Qixue’s face showed a look of disdain, as if he had just told a very boring joke, unaware that he had hit right on Ji Yuheng’s mind.
For Ji Yuheng, Qixue’s kiss was more than just a reward—it was a tremendous honor.
Just a few days ago in the grand hall, the image of Qixue kissing Helan Ji was still vividly imprinted in his mind. He felt envious and full of sourness, yet he didn’t dare imagine himself in Helan Ji’s place.
He knew very well that Qixue didn’t belong to him. Even thinking about it was a blasphemy against Qixue, so he couldn’t do that. Since he had already made a mistake, he shouldn’t compound it. He had to stop fantasizing about Qixue.
But tonight, Young Master Xue had brought him to the bedchamber and even let him…
Ji Yuheng couldn’t speak; he had no face to admit that he truly wanted Qixue’s kiss. Qixue thought he had stumped Ji Yuheng and couldn’t help but feel smug. He lightly hummed and said, “You really thought you could fool me? Do you take me for an idiot?”
“I didn’t mean that…”
“No excuses.” Qixue suddenly sat up, thinking of a new idea. “Didn’t you say it wasn’t humiliating enough? Fine then. Strip naked, not a stitch on, and be my slave. Is that humiliating enough?”
“…” A flush rapidly spread to Ji Yuheng’s ears and neck. He firmly refused, “That’s really not possible, My Lady. Any other request is fine, but not taking off my clothes. I…”
“You don’t want to strip?”
Seeing his intense reaction, Qixue’s eyes lit up. “The more you don’t want to, the more I want to see it. Strip, now!”
Ji Yuheng shook his head in embarrassment. “If outsiders saw, my reputation wouldn’t matter, but it might damage My Lady’s good name. Please withdraw the order and choose another request.”
“I just want to see you strip naked.”
Qixue figured Ji Yuheng’s strong resistance meant he had hit a sore spot, so tonight, Ji Yuheng had to strip. If he wouldn’t do it himself, Qixue would help.
Qixue stood up from the chair, a dangerous yet alluring smile coloring his brows and eyes. “Ji Yuheng, I get it. You’re dodging like this because you’re hiding a weapon on you, planning to assassinate me, right? That’s why you won’t undress?”
Ji Yuheng was stunned and quickly explained, “The short sword I carry was already taken by My Lady’s attendants. I have no other weapons.”
“Words are cheap. You need proof, or how can I believe you?”
Qixue loomed over him, bending down to pat his cheek.
“The esteemed Nanping Heir harboring ill intentions against a delicate palace consort like me, plotting assassination—if I told His Majesty, wouldn’t it implicate your mother and all your fellow countrymen back in Nanping?”
In truth, Qixue was just saying it offhand. He never intended to harm innocents. If he slaughtered them indiscriminately, wouldn’t he be as repulsive as Xie Shu, who massacred Dali Mountain in the original story? He couldn’t do such a thing.
Ji Yuheng fell silent. He didn’t believe Qixue would tell Helan Ji—after all, it would get Qixue in trouble too. But since Qixue had said it, it meant he wouldn’t let it go easily today. No matter what, he wanted Ji Yuheng’s clothes off, or he’d call in attendants to strip him by force.
“Fine.” He agreed. “If it makes My Lady happy, I’m willing to undress.”
“Go on then.” Qixue sat back down, propping his chin lazily as he watched Ji Yuheng kneel at his feet and begin undressing.
Ji Yuheng removed his hair crown, letting his black hair cascade down. Then he undid his belt, shedding his outer robe and inner garment, baring his tall, fit upper body.
His face was refined like jade, his bearing elegant and noble, his skin fair. Qixue had always known he had a good figure, but he hadn’t expected the muscles to be even more defined than imagined—broad back and chest, distinct abs, with faint veins trailing downward.
Qixue scanned him up and down, making Ji Yuheng blush, before saying, “Turn around. Let me check if you’re hiding a weapon.”
Ji Yuheng stood, placed his clothes on the chair back, and obediently turned. The lines of his back muscles were equally striking—standard broad shoulders and narrow waist, accentuating his long arms and legs.
Of course, he carried no weapons, nor anything hidden at his lower back. Qixue’s gaze swept over him once, and seeing him stop, he said discontentedly, “Why’d you stop? Keep going.”
Ji Yuheng hesitated. “The pants too? Even the undergarments?”
Qixue’s tone was gentle. “Do I need to explain what ‘not a stitch on’ means to the Heir?”
“…” Ji Yuheng shook his head in silence and shame, continuing to untie his trouser belt.
Actually, removing the first piece was the hardest. At this point, fully naked or not made no difference—his dignity was already gone in Qixue’s eyes.
With the faint rustle of fabric, the last piece fell to the floor. Ji Yuheng hung his head low, ears red as blood. Without needing Qixue’s order, he knelt submissively before him.
He didn’t dare look at Qixue’s face, completely unaware that Qixue’s eyes had widened in shock, like a startled cat, his voice trembling slightly. “You… you still say you have no weapon? What’s that if not one?”
He might have been better off not saying it—now Ji Yuheng felt even more ashamed, closing his eyes in self-deprecation and guilt. “I’m sorry… for dirtying My Lady’s eyes.”
Qixue felt utterly uncomfortable and quickly averted his gaze. But that felt too embarrassing; he couldn’t show weakness in front of Ji Yuheng. Forcing himself, he looked back.
His tone was seductive and mocking. “Never expected the Heir to be a donkey spirit in disguise. Look at that—barely human anymore. You’re one wild donkey.”
Ji Yuheng was mortified by the ridicule. Being so pathetic in front of his beloved and mocked like this struck him hard, but he could only say, “I really have no weapon.”
“Then explain what that is?”
“It’s my…” Ji Yuheng faltered.
“Say it.” Qixue kicked his shoulder with his bare foot.
“…” Ji Yuheng murmured two words softly.
“Can’t hear. Louder.” Qixue kicked him again.
“It’s—”
“Louder still.”
A few short exchanges left Ji Yuheng drenched in sweat, his expression so ashamed he looked ready to die. Finally satisfied, Qixue said graciously, “Alright, massage my feet.”
Ji Yuheng froze. “Like this?”
“What else?”
Qixue gave him a sidelong glance. Truthfully, he didn’t want to keep staring at Ji Yuheng’s “donkey” either, but to humiliate him, it was necessary. Ji Yuheng’s devastated expression showed just how effective it was.
At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before Ji Yuheng hated him to the bone. Once resentment festered, breaking his Destiny would be easy, wouldn’t it?
“…Yes.”
Ji Yuheng responded softly, cradling Qixue’s foot onto his thigh and beginning the massage.
His emotions had been overwhelmed and were numbing. Shame had peaked beyond endurance.
He had lost all face before Young Master Xue, kneeling like a fawning pet, servile and coquettish to the bone. How could Young Master Xue like someone like him? Xue didn’t even see him as a male favorite—no interest in his body at all.
His self-esteem shattered, while Qixue felt the opposite—utterly delighted.
No matter how heartbroken, Ji Yuheng served Qixue gently and attentively. Partly because he was naturally meticulous, partly from his adoration, instinctively wanting to care for him—even if Qixue saw him as a mere plaything, without affection.
Plus, Ji Yuheng had a knack for charming small animals. Last time, Qixue had melted like a soft bunny pancake under his petting; this time was worse, succumbing easily to the massage, drifting into drowsy comfort.
Growing sleepier, his body slid down, tumbling off the chair. Ji Yuheng startled and caught him. “Careful!”
Qixue landed in Ji Yuheng’s arms, snapping awake. Panicking, he hooked Ji Yuheng’s neck, his waist and legs sinking down—right onto…
“Ah!”
Qixue sprang up like he’d been scalded, slapping Ji Yuheng in furious shame. “Get off!”
Ignoring any backlash, the slap was full force, reddening Ji Yuheng’s cheek.
Ji Yuheng felt the pain, a handprint forming, but not too obvious—his face was already flushed crimson. Even numb, this was peak mortification. “I’m sorry, My Lady, I—”
“Get out, get out, get out!”
Qixue grabbed Ji Yuheng’s clothes and hurled them at him in rage.
Ji Yuheng dressed, hesitating before kneeling again to beg forgiveness. “This subject deserves death ten thousand times. Please grant me death, My Lady.”
“Death? You’ll be the death of me!”
Qixue smacked him a few more times, tears of humiliated fury in his eyes.
Normally, he wouldn’t care, but with Ji Yuheng, he loathed him so much it was unbearable. “You’ve dirtied me, you stinking donkey spirit—get back!”
“…This subject takes his leave.”
Ji Yuheng left, dejected and worried. Qixue sadly headed to the bath, scrubbing himself relentlessly. He hadn’t touched directly—it was through clothes—but psychologically, he felt soiled, steeped in Ji Yuheng’s scent, unwashed no matter how hard he tried.
Dong Yuan parted the gauze curtain and entered, kneeling by the pool. He gently lifted Qixue’s long hair, applying light fragrance. “Don’t be sad, My Lady. If you wish, I’ll kill him now—chop his corpse and feed it to the dogs at the mass grave.”
“Forget it. You can’t kill him.”
Qixue said glumly, “If I could, I’d have done it ages ago. No one can touch him. Don’t waste the effort.”
“Then how can I ease My Lady’s worries?” Dong Yuan leaned close, whispering in his ear.
Qixue bit his lip. “Prepare some torture tools for me… Nothing painful, nothing harmful. For use on Ji Yuheng.”
“No pain, no injury?” Even suave Dong Yuan paused. “What kind of torture is that?”
Qixue deflated. “None?”
Dong Yuan pondered. “No such tools, but some bedroom toys could substitute… With drugs, they can make life worse than death.”
Qixue brightened. “Get them for me.”
“But My Lady,” Dong Yuan said, “you’re still bringing Ji Yuheng to the palace?”
“Of course.”
How could Qixue abandon his plan over this minor setback? “I will torment him until he wishes for death… Same time tomorrow night. Bring him.”
