Chapter 27

The ministers presented their memorials, which Eunuch Xue delivered to the desk. Helan Ji opened one and pointed to the contents. “Yuan Yuan, you pick. Tell me which title suits your fancy the most.”

His tone toward Qixue was always much gentler. Even in his normal voice, it was easy to hear the favoritism he showed him.

Not to mention that he had Qixue sitting on his lap, discussing state affairs with the ministers while holding him like this…

The older ministers were already starting to feel dizzy and see stars. They had always both feared and respected Helan Ji. Though His Majesty was tyrannical, he was still a rare enlightened ruler when it came to governance. But today, they actually saw shades of a lecherous, befuddled monarch in him.

Just who was this Noble Consort that he doted on so excessively, enough to make the cold and aloof emperor act this way?

When they had paid their respects earlier, the ministers hadn’t dared to look up directly at the imperial countenance, so they hadn’t seen Qixue’s face. Now that they were seated, while Helan Ji and Qixue looked over the titles together, they all stealthily lifted their eyelids for a glance.

One look, and they were struck dumb by Qixue’s stunning beauty.

The beauty had skin like ice and jade, fragrant and tender as fine jade, leaning bonelessly into His Majesty’s embrace. His eyes flowed with seductive charm, like a bright moon fallen into the mortal world, stained with the passions and desires of the dusty realm.

The ministers didn’t dare look more and buried their heads deeply. Suddenly, they understood Helan Ji.

His Majesty had only just tasted the pleasures of the flesh, and with an object as breathtakingly gorgeous as this, it was no wonder he indulged for a time. If it had been them, they probably would have lost all composure even more than he had.

But as the saying went, a beauty could bring disaster. Was it really safe to keep such a person in the depths of the palace without stirring up trouble?

Qixue’s looks were too beautiful—beautiful enough to make the ministers’ hearts race with alarm. Yet they didn’t dare advise Helan Ji against it. After all, His Majesty had only missed the morning court today; it wasn’t a big deal. Better not to anger him. They would observe for a while longer.

Each minister kept their eyes on their nose and their nose to their heart. The study fell utterly silent, save for Helan Ji’s low voice. “Yuan Yuan still hasn’t chosen. Is there no title here that you like?”

“…”

Qixue bit his lower lip, his face flushed crimson. Under the desk, his legs trembled like a newborn fawn’s.

The tendrils wreaked havoc: some tugged at the ruby, others snaked below his waist and gave a few light smacks, leaving faint red marks on the plump, snowy flesh.

He suffered in silence but, mindful of Helan Ji’s dignity, didn’t dare cry out. He had only been thinking of His Majesty—why couldn’t His Majesty understand his good intentions? Why tease him like this in front of so many people?

Helan Ji leaned in from behind, his breath spraying Qixue’s ear—just as Qixue had done to him in the jade chariot. “Why isn’t my beloved consort speaking? Are you sulking with me?”

Ah…

Qixue’s eyes misted with moisture, his body going soft and limp like spring mud, sour and tingling all over. He forced out a few words, his voice so small only Helan Ji could hear. “No… I’m still choosing, still looking…”

“No need to rush, beloved consort. I’ll look with you.”

Helan Ji grasped Qixue’s hand and guided it over the memorial. Qixue’s gaze was hazy; he couldn’t focus at all. Everything blurred before him, his mind a mushy pulp, utterly defeated by the pleasure.

With a “plop,” a teardrop fell onto the memorial, smudging the ink.

Helan Ji looked at the dampened character. “‘Ning.’ Does my beloved consort want ‘Ning’ in the title?”

Qixue’s fingers clenched tight, his elegant fingertips whitening with the pressure, nails digging into flesh and scratching Helan Ji’s hand red. He couldn’t hold back his voice. “No…”

That sound was so seductive it softened the bones. The ministers, unaware of the scene under the desk, assumed the Noble Consort naturally had such a voice. Their hearts churned in turmoil; they had to silently recite sutras to calm their restless agitation.

“It seems my beloved consort can’t decide right now.”

Helan Ji set the matter of the title aside for the moment. “Bring me the memorial for the enfeoffment ceremony.”

Eunuch Xue handed it over. The memorial outlined the protocols for the Noble Consort’s enfeoffment ceremony. Helan Ji glanced at it and said, “Follow the regulations for an empress.”

The ministers, midway through their sutras, paused in a daze before reacting. “Your Majesty, that might not conform to precedent…”

“Do as I say.” Helan Ji replied.

The ministers immediately fell silent. “We obey the decree.”

Helan Ji said, “You may all withdraw. Later, I’ll send the Noble Consort’s title to the Hanlin Academy.”

Relieved of their sutra-reciting ordeal, the ministers withdrew as if granted a great pardon. Eunuch Xue tactfully left the study too, closing the door behind him.

Qixue was lifted onto the desk. Helan Ji steadied his legs, only to find his fingertips slick and wet—not from the tendrils. “So eager?”

“…” Qixue’s face burned red as he softly complained, “Your Majesty only knows how to bully people…”

But Helan Ji showed no remorse; he even licked his fingertips clean. Qixue was so mortified he felt like he might evaporate. In that moment, he truly wanted to turn back into a rabbit, burrow into a hole, and escape the study.

Helan Ji leaned down to kiss his eyelids. “I won’t bully Yuan Yuan.”

They went at it for a while before Helan Ji stopped. He changed Qixue’s clothes for him, dressing him carefully from head to toe.

Qixue’s waist and legs already ached; now he was utterly spent and too lazy to look at titles anymore. He curled into Helan Ji’s arms. “Brother, read them to me…”

“Alright.”

Helan Ji read the titles one by one. When he reached a certain character, Qixue stopped him. “I want this one.”

“‘Qi.'” Helan Ji said. “You plan to use ‘Qi’?”

“That’s right.” Qixue nodded. Though he was used to “Sang Xue” and “Young Master Sang,” the thought of sharing Sang Chi’s surname still irked him. With “Qi,” everyone would call him “Qi Noble Consort” from now on—it sounded much better.

He told Helan Ji, “‘Qi’ means lovely and beautiful. It’s a good omen. I like it.”

Helan Ji gazed at him. “Yuan Yuan radiates light, your beauty is exquisite and gorgeous. ‘Qi’ suits you perfectly.”

…

Once the title was settled, the decree enfeoffing the Noble Consort was soon proclaimed throughout the land.

In just a few short days, news of the emperor taking a consort spread across the entire Great Yong—even reaching Ji Yuheng in distant Nanping County.

Upon hearing it, Ji Yuheng felt nothing special. If anything, he was simply happy for the emperor’s marriage. That was all.

As for rumors of how devastatingly beautiful the Noble Consort was or how dotingly the emperor favored him, Ji Yuheng had no interest. He just smiled faintly and continued burying himself in his official duties and documents.

After another day of hard work that stretched into the night, Ji Yuheng finally returned to the County Princess Mansion.

Exhausted as he was, he still gently tended to the injured small animals, bandaging their wounds and feeding them.

Suddenly, a tabby cat leaped through the window into the bedroom. Seeing it, Ji Yuheng stood at once, fetched some dried fish, and fed it while asking, “How did it go? Did you find any news on the little rabbit?”

“Still nothing.”

The tabby cat felt too embarrassed to eat Ji Yuheng’s dried fish. It had failed its task yet accepted so many favors from him. It knew shame.

It told Ji Yuheng, “I think he’s really not in Nanping County anymore. Otherwise, after all this time, with me asking every rabbit demon family in the county, how could I not hear anything? He’s definitely not a little rabbit from Nanping County.”

Not a little rabbit from Nanping County…

Ji Yuheng paused, a faint wistfulness crossing his handsome brows and eyes.

He had long suspected the little rabbit wasn’t local. He had appeared suddenly and vanished just as abruptly—likely arriving with Great General Wei Huai’s cavalry, perhaps even the beauty so favored by the general.

Because the little rabbit’s lover was called “Seventh Brother,” and Wei Huai was the seventh in his clan, known to kin as “Seventh Brother.”

If that was the case, they probably would never meet again.

Ji Yuheng lowered his lashes and fell silent.

He knew never seeing him again was for the best.

But he couldn’t forget…

He couldn’t forget that enchanting night: the snowy arms around him, the moving moans, the rich sweet fragrance, the warm soft body…

In the midnight dreams, he fell into the same reverie again and again, until he jolted awake.

Even more unspeakable was that he… he still kept that sweat-dampened middle garment, hidden away deep because it still held the beauty’s scent.

But he never dared take it out.

If he did, the longing would only grow worse.

Yet he shouldn’t long for someone who belonged to another.

Seeing Ji Yuheng’s dejected look, the tabby cat patted him with its paw. “If we can’t find him, no big deal. Anything’s possible. Maybe you’ll see him soon.”

“I hope so.”

Ji Yuheng smiled and gently stroked the tabby cat’s head. After settling the small animals, he went to rest.

Unexpectedly, the very next day, Ji Yuheng received an imperial decree summoning imperial clansmen to the capital for selecting the heir.

The purpose was to choose the crown prince. As the grandson of the Long Princess, Ji Yuheng naturally qualified—and with his reputation for benevolence, integrity, and virtue, he was already a top contender once the list was out. Even the herald delivering the decree treated him with utmost respect, as if he had already entered the East Palace.

Ji Yuheng didn’t delay. He made preparations swiftly, bid farewell to his mother, Baohua County Princess, and set off for Shangjing.

In the carriage, Ji Yuheng held a book but wasn’t reading; his mind wandered slightly.

Truth be told, he wasn’t eager to become crown prince on this trip to the capital. He even planned to remonstrate with the emperor, begging him to rescind the order and not select from the imperial clan.

His Majesty was still young and about to enfeoff a Noble Consort—producing heirs wouldn’t be hard. There was no need to appoint a clansman. Once the princely kin entered the capital, it would surely spark unforeseen chaos and unrest.

Yet deep in his heart, Ji Yuheng harbored a secret hope.

Without the summons, he couldn’t leave his fief for the capital. But with this chance… did it mean he might see the little rabbit?

–

Outside Shangjing, at Cang Mountain’s Cloud Moon Temple.

Wei Huai, who was staying at the temple eating vegetarian meals and chanting sutras, had of course heard the news of the emperor enfeoffing a consort.

It was daytime then, and the temple buzzed with pilgrims coming to worship. In a courtyard not far from the main halls stood guest rooms, and Wei Huai occupied one.

He had come to Cloud Moon Temple to divine Qixue’s whereabouts.

After Qixue fled the wedding, Wei Huai had long since sent the Zhu Huai Guards to turn all of Shangjing upside down, but still hadn’t found him. If Qixue had left the capital, finding him bordered on impossible by human means. Thus, Wei Huai had no choice but to come here and ask State Preceptor Xie Shu to divine for him.

But Xie Shu secluded himself year-round with strict rules. Unless he emerged voluntarily, one had to stay a full month at the temple, eating only vegetarian fare and chanting scriptures daily to purge the body’s murderous aura.

Eating only vegetarian meals was worse than death for Wei Huai.

He wasn’t quite human, nor one of those grass-eating beasts. Crudely put, vegetarian food was no different from shit to him—maybe shit was even tastier; the veggies were worse.

Chanting sutras went without saying. Wei Huai’s nature was closer to demons. Though his demon power was mighty and he wouldn’t bleed from all orifices or explode like lesser demons upon hearing scriptures, prolonged exposure still made him dizzy and nauseous. Combined with the food, he vomited at least once a day—two or three times on bad days.

Wei Huai ate vegetarian and chanted daily; far from purging his murderous aura, it only grew heavier.

After half a month like this, he sat in his room contemplating whether to kill a Daoist for some meat when he overheard pilgrims outside mentioning the emperor’s impending Noble Consort enfeoffment. He paused, looking intrigued.

“His Majesty’s taking a consort? Who? Why didn’t I hear him mention it?”

Wei Huai listened closely. The pilgrims said all sorts: some said surname Sang, others Qi. Many commoners were illiterate and heard the posted decree read aloud, so word-of-mouth muddled the Noble Consort’s surname.

Just listening to them was not enough. Wei Huai had grown too bored staying in the temple, and he was interested in everything—especially since it involved his good friend taking a fancy to someone. It was all the more novel. He immediately penned a letter to Helan Ji, had the Zhu Huai Guards deliver it down the mountain to the White Tiger, and then had the White Tiger send it to the Imperial Palace. This was the fastest way.

The contents of the letter read: “An iron tree blooming—you’ve got a day of taking a wife too? Which family’s son is he? How did you two meet? Tell me about it.”

If he could, Wei Huai wanted to go down the mountain personally to ask. But if he did that, the efforts of the past half month would be wasted, and he would have to start over with another month of fasting and chanting scriptures.

If it came to that, he might as well charge straight into Xie Shu’s Dao Field, press a blade to his neck, and force him to divine Qixue’s whereabouts.

Wei Huai waited half a day but received no reply from Helan Ji. This was common—Helan Ji was swamped with state affairs and never responded to casual chit-chat letters.

But Wei Huai’s emotions had been quite unstable lately. Even if he wore a smile one moment, he might show signs of going berserk the next. Thus, he wrote a second letter.

“Please, Your Majesty, permit me to slaughter all the Taoists of Cloud Moon Temple. If not, it doesn’t matter—I’m still going to slaughter them all.”

This time, Helan Ji replied: “Your mind is unsettled; you shouldn’t linger long at Cloud Moon Temple. Return to the capital at once.”

“Return to the capital?”

Wei Huai repeated those two words, then suddenly smiled. He crumpled and tore the letter to shreds. His pupils turned into eerie green vertical slits, and his demon qi erupted violently. “A Xue isn’t in the capital—what use is going back? Will I be able to see A Xue if I go?”

He was going mad.

Not because of the fasting, nor the chanting, but because he missed A Xue so much that he was driving himself insane.

He wanted to see A Xue, to see his smile, to hold him and kiss him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear, and sleep together in each other’s arms at night.

But his A Xue was gone. He had lost him, vanished without a trace, leaving no news whatsoever. The only thing left behind was the broken golden ankle bracelet.

Wei Huai’s hands clenched tightly together. His nails turned black and sharp, piercing deep into his flesh, gouging out bloody holes that nearly pierced straight through his palms.

Outside the wing room, the disciples of Cloud Moon Temple halted in shock, stifled by the bloody, terrifying demon qi from within. The demon qi continued to surge upward, forming pitch-black clouds that blotted out the sky and lingered overhead.

In an instant, even the falling sunlight dimmed.

The pilgrims gazed up in surprise. With their mortal eyes, they couldn’t see the demon qi clouds, but they felt the light darken abruptly. Looking up, the sky was still brilliantly sunny, without a single cloud in sight.

This demon qi was too horrifying, brimming with murderous intent—it truly meant to unleash a massacre. The disciples’ faces changed, and one hurriedly called out, “Quick, quick—go fetch Eldest Senior Brother Xuan Yang!”

“Eldest Senior Brother isn’t in the temple; he’s gone down the mountain!”

Just as the disciples urgently gathered, forming a sword formation to stand guard, a silver light suddenly shot out from State Preceptor Xie Shu’s Dao Field. With a boom, it shattered the coalesced demon clouds.

Clear light spread, quelling Wei Huai’s boiling killing intent. He closed his eyes, reining in his emotions just in time and retracting his demonized form.

“Creeeak…”

The wing room’s door opened from inside. Wei Huai, propping himself up with his blood-drenched hands, smiled at the disciples. “Sorry, I startled you all, esteemed Taoists. Are you alright?”

The disciples eyed his hands warily, hesitant to speak. “We’re naturally fine, but Benefactor Wei, you…”

“Me?”

Wei Huai licked his own blood clean and grinned at them. “I’m fine too. I don’t feel like eating people anymore.”

“!” The disciples recoiled in terror.

At that moment, a paper dragon folded from a talisman flew over from Xie Shu’s Dao Field and landed before Wei Huai.

The talisman ignited, transmitting Xie Shu’s cold voice: “Wei Huai, come see me at once.”