The night grew darker, and the cold wind outside became even more biting.
Yet inside Han Ning Palace, it was warm—so warm, in fact, that it made one sweat.
Pei Qing stood by the steaming bath, feeling uneasy. She had never served Xiao Jing like this. When he visited the palace, all she did was play chess with him, talk, and pour wine or serve food during meals.
He had always been gentle, possessing the authority of an emperor but never overstepping his bounds with her in private.
But the man before her was different. He was mocking, disdainful, and impatient.
"How long are you going to stand there? Don’t you know how to undress me?"
He frowned and urged her on, prompting Pei Qing to finally move. Her delicate hands reached for Xiao Yuan’s waist, and his eyes darkened. Yet Pei Qing, with her head lowered, remained unaware.
The belt was easy enough to untie, but the buttons at the collar were tricky. They appeared ordinary, but she struggled to undo them. Frustrated, she leaned closer, trying to figure out what was wrong with the garment.
As she drew nearer, her fragrance enveloped him, and Xiao Yuan could hear her soft breathing. The edge of her long sleeve brushed against his fingers, sending a tingling sensation straight to his core.
The next moment, Xiao Yuan grasped Pei Qing's hand.
Her hand was still as small as ever, always cool to the touch, requiring his warmth to heat it.
Pei Qing froze and looked up at him.
For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Xiao Yuan hesitated. But he quickly recovered, his eyes filling with unmistakable disdain as he gripped her hand painfully and roughly guided her in undressing him.
"Like this. Got it?"
When he let go, her once-pale hand was now marked with several red imprints from his fingers. Pei Qing nodded silently and continued to remove his clothing, and Xiao Yuan fell silent. The hall was eerily quiet.
It wasn’t until his undergarments were completely removed that Pei Qing’s face flushed as red as it could get. Only then did the King of Nanchuan speak again.
"The Empress is quite the actress."
It was likely this demure, shy demeanor that had captivated Xiao Jing, making him abandon all other concubines after marrying her. She was allowed to raise the crown prince, with countless rewards at her disposal. If she were to bear another child, that sickly emperor might even hand over the entire empire.
The man now soaked in the warm water, eyes closed, yet Pei Qing could sense a lingering anger in the air.
Had she served him incorrectly? Unsure, she hesitated before tentatively reaching out again.
Xiao Yuan opened his eyes at that moment. But he didn’t move or show any reaction, simply sitting with his back to her.
Her cool hands fell on his shoulders, pressing lightly but steadily.
A soft voice came from behind him, "I heard that today, Your Highness went out of the palace to eliminate the remnants of Prince Yu's faction. After wielding the sword so many times, your body must be weary."
Her hands slowly moved to his firm arms, kneading with care and attention. "I remember… you said that bathing in hot water and using massage techniques could relieve soreness the next day."
It was a method taught to her by a young man who had once been full of energy, always moving, never still. At that time, Pei Qing hadn’t known he was of royal blood, nor that he had grown up in the military, enduring hardships.
And so she had said those words when she left him.
"He’s the Emperor, the most noble man in the world. Marrying him makes me the Empress, with all the treasures of the world at my fingertips. But with you, it’s just coarse tea and plain rice, not even as good as I had it at home. You’re a commoner, with no power or influence. Why should I suffer with you?"
Pei Qing still remembered the disbelief in his eyes.
It was the same disbelief she felt when she later learned that the King of Nanchuan, who dominated the southern region, wasn’t an old man but a handsome young man named Xiao Yuan.
Another stretch of silence followed.
Her words, "I remember,"—were they intentional or not? Was she trying to evoke his sympathy with memories of the past?
Xiao Yuan’s lips curled into an arrogant smile as he pushed her hands away. Pei Qing looked at him, confused.
In the flickering candlelight, his profile was so striking that it was hard to look away, and even his voice was mesmerizing, as if casting a spell: "Go and tell Chu Li to bring wine."
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