Jiang Nong was not suited to be caught in the vortex of power. Many things, placed in Yu Lingxin’s position, she simply couldn’t handle. She had no ambition, nor ruthlessness. She also knew well that power struggles could not be settled without bloodshed. The peaceful transfer of power visible to the people was always soaked in blood behind the scenes.
Who was righteous and who was evil? In the vortex of power, it was impossible to tell.
One person climbed up over a mountain of bones, only to be trampled down by the next.
Situ Ming had been arrogant, bullying and tyrannical—no kindly figure either.
People had two sides. He was loyal to the late emperor and to the royal house—but also cruel to his political enemies.
The struggles between the powerful were like two people hacking at each other with swords—each fighting desperately, life and death. The common people were the unarmed bystanders caught in the middle, occasionally wounded or shoved forward as shields. Jiang Nong was not one to pity those who held weapons—her sympathies lay more with the innocent.
In Yu Lingxin’s words, Jiang Nong possessed “great love”—she would always pity those who suffered.
If he weren’t emperor but a beggar, Jiang Nong wouldn’t dislike him.
People were wretchedly greedy. Once life became a little better, greed and delusions would surface. When desire ran rampant, they’d create their own unhappiness—knowing it would end badly, yet still seeking that misery, as if doing so would prove something.
Yu Lingxin had so many ways to strip Situ Ming of power—many that wouldn’t even reach Jiang Nong’s ears. Yet he chose the one that forced her to see, dangling it on that taut thread of tension.
After his illness, Jiang Nong had treated him much better.
He both wanted her to see and feared her seeing—yet told himself: what did it matter if she saw?
But when Jiang Nong truly learned everything, he ended up watching her mood instead.
Jiang Nong treated him the same—he felt uneasy. If she grew cold, he would surely ask himself at night why he had chosen to do this.
In the end, everything would return to the start: Jiang Nong would loathe him more, and he would smoothly settle into hating her back—feeling relieved.
When it came down to it—testing, pulling, endlessly tormenting himself—what did he really want?
He wanted Jiang Nong to see him—to repeatedly confirm that she was seeing the Yu Lingxin of the present, and gradually accept him.
Every time Jiang Nong showed him a sliver of kindness, he would remind her who he was.
After Jiang Nong gave him a bit of goodwill without showing resentment over the Situ Ming affair, and after two days of confirming it, Yu Lingxin seized the opportunity.
First, he casually leaned his head on Jiang Nong’s shoulder. Then he edged closer and closer, his breath spilling over her neck, tickling her skin. Then his cool lips brushed against her, kissing, sucking, leaving teeth marks on her skin.
Yu Lingxin used to always test the waters—a handhold here, a kiss on the cheek there. Jiang Nong had been uncomfortable at first, but she’d gradually grown used to it. He wouldn’t listen to words, and it wasn’t worth hitting him for, so she gave up resisting.
Now, Yu Lingxin holding her hand had become completely natural.
But now, she could clearly feel his kiss probing lower into her collar—wet, like a snake flicking its tongue.
She jolted and slapped him.
Yu Lingxin finally behaved, lifting his head from her collar and flopping onto her lap, using her thighs as a pillow to calm down.
Jiang Nong didn’t want to look at him. She threw a bolster at him, telling him to cover his face.
After the New Year, the first spring rain of Jingzhe descended, and there was much to be done.
First, Yu Lingxin dispatched Tan Jingming to Qi Prefecture to oversee dam construction, allocating three million taels of funding.
Next, the emperor and empress were to perform the ceremonial spring plowing at the outskirts, praying for favorable weather and a bountiful harvest.
Customarily, it was just a formality. After sacrificing cattle and sheep, the emperor would symbolically pluck a few blades of grass, take a few steps with a golden plow while the empress supported it. The Minister of Agriculture would dig a few holes, the emperor would place a few seedlings in the field, the minister would cover them with soil—and spring plowing was considered complete.
After all, royals raised in luxury would only embarrass themselves if they actually had to farm.
Then the emperor and empress would sit with the farmers, who would present their fruits and crops. The imperial couple would taste them, then follow a pre-set script of questions and answers from the Minister of Agriculture—discussing a peaceful and prosperous era. It was all a performance of benevolence and concern for agriculture and farmers, a scene of harmonious merriment that pleased everyone.
Aside from the trip to Shanglin Garden, this would be Jiang Nong’s first time leaving the palace. She tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
She knew nothing about farming. But as far as she knew, Yu Lingxin did. During his time in Xi Kingdom, to save money, he had cleared a vegetable patch in his courtyard and built a few pens to raise chickens and ducks—to improve their meals and sell the surplus outside the palace.
“The only way to truly know how the people live is to see them with your own eyes and hear what they say. The Minister of Agriculture has already arranged everything—every word from them will be scripted.”
Yu Lingxin had already been asleep, but she’d woken him up. In his arms, Jiang Nong twisted and turned like a fish that couldn’t be caught.
First she asked how to sow seeds, then how to handle the farmers tomorrow.
Yu Lingxin buried his face in the curve of her neck, took a deep breath, perked up significantly, and said: “I’ll teach you tomorrow. The Minister of Agriculture did prepare a script of questions and answers—but I haven’t looked at a single line. I can’t be bothered to act with them. There are farmers and tenants on the estates outside the city. We’ll go see them tomorrow.”
He pressed Jiang Nong’s head into his chest and patted her hair: “Sleep now. We have to leave before dawn for the sacrifice tomorrow—can you get up?”
“Of course I can!”
Yu Lingxin fell silent. He’d forgotten—Jiang Nong wasn’t like him. Even if she stayed up all night, she could still show up at the Academy bright and alert the next day.
Eyes closed, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her. The kiss deepened, and he grew hard against her—and as expected, received a light slap. Jiang Nong went quiet and didn’t dare move.
Yu Lingxin was long used to it. He could taste a bit of broth, but the meat never made it to his mouth before the slap landed. He had plenty of experience in restraint—he could stay perfectly still even when bursting.
A bit more awake now, he nuzzled against her hair and laughed softly: “I’m awake now. If you want to talk, I’ll keep you company.”
…
Jiang Nong was silent for a moment. “You should sleep.”
She’d been too generous with him lately—now he dared to act this way.
But she wasn’t a man. She didn’t really understand.
Yu Lingxin pressed a series of soft kisses along her jaw, calming himself down. Jiang Nong still couldn’t help asking: “Why does it always do that?”
“Do what?” He knew perfectly well.
“Why does touching you—or even just being close—make that thing… you know… that… um…” She was too embarrassed to say it clearly, turning her head away with an awkward cough.
Yu Lingxin made a thoughtful sound. After a long pause, he said: “If we’re going to get into it, we have to start from the previous life. If you dare to hear it, I dare to say it.”
Jiang Nong had a feeling it wouldn’t be anything good and told him to forget it. Yu Lingxin was actually a bit shy too—but the moment Jiang Nong got flustered, he became brazen instead. She refused to listen, but he kept talking anyway.
“I’m young. You smell so good—what am I supposed to do if I get hard from just smelling you? Who told you to keep rejecting me?” As he recalled, his gaze grew distant and hungry.
Utterly shameless. Jiang Nong covered her ears and hid under the blanket.
Yu Lingxin chased after her, clinging: “Actually, it’s not always like that. Sometimes just one look from you is enough. You asked—so why won’t you listen now? Come out and hear it.”
Yu Lingxin was also frustrated—he hadn’t expected to be caught like this. Was the difference between now and the first time really that obvious?
Jiang Nong grabbed the blanket and pressed herself under it, muffling her voice: “I don’t want to hear it! That’s too depraved—can’t you just take care of it yourself?”
“Can’t finish,” his voice dropped, his chin resting on the back of her neck, tone wet and pleading. “Wasn’t it good last time? Why do you always refuse me? Tan Kingdom needs a crown prince too. There’s no way a married couple acts like this. If you really won’t, then… just touch me, please?”
His lust had taken over. Normally, no matter how much he thought about it, he wouldn’t use such a pleading tone with Jiang Nong. If she refused and slapped him, he’d only lose face—and how could he still talk about hating her with peace of mind?
He was testing her—seeing how far her recent softness would stretch.
“Just touching—that’s enough?” Jiang Nong asked uncertainly. Yu Lingxin had never forced anything on her for so long. Since he was so loyal and had no one else to help him… maybe she could help a little…
“Yeah. Since you find it annoying—just touch it and it’ll be done.” Yu Lingxin’s lashes lowered, a smile on his lips. He took her hand, half-lying on top of her, chin resting in the curve of her neck, guiding her hand down. He deliberately let out an indulgent breath against her ear.
Jiang Nong glanced up uncertainly a few more times. For the sake of his obedience, she touched him—then yanked her hand back as if burned—but he pressed it back.
She was stunningly beautiful—those bright, clear eyes fixed on him, her pert nose, lips parted like rose petals, the tip of her tongue just visible, as if inviting him to kiss and linger.
Yu Lingxin’s gaze darkened. He dipped his head, pressed a messy kiss to her lashes, then took her mouth, prying open her teeth, swallowing her small sounds along with her breath.
Nearly half an hour later, he finally released her. Jiang Nong’s collar was a mess, her cheeks flushed pink, breathless and dazed.
Her hand was sore and numb, almost raw, sticky. She raised it and slapped him.
Didn’t he say just once?
The slap was light. Yu Lingxin turned his head with it, caught her fingertips, swirled his tongue around them, then dipped down to kiss her again, laughing softly, and asked with ill intent: “Did you taste it?”
The next morning, mist hung thick and heavy, the sky still dark. Jiang Nong shook her still-numb arm, scanning the still-sleeping Yu Lingxin. She couldn’t hit his face—it would show.
She pinched the soft flesh on the inside of his arm and twisted hard, calling out: “Get up!”
Yu Lingxin let out a muffled groan, covering his face. It took him a long moment to recover from the sharp sting.
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