Chapter 72

Chapter 72: Would You Dare?

The autumn night was bitterly cold.

As Sheng Zhi Wan stepped out of the Joyful Ease Pavilion, her delicate body shivered in the wind.

An Zhi regretted not bringing a cloak, when a flick of black cloth brushed past her and gently draped over Sheng Zhi Wan’s shoulders.

“This…” An Zhi frowned, wanting to decline.

But Sheng Zhi Wan, half-drunk, had already pulled the cloak tighter around her, curling up within its warmth, her eyes nearly closed.

Seeing this, An Zhi swallowed her protest. [Forget it, nothing is more important than the Princess’s well-being.] “In that case, we thank you, Second Young Master Shang.”

Inside the carriage, Sheng Zhi Wan’s drunkenness made her quiet like a child. She curled into a corner and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Even after returning to Duke Qi’s manor, when Shang Hang Yu came to take his leave, she only lazily lifted her eyes in response, uttered a single sound of acknowledgment, then said no more.

An Zhi stepped forward. “Second Young Master Shang, would it be alright to return your cloak another day?”

“Naturally,” he replied with ease.

He watched as the carriage passed through the manor gates. Only when even the sound of its wheels faded into silence did he finally turn and vanish beneath the moonlight.

…

Qi Shu Xian had not slept.

The moment he heard of Sheng Zhi Wan’s return, he came storming to her door, filled with fury.

But when he reached the Pinglan Residence, he was greeted by stillness.

The little maidservants in the courtyard moved softly, quietly removing basins of used water. Even when they noticed his presence, they only bowed with hushed voices, as if afraid to disturb someone.

Qi Shu Xian’s brows immediately furrowed. “Where is Sheng Zhi Wan?”

As he spoke, he moved to push open the door.

But just then, it opened from within. An Zhi and Ting Lan stood there, curtseying and barring his way. “Heir Apparent, the Princess just returned and was utterly exhausted. She’s already resting. If you have something to say, perhaps tomorrow would—”

“Step aside!” Qi Shu Xian’s anger flared.

[She dares to sleep before me, while I wait for her?]

“Your Highness…” An Zhi tried once more to dissuade him.

But Qi Shu Xian no longer cared and forced his way inside.

Sheng Zhi Wan, stirred by the noise, blinked drowsily awake. Dim lamplight brushed across her jade-smooth neck and collarbone. Her cheeks were flushed with wine, and a faint sweet fragrance drifted from the warmth of her bedding.

Her gaze, half-lidded and hazy, shimmered with a beauty both blurred and enchanting.

Qi Shu Xian’s angry eyes dimmed for a moment.

A sudden dryness scorched his throat.

He stepped forward. “Sheng Zhi Wan, didn’t you claim we have never been husband and wife in truth? Very well. Tonight, I’ll grant you that wish.”

Before she could react, he seized her into his arms.

The last threads of drunkenness vanished from Sheng Zhi Wan in an instant. Her whole body bristled in alarm.

“Qi Shu Xian! What are you doing? Let me go!”

“I won’t. You’re my wife.”

His rage had brought him here, but now, with her delicate form in his grasp—soft as though it might break, her ear pale as snow—his gaze darkened with growing flame.

Sheng Zhi Wan struggled desperately.

But he was a man—a soldier trained in martial strength. Her kicks and scratches only seemed to ignite his desire further.

“Let go of me! Qi Shu Xian, you scoundrel, let me go!”

“I said I won’t!”

“You told everyone we’d never been together. Weren’t you full of pity, full of grievance? Then tonight, I’ll ensure you need neither pity nor grievance.”

“Are you jealous of Meng Yang’s pregnancy? Then I’ll give you a child too!”

His voice turned low and fierce. One arm held her like iron; the other yanked at her robes.

With a sudden rip, her crimson inner gown slipped from her shoulders, baring snow-pale skin.

Just as he moved to go further, Sheng Zhi Wan’s hand broke free.

Gathering her strength, she struck him across the face with all her might.

Slap—

Caught off guard, Qi Shu Xian took the blow full on his cheek. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth.

But he didn’t even feel the sting. The heat flaring in his body only intensified. With a low growl, he pushed her beneath him.

Their faces were now so close, he could see every flawless detail of hers—beauty so vivid, skin so pure, she looked like a porcelain doll awaiting the first touch.

“Wasn’t it you,” he growled, “who once cried and refused to eat, just to be married to me? Wasn’t it me you hated for not touching you on our wedding night, for seeking out another woman instead? And now I come to make amends, and you pretend to resist?”

“No matter. You are my wife. For this life, you will always be my wife!”

He bent down, aiming for her lips.

But before he could reach her, something cold pressed hard against his throat.

A dagger.

“Qi Shu Xian,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “go one step further, and I swear, I’ll make you the first man to die in his own bed!”

He froze.

Then gave a chilling laugh. “Would you dare?”

He didn’t believe her.

All she had done—each uproar, each defiance—it was all to spite Meng Yang, all to gain his attention. If she didn’t love him so deeply, why would she care so much?

[She won’t do it. She wouldn’t.]