Chapter 75

Chapter 75: Why Not?

“Why not?” Sheng Zhi Wan’s voice held a calm, almost teasing edge as she gazed into the bronze mirror. “Don’t forget how Meng Yang entered this manor.”

She had been waiting—waiting patiently for this very day, keeping Huan Zhu by her side all this time.

Once a rule is broken, it’s no longer sacred. What happens once will surely happen again. When the gate is opened for one, many more will force their way through.

Meng Yang was but a peasant girl, yet because of a single accident that entangled her with Qi Shu Xian, she became a mistress of the Duke’s household. Then why couldn’t it be Huan Zhu next?

Staring into her own reflection, Sheng Zhi Wan smiled faintly. [Two people locked in a struggle is far too lonely. With a third, perhaps I won’t be the only target of Qi Shu Xian’s desires anymore.] Let him prove himself—if he could swear loyalty with such conviction, let her see whether he could still resist when the same temptation was laid before him once more.

Huan Zhu acted swiftly.

The next evening, just as twilight cloaked the manor in a hushed quiet, she waited patiently along the path from Mountain Mist Courtyard toward Endless Courtyard. In her hands, she cradled a small food box with a bowl of steaming medicinal soup, timing her steps just right.

As expected, she met Qi Shu Xian head-on.

Upon recognizing her, Qi Shu Xian came to a halt. “What are you doing here?”

He had barely endured the cold treatment from Sheng Zhi Wan yesterday. Now, her maid was standing outside his courtyard?

Ha.

His gaze flicked to the food box in Huan Zhu’s hands. “Did the Heir Consort send you with this?”

“N-no… This was made by this maidservant… for you, my lord.” Huan Zhu lowered her eyes demurely.

Yet Qi Shu Xian only became more convinced that this was Sheng Zhi Wan’s doing. It was just like her—to sulk and quarrel, yet refuse to bow her head. Instead, she would quietly send a token of goodwill through someone else’s hand.

He hadn’t planned to respond. But then his thoughts drifted to the delicate smoothness he had touched the night before—the soft waist, the warm skin. His resolve wavered.

[Fine.] He reasoned to himself. [If I eat this, it gives her an excuse to come back down from her pedestal. Tonight, I’ll go to Pinglan Residence.]

With that, he returned to Mountain Mist Courtyard and motioned for Huan Zhu to open the box.

Inside was a plate of dainty hawthorn cakes and a bowl of gently warmed rice wine.

This pairing—he remembered it. Sheng Zhi Wan had made the same before. The flavor had never matched the restaurants’, but it had carried something better: sincerity.

Qi Shu Xian, lost in those thoughts, accepted the offering and let Huan Zhu pour him a small bowl.

“My lord, this really was made by me,” Huan Zhu repeated softly.

He simply nodded, indifferent. [Women are impossible creatures. Clearly, they want to make peace, but must always do it in a roundabout way.]

He had barely finished half the bowl when a strange heat began curling in his belly.

Too late.

The drug had already taken hold.

A flush of heat spread from his core, rising fast and fierce. His breath grew ragged, his gaze locked onto the woman before him, and suddenly—her fragrance overwhelmed his senses.

Even though he knew she was just a maid… his body no longer cared.

His desire blazed, tearing his thoughts apart.

“My lord?” Huan Zhu’s voice trembled. She hadn’t expected the drug to take effect so quickly. But in mere moments, she could see it—his eyes were burning with hunger.

Her heart pounded wildly.

The man before her was handsome beyond reason, talented in both word and war. He was the Duke’s heir—a man she had only dared to admire from afar. And now, those scorching eyes were pinned on her.

“Are you feeling unwell?” she asked, stepping closer.

She was trembling. Not from fear, but from joy.

This man, the one she had yearned for, was now looking at her as if she were the only woman in the world.

She reached out gently.

But in the next instant, a large hand clamped around her slender throat.

Huan Zhu’s eyes widened in terror.

Though Qi Shu Xian had been drugged, the poison hadn’t stolen all his clarity.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, lifting her effortlessly. “You dared drug me?”

“Kh… kh…” Huan Zhu thrashed desperately, her voice trapped in her throat.

Her struggle only sharpened the fire coursing through Qi Shu Xian’s veins. He flung her aside violently, stumbling to the door.

He needed Sheng Zhi Wan.

She was his wife. She should be the one to help him through this.

But before he could take more than a step, the searing heat in his abdomen nearly buckled him. Behind him, Huan Zhu’s soft weeping curled through the air like a siren’s call.

It clawed at his resolve.

He turned back suddenly, dragged her up from the ground.

Fear flickered in her gaze, but beneath it shimmered a glint of seduction.

[So… even the heir can’t ignore me.]

If a farm girl like Meng Yang could share a spring night with him and carry his child, then why couldn’t she—Huan Zhu—be the next?

Her delicate arms slid around his back.

Qi Shu Xian clenched his eyes shut. The fire was consuming him. And because it had no outlet, it was now laced with a maddening pain.

With a growl, he gave in.

He pressed her down beneath him.