Dao Qing stepped over the threshold of the Ancestral Master Hall, his pale vertical pupils as translucent as amber, gleaming with an icy luster.
He stared at Qixue in Wei Huai’s arms. “Since you’re the Noble Consort, why are you tangled up with Wei Huai?”
“You’re Xie Shu’s dragon?”
Wei Huai pulled Qixue behind him, blocking Dao Qing’s line of sight, and sized up Dao Qing with keen interest. “Why aren’t you staying nicely on the Back Mountain and instead meddling in our affairs?”
Dao Qing ignored him and placed the scriptures he carried onto the table. He continued speaking to Qixue. “Between Helan Ji and Wei Huai, who is truly your husband?”
“They’re both my husbands.”
Qixue stepped out from behind Wei Huai. Though displeased with Dao Qing’s attitude, he thought of his need to probe for information on Xie Shu and held back his temper. “Seventh Brother was my former husband, and His Majesty is my current one. What’s the issue?”
Hearing this, Wei Huai’s eyes lit up. He whispered in Qixue’s ear, “You’re finally willing to admit I’m your husband?”
“Don’t make trouble.”
Qixue lightly patted him. Wei Huai accepted it with a smile, looking utterly satisfied.
Dao Qing looked at Qixue. “This is a pure land of the Daoist sect. You can’t just fool around here. Besides, neither of them is a good match for you. You shouldn’t be so intimate with them.”
“I’m really puzzled,” Qixue said. “You keep going on about good matches left and right. If neither His Majesty nor Seventh Brother is fated for me, then who is? Could it be you?”
Dao Qing fell silent.
Wei Huai narrowed his peach-blossom eyes, a flash of eerie green darkness passing through their depths. “Little silver dragon, you should know humans have a saying: ‘Disaster comes from the mouth.’ A loose-tongued dragon might have its tongue pulled out, its fangs knocked clean, and its entire jaw sliced off for appetizers with wine. Want to give it a try?”
A smile played on his face, but he exuded a dangerous aura. Yet Dao Qing wasn’t one to be intimidated. He met Wei Huai’s gaze coldly, his eyes sharp as arrows, chilling and commanding.
The atmosphere in the hall grew increasingly tense. Qixue had to step in to mediate. “Alright, Seventh Brother, that’s enough. I believe Dao Qing means no harm. I need to talk to him alone for a bit. You go back first. I’ll find you when I’m free.”
Wei Huai asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“It’s fine.” Qixue tiptoed and kissed him. “Go on.”
Wei Huai touched the spot Qixue had kissed, smiling helplessly as his expression softened. “Alright, I’ll head out. Call me if anything happens—I’ll be right outside keeping watch. I’ll escort you back to your room later.”
“That works.” Qixue didn’t refuse. “Go ahead.”
Wei Huai left the Ancestral Master Hall. Before departing, he shot Dao Qing a glance laced with warning.
The hall quieted down. Qixue turned to Dao Qing, asking discontentedly, “What exactly do you mean by all this?”
“What do you mean?” Dao Qing countered.
Qixue pressed, “You say His Majesty and Seventh Brother aren’t good matches for me. What proof do you have?”
“The divination.” Dao Qing replied, “Your Heavenly Destined Marriage lies with someone else.”
Qixue looked skeptical. “Divination? Who divined my marriage fate?”
Dao Qing explained, “It wasn’t divined for you specifically. It just happened to involve you during someone else’s reading.”
“So you’re saying the one who got the divination is my fated partner?” Qixue was astonished. “Who is it?”
Dao Qing fell silent again. Qixue hated people who played mysterious, so he deliberately provoked him. “If you won’t say, I’ll assume it’s you. You do seem pretty suspicious—why else would you care who I’m with?”
“Think what you like,” Dao Qing said.
This response left Qixue uncertain if it really was Dao Qing. In any case, Qixue didn’t fully believe him. Heavenly Destined Marriage? The only one truly fated for him was His Majesty. Everyone else was fake.
Qixue dropped the subject, treating it as idle talk. Otherwise, Dao Qing would have just spelled it out instead of being so vague.
He said, “Forget it. I’m not actually interested in whoever you mean. As you’ve seen, I’m His Majesty’s Noble Consort now. The one I love most is His Majesty. Seventh Brother is also my beloved paramour. I won’t abandon them for some so-called Heavenly Destined Marriage. Mind your own business—it has nothing to do with you, and I won’t listen anyway.”
Dao Qing frowned slightly and was about to speak when Qixue cut him off, not wanting to discuss it further. He deliberately approached the scriptures. “Let me check the ones you were punished to copy. See if you slacked off.”
“…” Dao Qing paused in silence and didn’t press on. “The scriptures are all newly written. See for yourself.”
Qixue flipped open one volume. The ink on the pages was fresh, emitting a rich ink fragrance. Some characters weren’t even dry yet. Each page had identical handwriting—bold and vigorous strokes like iron hooks painted with silver, sharp and imposing.
None of the volumes were thin. If Qixue had to copy them, it would take three to five days. He puzzled over how Dao Qing had finished in one afternoon when Dao Qing suddenly asked, “Why did you separate from Wei Huai?”
“What?” Qixue didn’t catch on.
“You said Wei Huai was your former husband,” Dao Qing clarified. “Why did you divorce him?”
“Because I was going to marry His Majesty.”
Qixue admired Dao Qing’s handsome calligraphy and replied casually. “Back then, it was to repay His Majesty’s kindness. Now, it’s because I love His Majesty. As you can see, I’m pregnant—with His Majesty’s child—which is why I have milk. Surely you don’t expect me to divorce him while carrying his child?”
Dao Qing furrowed his brows. “You love Helan Ji? What do you love about him?”
“I love everything. Every part of His Majesty is worth my love.”
Qixue set down the scripture generously. “Fine, you pass. We’re even. I forgive you for peeking at me.”
Dao Qing lowered his head, seemingly lost in thought. Qixue approached him. “You’ve asked me so many questions, and I’ve answered them all. Now it’s my turn to ask you. You have to answer too.”
“Go ahead,” Dao Qing said, looking up.
Qixue asked, “You’ve met Xie Shu, right? What kind of person is he?”
Dao Qing replied, “Are you interested in him?”
“The State Preceptor of Great Yong—who wouldn’t be?” Qixue said.
Dao Qing pondered for a moment. “He’s a very dull person.”
Qixue laughed. “Why talk bad about him behind his back? Aren’t you afraid he’ll find out?”
He glanced at Xie Shu’s statue. Though its eyes had been re-covered with silk, if Xie Shu could truly see the Ancestral Master Hall through it, he might overhear their conversation.
Qixue whispered to Dao Qing, “Can Xie Shu see this place through the statue? Why else cover its eyes? I snuck some of his offerings yesterday. He won’t come after me, will he…?”
Dao Qing paused before saying, “He won’t.”
“Is that ‘won’t trouble me’ or ‘won’t know what’s happening here’?” Qixue pressed.
“He won’t hold it against you.” Dao Qing directly picked up a whole plate of pastries and held it under Qixue’s nose. “If you want to eat, eat.”
Qixue took a piece and ate it—the stolen ones always tasted better. “You still haven’t answered. Can Xie Shu really know what’s going on here through the statue?”
“He can, but he rarely does,” Dao Qing said. “It holds no meaning for him.”
Qixue relaxed. “Then I can badmouth him freely.”
Dao Qing said, “Say what you want.”
“You called Xie Shu dull. You must not like him much, huh?”
Qixue glanced at the statue and gossiped softly with Dao Qing. The thrill of badmouthing someone right in front of their statue was exhilarating. “I hate him too. If you have any complaints, tell me.”
“…” Dao Qing asked, “Why do you hate Xie Shu?”
Qixue couldn’t mention the original plot, but he recalled something. “Seventh Brother stayed at Cloud Moon Temple for a month. When we met again, he was covered in wounds. No one but Xie Shu could have hurt him that badly.”
That day was his wedding to Helan Ji. Wei Huai had blocked his bridal procession, and Qixue had seen his injuries but hadn’t had time to ask. Afterward, Wei Huai never mentioned it, but Qixue was sure Xie Shu was involved.
Dao Qing explained, “Wei Huai violated Cloud Moon Temple’s precepts. Xie Shu locked him in the water prison as punishment.”
“Why did he come to Cloud Moon Temple?” Qixue asked.
“He begged Xie Shu to divine his wife’s whereabouts—you,” Dao Qing said. “Xie Shu told him to wait, but he couldn’t. He threatened to kill all of Cloud Moon Temple’s disciples.”
Qixue was stunned. Only now did he learn how much hardship Wei Huai had endured searching for him—finally finding him only to see him marry someone else, his own best brother. How heartbroken must Wei Huai have been?
Qixue’s heart ached for Wei Huai. He’d only meant to justify his dislike of Xie Shu, but now he truly hated him more because of Wei Huai.
He complained to Dao Qing, “See? Seventh Brother got so badly hurt because of Xie Shu. Of course I feel bad for Seventh Brother and hate Xie Shu.”
Dao Qing countered, “Isn’t the root cause you? Wei Huai broke the precepts to find you.”
“Whose side are you on—mine or Xie Shu’s?” Qixue said irritably. “If you’re siding with Xie Shu, then leave. We have nothing to talk about.”
“…” Dao Qing fell silent.
Qixue poked him. “Say it—which is it? My fault or Xie Shu’s?”
Dao Qing looked aside. “Xie Shu.”
“That’s right.” Qixue’s eyes curved as he leaned in and whispered, “Want a secret? I’m a demon too. We’re on the same side. Why stand with that stinky Daoist Xie Shu?”
His body naturally carried a fresh fragrance mixed with milky scent, creating an even more alluring aroma—rich, warm, and lingering in Dao Qing’s breath, stirring his heart.
Dao Qing finally turned, his gaze falling on Qixue. “You have no demon qi on you.”
“I hide it well. Your cultivation isn’t high enough to detect it.”
Qixue flicked out his rabbit ears, brushing them intentionally across Dao Qing’s handsome face. “See? I’m a rabbit demon.”
Dao Qing reached out, caught the soft rabbit ear, and held it in his palm. “Soft.”
“Rabbit ears are naturally soft.”
Qixue pulled his ear back and retracted it, continuing to cozy up to Dao Qing. “Believe me now? I’m a rabbit demon, and you’re a dragon. We’re the same—we should get closer.”
Dao Qing lowered his gaze to Qixue. Though youthful, he was taller than Qixue, his figure straight and slender like verdant bamboo—refined and elongated.
Suddenly, he raised a hand, caressed Qixue’s cheek, then lowered it.
“?” Qixue blinked in confusion.
Dao Qing turned and left. “Don’t forget what you said.”
“Which part?” Qixue asked.
“Getting closer to me.”
Dao Qing repeated it and walked out of the Ancestral Master Hall. Qixue touched the spot Dao Qing had caressed, murmuring softly, “He’s such a weirdo.”
…
Several days later.
In the early morning, the Emperor’s grand procession departed majestically from Cloud Moon Temple’s gates. Qixue watched the Jade Chariot recede into the distance reluctantly until it vanished completely, then sighed softly. Dong Yuan supported him back to his bedroom.
He continued sleeping, dozing through the entire morning. Ever since becoming pregnant, he’d grown increasingly sleepy. He wouldn’t have risen so early if not to see Helan Ji off.
When he woke, Qixue felt a damp patch on his chest. He looked down at his light pink dudou. At Xu Taifei’s suggestion, he’d switched to it because his milk flowed heavily—easier to change and less likely to soil his clothes.
He called Dong Yuan into the room. Dong Yuan, knowing he’d need to change upon waking, had already prepared it. At that moment, a young eunuch announced from outside, “Your Ladyship, the Crown Prince has arrived.”
“Mother Consort.”
Ji Yuheng’s clear, smooth voice sounded from beyond the door. Qixue’s heart sweetened—he’d been hoping Ji Yuheng would visit. He said gently, “Come in, Yun Qi.”
“Yes.”
Ji Yuheng responded softly and entered Qixue’s bedroom. He removed his cloak, brushed the few willow catkins from his robes, and half-knelt by the bed, speaking toward the curtained figure within. “Mother Consort, your son is here.”
A slender, beautiful hand extended from the bed curtains and gently caressed Ji Yuheng’s cheek. “Good Yun Qi, did you miss Mother Consort these past few days?”
“Yun Qi naturally missed Mother Consort.”
Ji Yuheng lowered his eyelashes, his earlobes tinged with red. He took the initiative to say to Qixue, “Yun Qi… Yun Qi is very obedient to Mother Concubine and hasn’t removed the gift Mother Concubine gave me.”
Before leaving the palace, Qixue had once given Ji Yuheng a Yang-Locking Ring, forbidding him from easily releasing his Primordial Yang.
Hearing that he had been so obedient, Qixue was very pleased. “Words alone prove nothing. Come here and let Mother Concubine see.”
He hooked Ji Yuheng’s collar with a gentle pull that Ji Yuheng found impossible to resist. In this way, he was effortlessly drawn onto the bed. Ji Yuheng only had time to hastily kick off his black boots before his figure vanished behind the bed curtains.
The inside of the canopy brimmed with fragrance. Qixue lay prone on the bed, wearing only a bellyband that left his snow-white, plump back exposed to Ji Yuheng.
His skin gleamed lustrous as jade, so fair that it gave off a faint glow. Once Ji Yuheng’s gaze fell on that back, he could no longer tear it away. His mind was also captivated by the sweet, warm aroma, and he murmured in a daze, “Mother Concubine…”
Qixue rolled over. His cheeks were flushed pink, his beauty utterly bewitching. In truth, he felt shy as well, but he wanted even more to see Ji Yuheng utterly entranced by him. Suppressing his embarrassment, he nudged Ji Yuheng’s knee with his foot. “Does Mother Concubine look good?”
“…”
A thin sheen of sweat had already formed on Ji Yuheng’s back. His throat bobbed unconsciously, his expression one of infatuation. “Fragrant as cultivated orchids and sculpted like jade, with a graceful and elegant figure… Mother Concubine naturally looks good.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Qixue’s tone was soft, both tender and seductive. “Can’t you see that Mother Concubine’s bellyband is already wet? Hurry and help Mother Concubine take it off.”
