Jiang Nong had an instinct that something was off—though she couldn’t put her finger on it—but Yu Lingxin had already stepped forward and hurriedly pulled her out of the Punishment House.
The cold, fresh air filled her lungs, easing her breathing. But the smell of blood clinging to Yu Lingxin was still strong, wrapping around her, making her nauseous. She wanted to step away, but he had already wrapped his arms around her, and the thick, sickly sweetness choked her.
But Yu Lingxin was trembling. She could feel his hands shaking violently against her back. He said, panic-stricken: “Sister, please don’t be angry. This really is the first time I’ve done something like this. I was forced into it. I was afraid you’d hate me if you found out, so I tried to hide it.”
He had found her weakness with ease. Holding her breath, Jiang Nong hugged him back and patted his back gently.
“Sister, I shouldn’t have let you see that—did it scare you?” His low, hoarse voice brushed against her ear.
“I’m alright. But you look terrified right now.” Jiang Nong had witnessed far more brutal scenes in her past life. Yu Lingxin had always been unhinged, regularly dragging people before her to be executed, forcing her to watch a living person being dismembered piece by piece—using such bloody spectacles to torment her. At first, she’d had nightmares every night; later, she only felt sick.
For Yu Lingxin—someone who couldn’t even bear to kill a rabbit—to suddenly do something like this was indeed hard for her to accept at first.
“Officials of the Court of the Imperial Treasury colluded with the Yellow Gate attendants, taking advantage of the chaos to steal and sell palace goods, embezzling and taking bribes… I didn’t want to do this, but I felt I couldn’t keep making you worry. I need to be a husband—to take responsibility.”
Comforted by her, he seemed to calm down a little. He lifted his head from her shoulder, cupped her face—his cold hands reeking of blood, still trembling—and looked at her through tear-blurred eyes, pleading: “Don’t hate me.”
“I won’t hate you. A Xin is still a good child.” She gently wiped a drop of blood from his cheek with her fingertip. Then his kiss fell upon her—soft at first, just his lips covering hers, accompanied by his hot tears. She didn’t pull away, and he took it as encouragement, pressing harder.
“Don’t call me a good child, Sister. I’m your husband now.” He whispered, cupping her face, coaxing her lips apart, sucking gently. She kissed until her tongue grew numb, her mind blank, clinging to his robe for support, unable to think.
She couldn’t breathe, her vision blurring, the sound of their kissing muffled. But she didn’t push him away—only clutched him tighter, yielding to everything.
Sensing she was about to pass out, a soft chuckle escaped his throat. He finally let her go. Jiang Nong, weak and gasping, leaned against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, using his thumb to wipe the moisture from her swollen lips, stroking them gently. It took her a long while to gather her thoughts.
That vague, inexplicable feeling of wrongness deepened. Yu Lingxin seemed far too skilled at kissing—and the sensation felt far too familiar.
They had kissed in her past life—most of the time with him gripping her jaw, forcing her mouth open. At first, they’d both been breathless, teeth clashing, lips bitten raw—she’d left him bleeding in more places than one.
Her thoughts scattered wildly as Yu Lingxin leaned in, nuzzling her cheek affectionately, coaxing: “Sister, as long as you don’t hate me, that’s enough.”
His eyes sparkled, his lips red and full. He took her hand: “It’s dark—I can’t see the way. Sister, will you hold my hand and lead me back?”
Seeing this, she suppressed her doubts and led him out of the Punishment House, speaking gently: “You can tell me anything in the future. I said I’d face it with you—we’re husband and wife.”
He hadn’t dared tell her, afraid she’d hate him, afraid she’d be frightened by the sight. Hearing that, Jiang Nong’s heart ached for him. So kind, so timid—he must have been struggling alone to digest his fear.
As if sensing her thoughts, Yu Lingxin followed her steps, watching her. The night stars swam and fell in his eyes; the gems in her hair shimmered like waterfalls. He closed his violet eye, trying to read her expression.
In that moment, he suddenly wanted to ask: in her heart, did she love him more, or Chao Ning? Was it love, or pity and duty?
But even if he could see her clearly, he couldn’t see the answer to that question. Her heart held too many people; he was shoved into a corner, insignificant. Only when he was small enough, pitiful enough, did his weight increase by a fraction.
In the end, he didn’t ask. He would get everything he wanted—it was only a matter of time.
He smiled at Jiang Nong and said: “Alright, I’ll listen to you, Sister. We’re husband and wife—we share joys and sorrows.”
…
Night had fallen. Jiang Nong sank into the warm bath, the chill melting away, her body loosening—the bloody scenes washing away with it.
The inner court was empty, and Yu Lingxin’s methods had been harsh, but making an example of a few had made everyone obedient. The vacancies left behind could be filled with their own people. She didn’t like bloodshed, but sometimes, it seemed, only ruthless measures could keep certain people in check.
She ducked her head underwater, blowing bubbles until she couldn’t hold her breath, then surfaced.
Rong Mian massaged her shoulders with a smile, chatting: “Truly, man proposes, God disposes. I’d say heaven rewards good people. Yu Ling—His Majesty has loved you for so many years, always listened to you, and you love him too—it’s a match made in heaven! I used to think he was awful—how wrong I was!”
Jiang Nong teased her: “You gave him plenty of dirty looks in the past. Watch out—he might hold a grudge.”
“Huh?” Rong Mian quickly wrapped her arms around Jiang Nong’s neck. “But Your Highness wouldn’t abandon me!” Then she added, “Xunliang has become a Central Attendant now, and he still remembers your kindness. He even had a big golden statue of you enshrined at Jing’an Temple outside the palace—a true repayment of gratitude…”
Jiang Nong’s smile stiffened as Rong Mian chattered on. She interrupted: “Where did you hear that—about Xunliang setting up an incense offering for me?”
“I heard some young eunuchs mention it. They said Attendant Xunling let it slip once—he’d gone out of the palace a few days ago, came back looking refreshed, and even brought back pastries from Jing’an Temple to share.”
Jiang Nong was skeptical: “Tell them not to spread rumors like that. There’s no proof. If the outer court hears about it, the inner court is still short of funds—where would Xunliang get so much money?”
Rong Mian quickly covered her mouth and nodded earnestly. She helped Jiang Nong dry off and dress in her nightclothes.
Silence fell, broken only by the rustling wind outside. As expected, Yu Lingxin—having been jolted by his first brush with blood—couldn’t sleep and clung to her even more, following her everywhere. That night he wound himself around her and asked if he could kiss her for a while.
Jiang Nong was softhearted—too accommodating. When Yu Lingxin kissed her for a while and then asked for more, rolling around with her on the bed, she said nothing. Even when she was kissed breathless, she let him have his way.
Nibbling her earlobe, he whispered coaxingly: “Sister smells so good—I like you the most. Can you like me the most too? Hold me, Sister…”
Young and hot-blooded, newlyweds, intimate with someone they loved—even lying side by side, their minds wandered. Jiang Nong had barely caught her breath when Yu Lingxin pressed close again, kissing her eyelids, his kisses trailing downward—to the tip of her nose, her chin, her neck, finally sucking and biting at her collarbone. He held her hands down, then looked up at her with a pitiful, wordless plea.
His breathing was heavy. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, still yielding, giving him silent permission.
If Yu Lingxin had some dark thoughts, Jiang Nong wasn’t entirely blameless. If she’d occasionally doled out punishment with the reward, if she’d kept the leash a little tighter, the dog would have been much better behaved. Excessive indulgence breeds possessiveness and greed; the dog ends up bullying its master, trying to take control. By now, it was too late to correct him.
Yu Lingxin used his teeth to undo her sash. His sharp teeth grazed her skin, making her tremble.
Jiang Nong wondered if she should take the initiative. At least she had experience—she knew what would feel better. The first time in her past life had been disastrous. This time Yu Lingxin would likely be gentler, but it was still his first time, so he’d be inexperienced—though the thought was still embarrassing.
She hesitated. Then her fingertip was bitten, making her hiss in pain. Her gaze instinctively dropped to Yu Lingxin—and met his eyes, dark as night, now filled with desire and possessiveness, dragging her into a black vortex. Her heart skipped; she instinctively tried to clutch her collar, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. He nuzzled her ear, his hoarse voice pleading pitifully: “Sister, you’re the kindest to me—be even kinder, please?”
His words were obedient, but his actions were the opposite of his usual gentle, submissive self—forceful, controlling. He kissed every inch of her, with none of the awkwardness of a first time. Instead, he was unexpectedly skilled, as if he knew every sensitive spot on her body.
The red candles wept wax, the lampwick crackled. In the clear night, only their entwined breathing remained.
Bright moonlight crept over the pool, mingling with the shimmering water, cold and pale. A small boat broke the surface, ripples spreading as the stream murmured.
Jiang Nong bit her lower lip. Her muddled mind flickered between clarity and haze—but she knew with certainty: No, this isn’t right. Instinct doesn’t lie.
In a flash, all the subtle wrongnesses she’d felt suddenly clicked into place. She’d been completely fooled by Yu Lingxin!
When had it started? Back in Xi, or after he returned to Tan? She should have realized—she’d shared a bed with him for three years—how could she not recognize him?
And now, that old demon was still playing innocent, still acting sweet. A wave of revulsion washed over her, her hair standing on end, as if she’d been plunged into the dead of winter—cold to the bone.
A massive terror gripped her heart.
How terrifying. How disgusting. How stupid she was—why hadn’t she seen it before? Why hadn’t she killed him sooner?
When exactly had he come back?
She wanted to shove him away, to slap him hard—but he had her pinned, and she had no strength to struggle. The moment she managed a sound, he swallowed it with his lips.
Tears slid from the corners of her eyes, soaking into the bedding, leaving a dark stain. She didn’t want to look at him, so she closed her eyes and endured the storm, praying it would end quickly.
Yu Lingxin was still pretending, breathing against her ear, holding her close and pleading pitifully, his voice softer: “Sister, won’t you look at me? Did I do something wrong? Make you uncomfortable? It’s my first time, next time I’ll—”
“Stop pretending.” Finally able to catch her breath, Jiang Nong glared at him coldly. “Yu Lingxin, what are you pretending for?”
Her hair was disheveled, strands clinging to her cheeks and lips with sweat. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, her bare skin covered in bite marks—the picture of passion. But her words were utterly out of place.
She struggled, shouting: “Get out! Don’t touch me!”
Yu Lingxin froze, then bent down in a panic, his firm arms easily overpowering her, kissing her burning cheeks, apologizing carefully—tears nearly falling: “Sister, where did I go wrong? Don’t be angry, alright? I’ll be good.”
He pressed his cheek to hers, clinging, hoping to soften her heart.
Jiang Nong closed her eyes: “I told you—stop pretending. Aren’t you tired?”
“What do you mean, Sister? I don’t understand.”
“Our first time in your past life wasn’t like this.”
Yu Lingxin’s smile froze. He reached for her head: “Past life? I still don’t understand, Sister. Why would we have a past life? I’m sorry—did I bump your head just now? If we had a past life, doesn’t that mean there’ll be a next life too?”
Jiang Nong hadn’t expected him to be so thick-skinned. She let out a slow, heavy breath: “Do you really need me to remind you just how bad your first time actually was?”
She stared at him. He stared back. Their silent standoff swirled in the close, intimate space of the bed curtains—growing thicker, heavier, like an impending storm, eerily still before it struck.
After only a flicker of panic in his eyes, Yu Lingxin seemed even more excited. She saw the corner of his mouth lift, then heard him laugh—like a bronze wind chime groaning in a ghostly draft, rattling, taunting her, tormenting her.
After a long pause, he lazily brushed a strand of hair from her face with his fingertip, tucking it aside. His cool fingers traced her cheek, savoring her fragile, striking beauty. His voice drawled slowly:
“Oh dear—you caught me. What now, Sister? Maybe you’d better just pretend you didn’t know.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, how about that?”
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