Chapter 83: Spicy Pot (IX)
Xiao Zhao Ye still maintained his graceful and noble demeanor. The snow-white mourning robes accentuated the natural sorrow and weariness on his softly contoured face.
Leng Yue thought this man might have been born with a natural affinity for mourning attire—no other clothing suited him as well as these funeral garments.
Leng Yue could restrain herself from punching him out of respect for the mourning robes, but the faint yet heart-wrenching moans still echoed in her ears. She truly couldn’t bring herself to bow, so she pretended she had never seen this face before and said indifferently, "I’m here on official business. I’ve been standing outside for half an hour. May I go in now?"
Xiao Zhao Ye was taken aback, but Uncle Qi suddenly realized, "You’re the one who came earlier… the one General Leng arranged, right?"
"Yes," Leng Yue tugged at her wide sleeves. "General Leng tripled my pay and had me dress like this to accompany Fourth Young Master Jing for the night."
Seeing Xiao Zhao Ye looking as if he’d seen a ghost, Uncle Qi hurriedly explained, "Your Highness, this isn’t Leng Yue… This is someone General Leng Yan from the Crown Prince Manor found. She already came by earlier and succeeded."
The word "succeeded" was like a small stone tossed into a pond, creating faint ripples across Xiao Zhao Ye’s smooth brow.
Noticing Xiao Zhao Ye’s frown, Uncle Qi immediately understood and said, "Your Highness, rest assured. I know Leng Yue’s temperament well. She’s impulsive and impatient, never one to wait quietly. If she could climb a wall, she’d never use the door. She wouldn’t stand outside silently for half an hour like this young lady… Besides, if she were really Leng Yue, hearing the commotion inside earlier, even if she didn’t rush in to rescue anyone, she’d have been crying her eyes out. Look at this girl—does she seem like she’s about to shed tears?"
Uncle Qi went on to point out subtle differences in this "Leng Yue’s" eyes, nose, mouth, head, arms, and legs compared to the Leng Yue he had observed since childhood. He spoke so convincingly that Leng Yue almost started to believe she wasn’t herself. Only then did Xiao Zhao Ye softly hum in acknowledgment, smoothing the wrinkles on his brow. While carefully examining Leng Yue, he murmured to himself, "The Crown Prince is sacrificing the child to catch the wolf…"
Leng Yue laughed inwardly at him.
Pregnancy inevitably brought subtle changes to a woman’s appearance. Coupled with her recent journey through wind and snow from Suzhou, her face naturally showed traces of travel weariness. Under Uncle Qi’s meticulous scrutiny, she was bound to appear different from before.
It seemed this ill-timed child might actually be heaven’s subtle way of watching over her and Jing Yi.
As if hearing her silent laughter, Xiao Zhao Ye suddenly returned his gaze to Leng Yue’s nearly expressionless face. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he asked gently, "What is your profession?"
Leng Yue raised an eyebrow flirtatiously and swayed her sleeves. "I’m an opera singer."
Hiring an opera singer to play a role couldn’t be more fitting.
Xiao Zhao Ye nodded gently and asked softly, "You said you’re here to accompany Fourth Young Master Jing for the night?"
"Yes," Leng Yue met his gaze directly and replied candidly, "Nine hundred taels for one night is enough to feed me until spring."
Nine hundred taels until spring…Xiao Zhaoye gave a somewhat stiff smile. "You have quite the appetite, miss..."
"Can't help it. This kind of heavy labor requires a full stomach."
The corner of Xiao Zhaoye's mouth visibly twitched, nearly erasing the carefully maintained gentle curve.
Leng Yue inwardly scoffed at him again, her face still wearing that detached expression of neither joy nor sorrow. "May I begin my work now? If I delay any longer, dawn will break."
"Go ahead..." Xiao Zhaoye pulled the gentle curve back to his lips with a sincere smile. "Do your best. I'll stay here to observe how the Crown Prince's nine hundred taels are being spent."
This time it was Leng Yue's turn to freeze.
Observe...
He wanted to watch her spend the night with Jing Yi?
Though Xiao Zhaoye still wore that warm and amiable expression, Leng Yue distinctly sensed a chilling, sinister aura beneath his serene facade.
He still had his suspicions. Under normal circumstances, to dispel his doubts, letting him watch wouldn't be a life-threatening matter. But now, three months pregnant, this was precisely when she couldn't afford any recklessness. What he wanted to witness could truly become a matter of life and death.
Leng Yue exaggeratedly furrowed her brows and turned to Uncle Qi. "Steward, as you heard earlier, I've already told Fourth Young Master Jing that I'm carrying his child. Tonight will simply be sleeping—what's worth watching about that?"
Just as Uncle Qi showed a hint of hesitation, Xiao Zhaoye interjected, "Are you truly with child?"
Leng Yue paused slightly, pursed her lips and shook her head.
She couldn't tell Xiao Zhaoye the truth about this matter, otherwise who knows what deadly schemes this man might concoct.
Seeing Leng Yue shake her head, Xiao Zhaoye smiled gently. "Then there certainly will be something worth watching."
Xiao Zhaoye's words sounded like comfort, like encouragement, but Leng Yue understood clearly—this was unmistakably a command, one that might cost lives if not obeyed.
While Leng Yue hesitated, Uncle Qi urged, "The wine's effect and medicine potency are at their peak inside. Please hurry, miss. Once he sobers up, your task will become difficult..."
The thought of the Jing family's well-fed watchdog obeying an outsider's command to viciously turn against his own master made Leng Yue glare fiercely at Uncle Qi.
Trained in martial arts—and not merely the flowery techniques for fitness—Leng Yue's fierce gaze lacked the anger mixed with resentment and coquettishness typical of ordinary women. Instead, it resembled a wild wolf locking onto its prey, ready to strike.
This genuinely intense stare made Uncle Qi tremble. Before he could finish trembling, Leng Yue snapped irritably, "What's the rush? If you're in such a hurry, you do it! The nine hundred taels are yours!"
"..."
Uncle Qi turned green with speechless fury, but Xiao Zhaoye revealed a genuinely amused smile and said gently, "Don't be angry, miss. Just proceed as you please. What matters is completing the task—no need to rush."
Seeing Xiao Zhaoye's exceedingly patient demeanor, Leng Yue knew this hurdle wouldn't be easily overcome with mere pretense.
She had never imagined that someday, as a woman, she would face the dilemma of choosing between protecting her child or protecting her husband.
Fortunately, for her, this question wasn't difficult to answer.When Leng Yue entered the room, Jing Yi remained as before—hands bound behind his back, curled into a ball on the floor. This time, however, he lay coiled in a pool of spilled liquor and the filth of drunken vomit. His thin white inner robe was soaked through with the splashed wine, clinging to his smooth skin like translucent cicada wings, revealing the sickly flush spreading across his flesh from the drug's effects.
Several empty wine jars yet to be cleared lay scattered around Jing Yi. Leng Yue roughly estimated their combined volume to be nearly half a water vat's worth. Even without the added drug, this amount alone could inflict serious harm on anyone.
No wonder Jing Yi appeared as if he hadn't slept for ages. Being force-fed such quantities of drugged liquor every midnight, his stomach could practically breed fish, all while enduring the dual torment of intoxication and drug effects. The agony would persist until the same hour the next day, barely subsiding before a new round began. Even frontier generals who daily danced with death on blade edges might struggle to sleep under such torture, let alone Jing Yi with his delicately nurtured scholar's constitution.
Hearing someone approach, the curled figure instinctively tightened his posture, his back facing the door immediately trembling like a sifting sieve. Faint, threadlike moans escaped his lips—barely audible yet saturated with suffering, as if emerging from hell's depths, chilling the listener's very organs.
Leng Yue moved quietly to crouch behind Jing Yi, reaching to untie the ropes binding his wrists. The moment her fingers touched his scorching skin, the tormented body shuddered violently.
"I..." Leng Yue leaned close to whisper in his ear, "I've returned. Don't be afraid."
Through the living hell of torment, a voice gentle as dreams vaguely reached him. Jing Yi's trembling form stiffened abruptly, his head twisting eagerly to verify reality versus delusion. But Leng Yue pressed his shoulder, speaking with calm assurance, "Don't move. The ropes need untying. Your hands will be damaged if bound too long."
"Xiao Yue..."
"Yes, it's me. Xiao Yue."
As if summoned back to some semblance of awareness by this long-yearned-for voice, Jing Yi strained violently, wrenching his bound hands from Leng Yue's grasp. Between ragged, frantic breaths, he forced out a barely recognizable word:
"Dirty..."
As he spoke, he curled tighter, forehead nearly buried between his knees. His normally upright spine arched deeply, trembling as if the slender frame might snap in two with the slightest additional pressure.
Jing Yi's vision and consciousness had blurred into chaos. His entire body burned with numb fever, ears ringing incessantly. In this state, his naturally acute sense of smell grew unbearably sharp—allowing him to clearly detect the pungent liquor, medicinal odor, and nauseating sour stench clinging to his own body.
For so many years, he had maintained his pleasing appearance with the meticulous care of a bride-to-be. Though Leng Yue never explicitly stated what she liked about him, he knew from her occasional stolen, dazed glances that at the very least, she appreciated this very skin and bones.He was genuinely surprised when he saw her earlier that night—so surprised that he hadn’t even had time to think about these things, let alone expect her to return after leaving, especially at the moment when he was at his most unsightly state of the day...
Jing Yi had gritted his teeth and endured nearly half a month of unbearable torment, yet at this moment, he suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to die.
“You’re not dirty.” After whispering her response, Leng Yue knelt down and embraced Jing Yi’s stiffly arched back with her whole body. Leaning close to his ear as if to kiss his earlobe, she murmured in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible, “Be good, someone’s watching.”
Leng Yue placed several soothing kisses on his earlobe and repeated the whispered words multiple times until the person in her arms seemed to understand her meaning. Like a pill bug slowly unfurling after relaxing, he gradually loosened his tightly curled body. Only then did Leng Yue silently let out a sigh of relief. She untied the hemp rope and carefully helped him turn over.
The moment Jing Yi’s dazed, unfocused gaze fell on Leng Yue’s face, it brightened briefly, but then, as if recalling something, it dimmed abruptly. With great effort, he turned his head away.
He really shouldn’t harbor any more foolish hopes...
“Jing Yi...”
Leng Yue called his name softly, reaching out to cradle his gaunt, angular face. Gently, she turned his head back toward her, as if completely oblivious to the filth on his face and the pungent odor clinging to him. She pressed a deep, tender, and lingering kiss to his feverish lips.
The moment her lips touched his, Jing Yi reacted with despair and unease, as if he were forcibly defiling something sacred, desperately trying to evade her. Yet, in the end, he couldn’t resist the long-lost warmth that accompanied that familiar touch—from passively accepting it to greedily, shamelessly seeking more...
When Leng Yue ended the kiss while gently stroking his disheveled hair, she noticed fresh, scalding tear stains around Jing Yi’s eyes.
Leng Yue froze for a moment. She couldn’t remember how many years it had been since she last saw Jing Yi cry like this, and for a moment, she couldn’t comprehend why he was weeping.
As Leng Yue remained stunned, Jing Yi gazed at her with the helpless, panicked look of a child who had committed an unforgivable mistake. His slightly parted lips trembled for a long while before Leng Yue could make out that he was repeatedly apologizing to her, saying, “I’m sorry.”
Suddenly understanding, Leng Yue felt a sharp pang in her heart, so painful that her eyes reddened. She bent her head and gently kissed away those bitter, salty tears, asking softly, “Did you miss me?”
Jing Yi seemed not to hear her words, his eyes fixed intently on her as he repeated “I’m sorry” with increasing despair. It was only when Leng Yue silenced him with another kiss that he finally stopped.
Tears welling in her eyes, Leng Yue ruffled his hair and smiled, radiant as peach blossoms. “You bastard, if you didn’t miss me, I missed you to death…”
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