Chapter 070
Chapter 70: Red Wax, Whip, and the Pitiful Male Favorite
Third Princess Manor.
A spy knelt on the floor, shaking so hard his head pressed to the cold gilt bricks, hardly daring to breathe.
Princess Xuan Ji reclined sideways on a couch covered with an entire white fox pelt. She had just crushed a fine Glazed Cup. Sharp shards sank deep into her palm and split her tender skin; bright drops of blood seeped through her fingers and fell onto the snow-white fur, blooming like eerie red plum blossoms. She acted as if she felt nothing.
What a colossal joke.
She had just learned that the woman she schemed so hard against, Qiu Ru Ying, had almost nothing to do with Lin Qing Xuan. The one he truly kept in his heart was an unknown maid called Xiao Man. After all her careful plotting, after sending out the Flower Viewing Invitation and stirring up the entire Capital City, what was the result?
She had targeted the wrong person from the start.
How could she not be furious? How could she not become a complete fool in front of every elite in the Capital City?
She hissed: “Trash.”
Her chest rose and fell violently, and that stunning face twisted with boundless rage as she snapped: “A pack of trash.”
With a crash, she kicked over the small zitan table at her feet. The delicate tea set and pastries shattered across the floor.
She screamed: “Get out.”
The spy fled as if granted a royal pardon, scrambling away on hands and knees.
Princess Xuan Ji drew a deep breath, forced down the killing urge in her chest, and turned into her bedchamber. Seeing a row of handsome male favorites kneeling inside, she finally found the perfect outlet for her fury.
She swept them with a cold eye and said, sharp enough to cut skin: “What now? Why the droopy faces? Who died that you are mourning?”
She added, voice like a knife: “I keep you so that when I am annoyed, you amuse me, not to stand there with corpse faces and make it worse.”
She snatched up a teacup and, without even looking, hurled it at the head of the foremost man. Scalding tea, mixed with blood, ran down his smooth temple, leaving him pitiful and ragged.
She flicked her fingers and ordered: “Drag him out.”
Her tone was icy as she continued: “Beat him hard. Beat him until he remembers how to smile before me.”
Named and terrified, the man forgot his pain and knocked his head on the floor again and again as he begged: “Princess, spare me. I was wrong. I will never dare again. Please, Princess, spare me.”
Princess Xuan Ji did not respond. She did not even bother to look at him. Two strong guards rushed in and dragged him away like a dead dog. Soon the courtyard filled with the heavy thuds of boards through air and a man’s strangled screams. In the winter stillness, the cries sounded especially chilling.
Princess Xuan Ji did not even twitch an eyebrow. She only frowned in disgust, as if the noise sullied her ears. Her gaze slid to another kneeling favorite. He was exceptionally handsome, his peach-blossom eyes especially alluring, yet now his face was ashen and his body shook like a leaf.
She pointed at him with slim fingers lacquered bright red and said, voice sweet to the point of sickly: “You.”
A cruel smile tugged her lips as she said: “Now, bring me the Golden Whip. I am in a foul mood today. It is the perfect time for you to enjoy the Princess’s special favor.”
A chill seized the man. Despair swallowed him whole. He knew he would not escape today. Shaking, he edged to the weapon rack, took down a long whip, fully gilt with rows of tiny backward barbs, and offered it with both hands.
Her voice held no warmth as she ordered: “Take off your upper robe and kneel properly.”
The man shut his eyes. A single tear of humiliation slid from the corner. He loosed his belt and bared a well-built torso. His back was a map of wounds, old and new crossing in a blur, hardly a patch of unbroken skin. He knelt heavily on the freezing floor, turning that scarred back to the Princess.
Princess Xuan Ji accepted the Golden Whip and weighed it with satisfaction, madness gleaming in her eyes. She called out: “Attend me. Bring the candles burning the hottest.”
With the whip tip, she traced a faded scar across his back and, pleased to see him shaking harder, said with a purr: “This Golden Whip is best paired with blazing red wax. Only then is it truly delicious.”
A maidservant stepped forward with a tray. Several red candles burned high; their flickering light threw Princess Xuan Ji’s face into shifting shadow. She took one, tilted it slightly, and let a drop of molten wax fall onto a small patch of unbroken skin.
Sizzle.
The man’s back bowed like a drawn bow. Muscles knotted to the limit, veins bulged on his forehead, and his teeth ground hard. A bead of cold sweat slid along his hairline. He held the sound in, not daring to make the slightest noise.
She clicked her tongue in displeasure and said: “No cries? I dislike wooden dolls.”
Handing the candle back to the maidservant, she tightened her grip on the Golden Whip and said: “Seems this treasure will open your mouth.”
The whip sliced down with a shrill rush of air.
Crack.
A fresh line of blood burst across his back, flesh laid open. A muffled groan escaped him despite himself.
That strangled sound delighted Princess Xuan Ji. She laughed, bright and venomous, and said: “Yes. That is the right note.”
She leaned close to his ear, breath fragrant, words poisonous: “Scream. Louder. The more miserable you sound, the happier I will be.”
Crack.
Another blow fell, crossing the first to make a bloody cross. The man trembled violently. Cold sweat drenched his hair. He bit his own lip until it bled.
He finally broke and begged in a ragged whisper: “Princess, spare me.”
Princess Xuan Ji laughed as if hearing the funniest thing in the world and said: “Spare you? I am in a very bad mood today. Very bad.”
She hooked the tip of the Golden Whip under his chin and forced up that handsome face beaded with sweat and tears and despair. Her voice turned frighteningly gentle, though her eyes burned with madness, as she said: “All of you useless things. You cannot even handle intelligence without mangling it, and now my plan is the greatest joke in the city.”
She asked softly, cruelty rising: “Tell me, how should I punish you to ease my hate?”
She smiled thinly and murmured: “Why not draw a few lines on your pretty face too?”
The man’s pupils shrank. His face drained of color as the blood-stained, barbed Golden Whip moved closer to his eyes. The fear of death swallowed him whole.