Mei Lin certainly didn't take Murong Jing He's words seriously, but when she saw him say it in front of so many people without even blinking, as if he truly meant it, her heart couldn't help but skip a beat. Regardless of whether it was true or not, his words hinted at one thing—he had no immediate intention of taking her life. Realizing this, she felt a sense of relief and stopped resisting. He could say whatever he wanted.
Then, she watched as Yue Qin was "lured away." To say he was lured isn't entirely accurate, though, since with Yue Qin's mindset, even if they hadn't called him to join them, he would have followed them anyway. So when Murong Jing He told him to stay with him from now on, the boy's face lit up with a radiant smile, and Mei Lin's anxious heart settled slightly.
A clay pot was brought in, and the air was soon filled with the rich aroma of stewed meat and spices.
One after another, three large pots were placed on the stove with the fire burning brightly. After Murong Jing He took the first bite, the men gathered in groups of five around the stove and began to eat.
There wasn't enough time to steam fresh buns or cook rice, so Zheng San made some dough and tossed the pieces into the meat broth, making a makeshift meal. Despite Murong Jing He's usual royal indulgence, he wasn't particular about food and lodging. After the meal, he entrusted Yue Qin to the care of the leader of the Tiger Wing, Nu Biao, and then took Mei Lin back to her room.
Mei Lin's heart immediately tightened.
As soon as the door closed, Murong Jing He's expression darkened. His eyes were cold and distant, with a trace of indifference. Mei Lin hesitated, unsure whether to kneel or to try to win his favor by playing nice, when she heard him speak in a calm voice, "Have you been away from the Dark Factory for too long, or have I spoiled you too much that you've forgotten your place?"
Mei Lin's heart jolted, and she instinctively knelt, her gaze fixed on the hard, muddy floor in front of her, her mind blank and unable to think of anything.
"What is the punishment for betraying the organization and fleeing without permission?" Murong Jing He asked as he took two steps closer, stopping right in front of her.
In the past few days, Murong Jing He had been entirely focused on tracking down Mei Lin and the healer. His heart had been filled with a mix of anger from being abandoned and an inexplicable sense of fear and resentment, leaving little room for other thoughts. But the moment he broke down the door and saw her, all his emotions, which had been building to a peak like the raging snowstorm, suddenly drained away. He realized with a start what he had done.
He had personally led the Tiger Wing Seventeen Riders, a force that struck fear into the hearts of enemies on the battlefield, to chase after a single woman. He had left Luo Mei behind. He had mobilized so many resources, sealed off Jingbei, and taken control of Yecheng... all for her.
He had lost his composure.
Once Murong Jing He recognized this, a deep sense of crisis made him instinctively build up his defenses. His rational mind told him that something was wrong with this woman—that the woman who could stand by his side couldn't be her. He believed that just as he had shown her favor, he could also withdraw it. That one wrong step needed to be corrected immediately.
Mei Lin stared at his soft-soled shoes, now wet from the snow. Her mind was in turmoil, unable to decide if she felt sorrow, bitterness, or perhaps even relief. He had clearly established the proper boundaries between them, so why had he chased her all over in the snow, wearing indoor shoes, to capture her?
Just as she was about to reach out and wipe the mud off his shoes, his next words crushed the small flicker of hope she had just begun to feel.
"I won't punish you. In fact, I intend to marry you. But you should know that as the daughter of a prostitute, even if you enter the prince's mansion, you will only ever be a concubine. The positions of primary or secondary wife are out of your reach."
Mei Lin lifted her head. This was the first time anyone had directly mentioned her background to her. She didn't care about whether she was a concubine or a wife—what did that matter to her? But he had called her the daughter of a prostitute. He really had said that.
Murong Jing He had been watching her reaction closely, so when their eyes met, he noticed the longing in her gaze. His expression darkened, and just as he was about to ponder its meaning, she reached out and grabbed the hem of his robe.
"Where is my mother?" Mei Lin used the fingertip of her other hand to write these words on the ground with a bit of force.
Murong Jing He hadn't expected her to care about this. His phoenix eyes narrowed, and feeling a sudden surge of frustration, he kicked her hand away and turned to walk toward the heated bed. Sitting on the edge, he looked at the woman who had resumed her kneeling position and was now gazing at him with hopeful eyes.
"And what right do you have to ask me such a question?" he sneered.
Mei Lin froze for a moment, forcing herself to recall every word he had said earlier, biting back the sharp, twisting pain in her heart as she repeated the words "concubine" and "concubine" to herself over and over.
Then, she slowly stood up, lowered her gaze, and walked to the bed. When she looked up again, her face was adorned with a charming smile.
She took off his shoes and socks, placing his cold feet under the hot blankets. She climbed onto the bed and began to massage his tired shoulders and neck. She let him rest against her soft chest, kissing his face and lips with tender affection. She did everything a concubine should do... all because she just wanted to know if she still had a family.
As she watched Murong Jing He's handsome face soften as he appeared to fall asleep, Mei Lin bit her lower lip and turned her face slightly away. Unexpectedly, a hand suddenly reached up, catching a tear that had fallen from her chin. Startled, she hurriedly wiped her face with her sleeve, and when she looked down at him again, she wore the same gentle, smiling expression.
In Murong Jing He's eyes, dark clouds swirled like a storm about to break. He slowly tightened his fist, which was wet from her tear, and then closed his eyes, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his near-explosive temper. After a long moment, he finally withdrew his hand but suddenly reached into her robe, flipping her over and pinning her beneath him.
"I'll have someone investigate," he said, staring into her calm, submissive eyes. At the same time, his hand slid under her waistband, touching the soft skin that could drive a man mad.
As his rough, calloused hands touched her bare skin, Mei Lin involuntarily tensed. The pain from her first night was unforgettable, and the subsequent encounters were far from pleasant. She had developed a reflexive fear of such intimacy. But Murong Jing He did nothing more than caress her for a while, satisfied with the genuine response from her body, before pulling her into his arms and falling asleep.
She, of course, had no way of knowing that Murong Jing He despised the false submissiveness she was showing, but even more than that, he didn't want to leave any evidence of their intimacy in such a public place.
Even though he really did want her.
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