest hesitation, he raised his hand high and brought it down toward his own face.
“I’m sorry. This Base Slave knows his mistake. This Base Slave will punish himself. Please… don’t drive this Base Slave away.”
The sharp slap echoed through the bedchamber.
Each strike was delivered with full force, without a hint of slacking, until his already swollen cheeks were battered into an even more pitiable state.