Chаpter 159: То Dеvоur Неr Alive, Вones, Blood, and Аll...
Unlikе the рreviоus аngrу kiss, this оne wаs сlеаrlу tinged with а bit of hysteriа.
Нe wаs like a lost, сornerеd beast—fiеrсе аnd rесklеss, yet ultimаtеly finding nо wау out.
With thе veil nо lоnger in the wау, and thе person bеneath him not struggling аs shе hаd befоre, his invasion wаs соmplеtе. Не wаs just shоrt of dеvоuring her рieсe by рieсе, stаrting from hеr liрs аnd tеeth.
Xiaо Li’s breathing was deeр and heavу. In that fleеting momеnt оf greеdy taking, it was as if a tsunami had erupted within him, finally churning up the black waters that feigned tranquility to reveal the desire of an endless glacier connected to the iceberg's base.
But as his large palm slid down Wen Yu’s spine, he stopped abruptly, as if waking from a dream.
He then pulled away from Wen Yu.
He was panting, his eyes bloodshot, yet his expression was as cold as ever. He raised a finger to wipe the wetness from Wen Yu’s face, his lips tightening as he said, “Don’t provoke me again,” before getting up and storming out the door.
Wen Yu watched his retreating back, refusing to let another trace of vulnerability show on her face. Only when her long lashes swept down did they become damp.
She had done her best.
If he was still unwilling to reconcile with her, there was nothing more she could do.
Xiao Li strode out of the room with his head down, then hurried out of the courtyard. As he passed through a narrow alley lined with several large water vats, he braced his hands on the rim of one and plunged his entire head into the cold water.
A light snow was still drifting from the sky. In the dead of winter, the water in the vat was bone-chillingly icy.
But after a thorough soaking, Xiao Li finally felt the heat surging through his body recede.
Beneath a thin layer of skin, the blood that had been roiling like lava in his veins slowly calmed.
He kept his head submerged for more than ten breaths before pushing himself up, bracing his hands on the rim. As cold water streamed down from his soaked bangs and jaw, he gasped for air, his eyes still fierce.
She shouldn't have tempted him like that.
He just wanted to crush her, to tear her to shreds, to devour her alive—bones, blood, and all, leaving not a single bite behind.
Wen Yu did not see Xiao Li for the rest of the night. Only the unusually tall woman came to bring her a bowl of congee. When she returned to clear the bowl and chopsticks after Wen Yu had finished, she also rubbed medicine on the severe bruises on her back.
Wen Yu knew little about the woman, only discerning from her attire and mannerisms that she was likely from the jianghu. The woman told her to call her Sanniang, and her personality was very uninhibited.
When the room fell silent again, Wen Yu, her mind heavy with worries, finally drifted into a fitful sleep, listening to the sound of the wind and snow raging outside.
She awoke the next morning to find that the woman called Sanniang had found a slovenly old man to check her pulse.
One of the man’s eyes seemed to have a cataract, giving it an unnatural grayish-blue color, and the hand holding his cane trembled ceaselessly. But when his three fingers settled on Wen Yu’s wrist, they became surprisingly steady.
After a moment of careful discernment, he stated with certainty, “This is not a pregnancy pulse. It should be a chaotic pulse caused by a drug.”
With that, he looked at Wen Yu with his one good eye. “The person who concocted this drug is quite skilled. If its effects hadn't already begun to fade, this old man might not have been able to diagnose it.”
Gongsun Sanniang was very curious. “Such a drug actually exists in this world?”
The old man snorted. “They can even make drugs that induce suspended animation and stop the pulse. What’s so difficult about creating a chaotic pulse that mimics pregnancy?”
Song Qin made a gesture of invitation toward the door. “I’ll trouble you, old sir, to prescribe this young lady some medicine to recuperate her body.”
The old man stood up with his cane, his hands beginning to tremble again, but his expression was quite smug as he said, “Of course.”
Once everyone had left the room, Wen Yu stared silently at the canopy of the bed.
She had not seen Xiao Li today, but since a physician had now diagnosed her pregnancy pulse as fake, he would surely find out.
With this ironclad proof, the excuse he had used to keep her would no longer hold.
However, Wen Yu did not ask to see Xiao Li.
If he still refused to let her go, then seeing him would only lead to another verbal dispute between them.
Wen Yu understood that what she needed to do now was to first recover from her injuries.
Now that she was no longer in the Military Camp, as soon as Zhao Bai and Tong Que found the place where she was being held, they would have a way to get her out.
What truly required her to conserve her strength and plan meticulously was how to appease Southern Chen afterward and then ferret out the hidden traitor stirring up trouble from behind the scenes.
Perhaps due to some calming ingredients in the medicinal soup she had drunk that morning, Wen Yu soon felt drowsy again.
In the front courtyard of the nunnery, Xiao Li was silent for a long time after hearing Song Qin’s report before finally asking, “She’s really not pregnant?”
Song Qin said, “Old Madman’s medical skills are quite famous in the criminal underworld. It’s said his ancestors included an imperial physician, and he has cured many difficult and complicated illnesses for high-ranking officials and nobles. His pulse diagnosis is reliable.”
Upon hearing this, Xiao Li fell silent again. After a long while, he said, “Let her recuperate here for now.”
Song Qin nodded, but glanced at Xiao Li and said, “Your Lordship cannot be away from the camp for too long. You should return today.”
Xiao Li seemed lost in thought, his brow slightly furrowed. His silhouette, cast upon the lake beside the rockery, also appeared desolate. He only said, “Mm, let’s go back.”
Song Qin looked at him, speechless for two breaths, his gaze sweeping toward the old temple behind him where Wen Yu was being held.
Pei Song tenderly used a handkerchief to wipe away the medicinal liquid spilling from the corner of Jiang Yichu’s mouth, his expression gentle. “Ah-Jie was naughty again today. If you don’t take your medicine properly, how can you get better quickly?”
On the bed, Jiang Yichu turned her head to the side, ignoring him completely.
She was even thinner than before, her face pale and her black hair unbound. Her eyes were fixed on a single spot, as if she were so immersed in her own world that she could no longer hear any other sounds from her surroundings.
Pei Song’s expression remained gentle, but he clamped a hand on Jiang Yichu’s jaw, forcing her to turn toward him.
He scooped up another spoonful of medicine and brought it to her lips. A gentle smile touched his own as if he were treating an intimate lover. “Be good. Don’t throw a tantrum.”
But Jiang Yichu turned her head away again, and with a sharp sweep of her hand, knocked over the medicine bowl held by a nearby maid.
The spoon in Pei Song’s hand scraped past her cheek, leaving another wet trail of medicine on her face. The rest of the liquid splashed onto the brocade quilt, leaving behind mottled yellow stains.
“Your Excellency, spare my life! This servant didn’t mean to!” The maid holding the bowl was so frightened she fell to her knees in a panic. In her haste, she tried to pick up the broken porcelain on the floor, not even noticing when it cut her hand, and only begged for mercy.
Pei Song, still patient, wiped the medicine from Jiang Yichu’s chin with the handkerchief before asking the maid lightly, “Do you want to live?”
The maid trembled like a leaf in the wind, tears welling in her eyes as she nodded wretchedly.
Pei Song took a second bowl of medicine that had been prepared earlier and handed it to her. His tone was still gentle, like some refined gentleman. “You know that I never keep useless people around. Make Beauty Jiang drink the medicine, and I will spare your life, considering you still have some use.”
The maid took the bowl, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Ignoring the spilled medicine on the floor, she shuffled on her knees to Jiang Yichu’s side, her tears flowing as she pleaded, “Beauty Jiang, please take the medicine.”
Jiang Yichu remained facing the inside of the bed, silent and emotionless, like a string puppet.
Seeing her like this, a hint of hatred flashed in Pei Song’s eyes, but he still smiled at the maid. “It seems Beauty Jiang has no intention of letting you live.”
The maid’s face turned deathly pale with fright, her hands shaking so much she could barely hold the bowl. She lowered her head and sobbed, “I beg Beauty Jiang to save this servant. This servant still has elderly parents and a younger brother and sister at home…”
Jiang Yichu finally turned her head, but her eyes were lifeless and full of numbness. She asked, as if exhausted or perhaps mocking, “Aren’t you tired of this game yet, Pei Song?”
Pei Song planted a playful kiss on her temple, his smile light and warm. “As long as it makes Ah-Jie obediently take her medicine, any old trick will do, won’t it?”
He glanced at the maid. Heedless of whether she would be cut by the shattered bowl, the maid quickly shuffled closer on her knees, holding the bowl of dark brown liquid up to Jiang Yichu.
Jiang Yichu finally took the bowl and tilted her head back to down it. But whether the medicine was too bitter or her body was too weak, she began to retch uncontrollably after drinking it. In the end, she not only vomited up the entire bowl of medicine but nearly brought up her bile as well.
Pei Song was enraged. He shouted for someone to fetch a doctor, and completely ignoring the filth, he half-supported her through the quilt, helping her lean against him to continue vomiting into the spittoon.
He wiped the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief, murmuring reassurances. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have forced Ah-Jie to drink the medicine…”
The maids quickly changed the bedding and wiped the floor clean.
Jiang Yichu’s stomach spasmed until she could vomit no more. As if all her strength had been drained, she lay in Pei Song’s arms and gave a faint smile. “If I die, you’ll lose one of your favorite pastimes of putting on a show for others, won’t you?”
A vein bulged on Pei Song’s temple, a precursor to his rage.
But Jiang Yichu was already too weak to withstand any of his anger.
In the end, he only caressed her cheek affectionately and said softly, “Ah-Jie, why must you always try every means to provoke me? You know I can’t bear to hurt you, so I can only take my anger out on Wen Heng’s daughter.”
Just as anger flared on Jiang Yichu’s face, someone from outside announced urgently, “Master, someone from Beauty Zheng’s courtyard has come to say she has a stomachache. Beauty Zheng is afraid something might happen to the child and is crying terribly…”
Pei Song’s expression turned cold in an instant. “If she has a stomachache, then call a doctor,” he said, utterly unconcerned.
Hearing Pei Song’s anger, the messenger’s voice lost its confidence. “Beauty Zheng is making a scene and insists on seeing you…”
Pei Song’s expression grew extremely impatient. Only when he looked back at Jiang Yichu did his calm demeanor return. He seemed to want to steal another kiss from her cheek, but she dodged him.
This act of rejection, however, seemed to improve Pei Song’s mood. He held her jaw firmly and murmured, “Is Ah-Jie jealous?”
Jiang Yichu said nothing, only returning his question with a cold sneer.
This was a true humiliation that needed no words.
Pei Song tightened his grip on her chin, rendering her unable to move. He forced a kiss on her cheek before letting her go.
“Ah-Jie, you know that there is nothing I want that I cannot obtain. Why must you insist on making things difficult for yourself and opposing me?”
Jiang Yichu sat slumped on the edge of the bed, her disheveled hair falling to hide her expression.
Pei Song stood up and walked out. In the end, he pitied her for her poor health since the arrow wound, and the fact that she was still pregnant. He paused just before leaving the outer room and said, “If Ah-Jie eats well and takes her medicine today, you may see that remnant of Great Liang for an hour tomorrow.”
After leaving Jiang Yichu’s courtyard, Pei Song was about to head to Lady Zheng’s when a Hawk Hound rushed over to report, “Master! Sir Gongsun has returned. He is in the front hall and wishes to see you.”
Pei Song frowned. “Isn’t Sir managing the war on the Southern Border? Why has he come to Fengyang at this time?”
The Hawk Hound chose his words carefully. “Perhaps it is because of Beauty Jiang using herself as bait to help Grand Tutor Yu and the other old officials of Great Liang escape Fengyang.”
Pei Song understood. He said to the servant from Lady Zheng’s courtyard who was leading the way, “I am busy with official matters. I will go see your mistress later.”
The servant naturally did not dare to say more and retreated with a bow.
Pei Song changed his course and went to the front hall. As soon as he entered, he saw Gongsun Chou standing with his hands behind his back, facing away from the window, his figure slightly stooped.
He said, “Sir, why didn’t you send someone to inform me in advance of your return to Fengyang? I could have arranged for people to receive you.”
Gongsun Chou turned around and struck his cane heavily on the floor. “This old subject has abandoned the Southern Border war and the younger generation like Yu Wenjing and Han Qi to return and handle a family matter for you, my lord.”
He said, grief-stricken, “That Enchantress has ruined my lord’s grand enterprise time and time again. Today, even if I must die here remonstrating, I will have my lord execute that Enchantress!”
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