The crescent moon hung low in the dim twilight; upon the moment of opening her eyes, she felt as if her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. After much struggle, she managed to pry them open just enough to glimpse the glaring light, which pierced through her mind like a sharp needle, prompting her to abruptly widen her gaze, dispelling the chaotic clouds lingering in her consciousness.
The room was spacious and bright, separated by beaded curtains. Lying in bed, she could only see the four windows directly in front of her, unable to discern the position of the door. The lingering fragrance in the air, swirling like wisps of smoke, mingled with the weightless pink gauze that danced gently in the breeze, creating an ethereal ambiance as if she were ensconced in a dream.
Suddenly, a memory from before her unconsciousness resurfaced: a mocking curve formed at the corners of her lips. The Lord of the Tower, with his effeminate beauty resembling that of a woman, shared similar tastes as most women; this shade of pink was certainly something she would never choose for herself.
Attempting to rise and find a more comfortable position, she belatedly realized that she was tightly bound, her hands and feet completely immobilized. Resigned, she lay still on the bed, gazing up at the pink drapes. After a while, she lowered her head and inhaled deeply, her still-dazed mind laboring to make sense of her situation.
The weakness pervading her limbs and the dizziness clouding her senses felt far too coincidental. Everything appeared to be meticulously plotted. The group of dark-clad assailants did not use mere perfume to induce unconsciousness; furrowing her delicate brows, she inadvertently caught sight of the bruises on her hands, and her dark pupils widened in realization. It was that person from the forest.
Had he not been on the brink of death, she would not have lowered her guard. Normally, she would have easily recognized the scent of the drug. However, he had been gravely injured, drenched in blood, and surrounded by various herbs that exuded faint fragrances at night, completely masking the aroma of the drug.
In the treacherous world of the underbelly, his intentions were as elusive as water slipping through fingers. He had exerted so much effort to ensnare her, yet ultimately delivered her to the Lord of the Tower. For what purpose?
Lost in thought, she suddenly heard the sound of the door creaking open. Her fingers twitched, her brow arched, and she lay back down, closing her eyes.
The footsteps drew closer, and the beaded curtains parted with a delicate clinking sound.
Clad in luxurious attire, the Lord of the Tower stood by her bedside, observing the still figure of Xuanyue, who lay with her eyes closed. Her exquisite features and skin, as pale as jade, rivaled his own. The vermilion mark between her brows resembled rippling waves, akin to a small boat gliding into the depths of his heart.
To have captured the attention of the two sons of the Zhou Dynasty and to have this woman devotedly follow him—such a revelation would undoubtedly bring him honor. Yet, this woman was incredibly difficult to tame.
His gaze fixated on the mark between Xuanyue's brows as he extended his hand toward his own face. His hands, well-maintained and fair, were even more delicate than those of a woman. In an instant, his previously pitiful eyes transformed into sharp blades, slicing across Xuanyue's face.
"This face is truly beautiful," he murmured to himself, abruptly turning away. Xuanyue opened her eyes suddenly, watching as he paced the room, the sounds of his search resonating clearly.
Returning to her side, the Lord of the Tower brandished a sharp dagger, crouching down as he raised the gleaming weapon high. Even with her eyes closed, she could sense its deadly edge; a gentle stroke could easily cut through flesh.
"To tempt men," he hissed.
Xuanyue's eyelashes fluttered, a chill running through her, but her apprehension stemmed not from the dagger's glint, but from his seething words laced with animosity.
"Tempt men? Who does he refer to? Lan Yixuan or Bai Zhanfeng? Regardless of whether I truly seduced them, what does it matter to him? He is not a woman."
As the word 'woman' echoed in her mind, her brows twitched, conjuring images of that effeminate face, the lovesick prince sung of by the people of Fancheng. In the entire Lord of the Tower's estate, only the Tower's consort served as mistress; there were no side consorts. Was it love, or was there another reason?
Coming from the modern world, her thoughts were free from constraints. Such notions and ideas might never cross another's mind, but she dared to entertain them.
The cold blade loomed near; she could feel its chilling presence, akin to the biting wind of winter striking her face, penetrating her to the bone. She rolled over several times, colliding against the bedframe, and abruptly opened her eyes.
The Lord of the Tower had assumed Xuanyue remained unconscious; he did not expect her sudden movement, nor did he foresee her piercing gaze locking onto him, her bright eyes sharp and fierce, momentarily halting his hand with the dagger, leaving him frozen in place, staring intently at Xuanyue.
His reaction did not surprise her; she arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips, blooming into a mocking smile as she boldly proclaimed, "Lord of the Tower, you have an affection for men."
With a clatter, the dagger fell from the edge of the bed, the metal clashing against the surface emitted a sharp sound before it struck the ground, landing at the Lord of the Tower's feet. Yet, he appeared lost in thought, his wide eyes fixed on Xuanyue, mirroring the expression of one who had seen a ghost. His gaze brimmed with fear and the fury of having his secret exposed.
What had started as mere speculation now felt confirmed by his reaction. The truth lay in his first response.
No wonder he showed no jealousy toward Lan Yixuan yet wished to mar her beauty.
"You speak nonsense!"
The Lord of the Tower's face darkened, his lips trembling as he shouted at Xuanyue.
To cover one's tracks only served to highlight them, and that was Xuanyue's immediate thought. Little did he know, some evasive arguments only dug one deeper. Had it been Lan Yixuan, he would not have reacted this way; at this moment, his smile would have been all the more elegant and impeccable.
"It's simply an affection for men; it's nothing to be ashamed of."
Xuanyue chuckled lightly, successfully witnessing the stark transformation of his already pale face to a deep purple hue. "Love knows no height, age, or borders, and indeed, it recognizes no gender."
Straightening up, she pursed her lips. No matter how the Lord of the Tower viewed her, he felt mocked. It was not a scandalous affair, yet merely imagining the repercussions of such a revelation spreading sent shivers down his spine. The common folk would point fingers in derision, let alone the nobles and ministers of the court.
He adored the rosy hues of beauty products and embellishments, relishing the act of adorning himself like a flower. The notion of loving men and the thrill of being held by one was a secret he intended to carry to his grave. He had children and a consort; no one would suspect.
Suddenly, the Lord of the Tower crouched down to retrieve the dagger that had fallen to the floor, resembling a wounded and frenzied beast as he lunged at Xuanyue.
Xuanyue smiled faintly—a cold, derisive smile that bore a hint of pity for the unraveling Lord of the Tower. As her wrists and ankles twisted, the tightly wound ropes unexpectedly snapped apart.
He paused, and in that fleeting moment, her hand was poised against his throat. "Speak. What scheme did you and Lan Yixuan devise? Have you used me?"
Her expression was fierce, her bright eyes hinting at the flickering flames of defiance.
Her expression was fiercely menacing, and in her bright eyes, one could faintly see flickering flames.