Trudging through the sodden, uneven mountain trail, chilled to the bone by the biting wind, Old Meng couldn’t help but think back to Little Feng Xian’s warm bed, her soft, fair face, and her sweet, coy whispers. Compared to this misery, those memories felt like a cruel taunt. He truly felt as though he was the unluckiest man alive.
So, when they turned a corner and suddenly saw two people standing in the middle of the road, Old Meng’s frustration immediately found a new target.
“Are you blind?! Can’t you see the officials on duty? Get out of the way now, or else!”
Despite his loud voice, the two figures in the middle of the road didn’t budge, as if they hadn’t heard a word.
They stood completely still in the center of the path, unmoving.
The two wore light blue garments.
Their faces bore the weariness of long travel, their features marked by the dust of the journey. Yet, their pale blue robes were impeccably clean—not a single speck of mud sullied them.
Their demeanor was calm, almost serene.
It was then that Old Meng noticed one of them was a woman.
A stunningly beautiful woman.
Instantly, the eyes of all the officials lit up, like flies drawn to spoiled meat.
The woman wore a loose, flowing pale blue robe, tied casually at the waist with a multicolored silk sash. Her jet-black hair was gathered loosely, held in place with the same type of silk ribbon.
Her gaze, soft and enchanting, seemed to ripple like water, carrying an allure that was impossible to resist. Each man felt as if she were looking directly at him, and a tingling sensation spread through their bodies, leaving them half-paralyzed with delight.
–– It was as though, in her eyes, she saw the most handsome, gentle, and thoughtful man in the world when she looked at you.
Her every movement, every smile, captivated all eyes entirely; no one even bothered to notice whether her companion was tall or short, handsome or plain.
Old Meng swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he stammered, “Miss, standing in the middle of the road like this... may I ask what business you have?”
The woman chuckled softly, lowering her head.
On the collar of her long robe, a small crescent moon was embroidered.
The collar itself flared slightly like a dove’s wings, revealing a smooth, jade-like expanse of skin that seemed almost tangible in its perfection.
Her neck, exposed to the afternoon’s dim and shifting clouds, carried an unmistakable, primal allure—an almost sinful temptation.
“This little woman merely hopes to ask for a favor from you esteemed gentlemen. I wonder if the officers would be so kind as to grant me this request?”
Her voice was pure enchantment, soft and lilting, each syllable curling delicately, penetrating straight to the bone.
Old Meng felt a sudden rush of heat explode within him, as if a wildfire had ignited in his chest. Meanwhile, Captain Feng’s drool had begun to drip unnoticed. This time, it was he who rushed to speak first.
“May I—may I ask what favor the lady wishes to request of us?”
“I simply wish to ask the esteemed officers for an item,” she said, her voice smooth as silk, “though I wonder if they would be willing to part with it.”
Captain Feng thumped his chest and exclaimed, “Of course! Of course! Whatever the lady desires, we shall gladly provide. There’s nothing under heaven that the Xiang Yang Prince’s Mansion cannot offer!”
The woman lifted her head, revealing a dazzling smile. Her gaze, playful and teasing, was enough to send Captain Feng’s very soul spiraling out of his body.
–– “But all I desire,” she said, her tone sweet and melodic, “is your heads.”
The last syllable of “heads” lingered in the air.
Old Meng suddenly found himself looking at his left eye... with his right eye.
As he tried to say, “What sorcery is this?” he realized his lips had already split into four parts.
Even as he registered that he had been cleaved in two, his mind oddly lingered on the thought that every misfortune in his life had conspired to culminate on this very day.
And then, a mist of blood erupted.
As Captain Feng’s head flew through the air, he managed one last glance. He saw six lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground, his own upper torso still perched on his horse, and under the ominous clouds, the hand that gently wiped a blade with a white silk handkerchief.
In his final moments, he heard that same beguiling voice, still as enchanting as ever.
“Your heart is always more ruthless than mine.”
“All I wanted was their heads.”
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