In an instant, Sima Jing thought he must have misheard.
Yet he heard her giggle softly: “They’re red, like peach petals—look so delicious.”
Was she a lecher, or just starving?
His thick brows furrowed, but then he saw the young lady resting against his chest as if under some spell, her long black eyelashes fluttering, and that crabapple-red face inching closer to him…
Had she gone mad?
Sima Jing’s expression stiffened.
Just as he raised his hand, intending to knock her out, the girl suddenly wavered.
The next moment, like a willow branch bent by the wind, she collapsed into his arms with a soft thud.
His hand froze, and he looked down sharply at the girl slumped against him, his brows knitting even tighter.
Moments ago, she was bright-eyed and babbling nonsense with a mischievous grin; now, she was quiet, obedient—like a cat.
“Yun Wu.”
He scowled and pushed her shoulder, “Stop pretending.”
No response.
Instead, her body softened even more under his pressure, sliding down like a boneless rag doll.
Seeing her head about to hit the side of the carriage seat, Sima Jing finally pulled her back.
After some shifting, Yun Ran sat down heavily on the gray sheepskin rug, her head resting just right on Sima Jing’s knee.
As if finally finding a comfortable support she didn’t want to leave, she even lifted her arms to hug his leg.
Sima Jing: “……”
She’s faking it.
She must be pretending to be drunk and dazed to avoid him knocking her out.
“I’ll count to three. If you don’t let go, when we get back, you’ll be fed to the snakes.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“…So noisy.”
Yun Ran frowned, lifting her hand to smack his leg with a “pop,” expressing her annoyance at the racket. “Stop talking. I want to sleep.”
Sima Jing’s face darkened completely.
She kept yammering endlessly, and he didn’t mind—yet now she complained he was noisy?
Not only that, she even dared to hit him?
Ignoring whether he should or shouldn’t touch her, he pinched her jaw firmly, forcing her to look up.
“Yun Wu, you’ve got a lot of nerve.”
“…Big… duster? Hmm, where’s the duster?”
Yun Ran blinked her heavy, intoxicated eyes at the man before her. Sima Jing was much taller, and now sitting beside him on his leg, forced to look up, she saw him like a giant.
“Wow, you’re so big.”
The reprimand caught in Sima Jing’s throat.
Realizing she was babbling nonsense, his forehead twitched sharply.
Glancing at the young lady beside his leg, her cheeks flushed like ripe cherries, yet her eyes clear and misty— like a newborn, bewildered little creature— with the faintest, innocent, and endearing smile at her lips.
Suddenly, the restless heat in his heart flared stronger.
As if it, too, had turned into a beast.
One moment the beast lunged left, angrily roaring at this audacious drunkard— why not just strangle her now to stop her from offending him again?
The next moment, it charged right, whispering wickedly in his ear, Look at her—doesn’t she remind you of Cuibao?
Just as mischievous and lively, making mistakes but always gazing at you with those stupid yet pure big eyes.
Don’t you want to touch her?
Just like how you used to stroke Cuibao gently.
She’s not like Cuibao, cold and slippery— her skin is soft and warm.
You know— you’ve held her hand, her waist—you know how soft it is.
Touch her face.
Anyway, she’s drunk and defenseless now, completely at your mercy…
Don’t you want to try?
That voice kept tempting him. The warmth beneath his fingers spread through her jaw, and Sima Jing’s gaze darkened.
Just as his fingertip was about to involuntarily reach her cheek, she murmured, “Drink, Fourth Brother… don’t… be unfair…”
Still lost in the haze of their drinking game moments ago.
Sima Jing stopped his finger.
Realizing what he had nearly done, his face turned iron-gray, and he released her jaw.
Without support, Yun Ran’s head lolled again, softly resting on his knee.
Sima Jing: “……”
Forget it.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Taking a deep breath, he turned away, his gaze settling on the colorful light filtering through the carriage curtain, trying to calm his racing heart.
Yet, unconsciously, images of her at the Yun Family’s banquet flickered in his mind.
At home, when quarrelling with her family, her eyes were so lively and bright.
Unlike yesterday in the palace, where she picked her words cautiously even when passing dishes, acting timid and careful.
This marriage was truly an unexpected disaster for her and her entire family.
After a long moment, he looked again.
Yun Ran had already fallen asleep, her fair cheeks tinged with red, serene and peaceful.
His eyes darkened, voice low and filled with cold dew.
“You have feelings in your heart,”
Though unintentional, it was because of him those feelings arose.
The carriage was silent.
Only Yun Ran’s gentle, even breathing accompanied the soft rumble of the wheels.
***
Last night, a sudden gust of wind blew.
So early this morning, the palace maids of Shoukang Palace lit high-quality silver charcoal in the gilded bronze brazier, warming the West Warm Pavilion until it was cozy.
Empress Dowager Zhao reclined on the soft couch lined with purple sable fur, fingers rubbing a string of prayer beads as she listened to Chief Eunuch Zhang Dehai reporting the details of yesterday’s homecoming visit.
“…His Highness accompanied the Princess Consort back to the Marquis’s Mansion yesterday from the hour of the snake until the hour of the monkey.”
“The Princess Consort was probably drunk from the wine. When she got off the carriage, His Highness personally carried her into the courtyard.”
Zhang Dehai lowered his eyelids, voice hushed, “However, His Highness did not stay overnight and returned directly to Deep Willow Hall.”
The prayer beads stopped between her fingers.
The phoenix hairpin in her temple, made of red gold and set with pearls, swayed slightly.
“Oh? He carried her himself?”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly, her tone lingering, “Yet he did not stay?”
Zhang Dehai bowed deeper, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“That is not proper.”
Empress Dowager Zhao’s fingers lightly tapped the armrest, then stopped abruptly.
“Zhang Dehai, you may leave now.”
Zhang Dehai’s eyes darted briefly before replying, “Yes.”
After the eunuch left, Empress Dowager Zhao sipped from the teacup beside her and slowly spoke to Langui Mama standing nearby:
“The night before, he didn’t stay; last night again he did not stay. I went through so much trouble to marry him off, and now, is the bride just decoration in his mansion?”
“Langui, tell me, what on earth is he thinking?”
She slammed the tea cup heavily onto the table.
“That young lady was surely urged to drink a lot by her family yesterday. She was so drunk she passed out. Yet he carried her, only to back out at the last moment. What is the meaning of this?”
Langui Mama, dressed in deep cyan armor, bowed and comforted her:
“His Highness is naturally reserved, and the Princess Consort is a newlywed, understandably shy. Since he broke precedent to carry her yesterday, it shows he does care to some extent.”
“What use is caring?”
Empress Dowager Zhao said, “This marriage was rushed. If he doesn’t seize the moment and keeps living separately, when will I ever have grandchildren?”
“Or could it be… he really has some hidden illness?”
Frowning, Empress Dowager Zhao recalled six years ago, when the envoy first brought Sima Jing back from the Rongdi tribes—
He was tall but terribly thin. Even though the envoy fed and cared for him well during the months-long journey to Chang’an, they still couldn’t fatten him.
He was skeletal, gaunt beyond belief.
He was stubborn, refusing to let anyone touch him all along the way, even when fixing his hair and beard.
The envoys tried to persuade him, but he would just slip away like a snake, scaring everyone into silence.
When he appeared in front of her with a tangled, filthy appearance, tall and thin, she thought he was a beggar, nothing like the fair, delicate, almost ethereal boy she remembered.
He stood rigid at the palace steps, looking up at Emperor Wenxuan’s throne with a sharp gaze.
Even from a distance, his eyes were piercing, as if harboring a dark and chilling secret.
Like a wolf.
The thought crossed her mind then—a wild, untamable lone wolf that could tear its enemies apart.
How could she be his enemy?
She was his mother.
She had longed for him, worried for him.
So she staggered forward and, with tears, grasped his hand.
“My son, I am your Empress Dowager.”
But he silently broke free.
In his struggle, she saw the scars on his wrist.
Stunned, she frantically pulled up his sleeve, revealing more dense scars—whip marks, burns, cuts, burns again…
New wounds layered over old.
She wanted to see more but was shoved away.
He stepped back several paces, then coldly looked at her with jet-black eyes.
He hated her.
She knew—he truly hated her.
Later, she sent the imperial physicians to examine him and learned his body was covered with scars.
The imperial physician’s report: “His chest, back, and legs are almost all injured; no piece of flesh remains intact.”
The envoy who fetched him sobbed as he recounted: “When we found His Highness, his neck and limbs were shackled, the Rongdi only fed him one meal a day, forbidding him from leaving the Snake Cave.”
The boy was skeletal, like a walking corpse.
For years in that pitch-black Snake Cave, surrounded by snakes.
The envoy secretly mentioned that the reason he was thrown into the snake den was because the Rongdi Right General had a penchant for young boys, and when Sima Jing was only nine, he was already strikingly handsome, resembling a girl.
The Right General took a fancy to him, but that night, the boy gouged out one eye and bit off one ear, foiling his intentions.
The Rongdi Khan, mindful of his status and utility, spared his life but had to placate the Right General, so he was thrown into the Snake Cave—
“Let the gods decide his fate.”
No one knew how the nine-year-old boy survived surrounded by hundreds of snakes.
Yet miraculously, he did.
And stayed in the Snake Cave.
Rumors began to spread among the Rongdi clans that the hostage from Jin was dead.
What survived was no human, but a snake spirit.
Though he gradually grew handsome, the Rongdi nobles, male and female alike, who once coveted him, were all scared off by the snakes guarding him fiercely.
Empress Dowager Zhao pitied her son’s suffering.
So for years she had tried to compensate by granting him the honor of a first-rank prince, a magnificent and spacious manor, abundant fiefs, endless wealth, and a gentle, virtuous bride from a prestigious family.
Yet he remained distant and resistant.
Now, having finally married a delicate and beloved wife, and seeing how he accompanied her to the Marquis’s Mansion yesterday, it showed he wasn’t rejecting this Yun Family daughter—
He even willingly stepped foot into a noble’s residence, something he hadn’t done in six years since returning from the Rongdi.
Even when his own mother summoned him to the palace, she had to repeatedly plead.
“Langui, you must watch over them for me.”
From the incense burner by the steps, blue smoke curled upward, shrouding Empress Dowager Zhao’s elegant face in a faint melancholy.
“No matter the reason, we must find the symptoms first to treat the illness correctly.”
“This time, stay longer there, observe their interactions carefully. A-Jing was born under your watch and you’ve watched him grow to five years old…”
“Sigh, I really owe him so much. If I weren’t the Empress Dowager, too busy to attend personally, I’d guard his mansion myself, just being the lady of the house…”
Langui Mama’s eyes flickered, hastily saying, “Your Majesty, please don’t say that.”
Empress Dowager Zhao pulled a wry smile, tinged with helplessness.
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