QingWu stepped closer, the rustling of her nightgown barely audible in the stillness. Her gaze landed on the prayer beads and dagger abandoned on the table. A playful smile flickered across her lips as she glanced at the man lying on the bed, his back turned toward her.
The Judge's Brush's voice rang out in her mind, dripping with mockery. "He's so brave, isn't he? Tossing away the ghost-banishing beads and exposing his back to you like this—baiting you to make a move! Come on, QingWu, drain him dry already!"
Ignoring the taunts, QingWu approached the bed. "Is my King already asleep?" she asked softly.
No response. Xiao Chenyuan remained still, feigning slumber. A knowing smile curved QingWu's lips. She slipped off her shoes and climbed onto the bed. With a subtle flick of her fingers, the room's dragon-and-phoenix candles extinguished themselves. Darkness swallowed the space, and in that instant, Xiao Chenyuan's eyes snapped open.
How had she managed that? The flames had vanished after she got into bed—without any visible movement or sign of internal energy. He'd felt her pulse earlier, confirming she was alive and not a martial artist. But if that were true, how could she extinguish the candles without a sound? Was she truly a spirit inhabiting this body?
Lost in thought, he froze as a delicate hand trailed up his side. "My King, are you really asleep?" QingWu's voice was sweet, teasing, her breath warm against his skin.
Her soft form pressed closer, separated by the thin fabric of their nightclothes. Xiao Chenyuan's gaze darkened, cold calculation swirling beneath the surface. Though outwardly relaxed, his body was coiled, ready—like a predator lying in wait. He'd given her this opportunity to approach; now, he watched, calculating her next move.
"I'm a little cold," QingWu murmured, her tone dripping with faux innocence. "You're a man, full of yang energy. Care to warm me up?"
Her body shifted closer, her curves molding against him. Then came the chilling sensation of a cold breeze brushing past Xiao Chenyuan's ear, followed by her voice, laced with eerie malice:
"If you keep ignoring me, I might just devour you~"
An eerie wave of drowsiness washed over Xiao Chenyuan, and his sharp instincts immediately sensed something was wrong. He quickly grasped the delicate hand wandering along his waist, but before he could act further, his consciousness slipped away into the void.
"That'll teach you to pretend and test me. Hope you're satisfied with the outcome," QingWu muttered. She withdrew her hand, then unceremoniously rolled him over onto his back. Eyeing his handsome features, she smirked mischievously and reached out to pinch his face, kneading it with unrestrained glee.
The Judge's Brush chimed in her mind: "Confirmed. You and this man share not only goodwill but also lingering grievances."
QingWu scoffed, her expression smug. Oh, there was goodwill, certainly. But grievances? Plenty of those too. In her past life, he had loved teasing her for being small and young, always flaunting his height and long legs. And he never missed a chance to pinch her cheeks, calling her a "little bun-faced kid."
Well, well. Look who's getting his cheeks pinched now.
By the time she was done, Xiao Chenyuan's chiseled face bore a scattering of red marks, and QingWu felt utterly rejuvenated. Only then did she begin her real work. Undoing the ties of his inner robe, she exposed the bandages wrapped around his waist. Blood had seeped through, staining the fabric. Her gaze traveled upward, taking in the scars that crisscrossed his chest, shoulders, and collarbones. Every visible inch of his body bore a history of injuries—fresh wounds layered over old ones, the sight both tragic and shocking.
QingWu's fingers hovered momentarily before lightly brushing over the scars.
The Judge's Brush tutted. "Tch, tch. What a stubborn life force. Lucky for us, most mortals aren't like him, or we'd really be struggling with revenue targets down below."
Rolling her eyes, QingWu pricked her finger with the Judge's Brush, using it to draw a bead of his blood. "Enough chatter. Analyze his blood properly and tell me what's wrong with him."
The brush protested with a few exaggerated retches but ultimately gave in, savoring the sample. A moment later, it spoke, its tone more serious: "The deadly aura surrounding him has been there for at least a decade. Otherwise, it wouldn't have reached this level of bone-chilling intensity. From what I can tell, someone skilled in the mystic arts has been helping him suppress it, but the results have been minimal."
QingWu's lips curved into a faint smile as she examined the unconscious man. "A decade, huh? Seems like you've had quite the rough journey, Xiao Chenyuan. Tell me, what exactly are you fighting for?"
"Being able to suppress such overwhelming deathly aura is probably 90% due to his own willpower and the murderous intent he's cultivated through years of bloodshed on the battlefield. After all, even ghosts fear truly wicked men."
The Judge's Brush sighed with a touch of grudging admiration. "To endure the relentless chill year after year, feeling like winter even in the height of summer, and not lose his sanity... Your old acquaintance has a downright freakish level of resilience."
QingWu's red lips curled slightly, carrying a trace of pride. "Of course~"
The Judge's Brush quipped, "Why are you proud? I was praising him, not you."
QingWu smacked the brush with a flick of her hand. "Enough nonsense. I gave you a taste of his blood so you can track down whoever cast this deadly curse."
"What a hassle. Why don't you just use your Yin Official Seal? That'd tell you in an instant," the brush complained.
Rolling her eyes, QingWu retorted, "If I use the Yin Official Seal, the underworld will instantly know I've snuck up here. You think I want them breathing down my neck?"
The Judge's Brush wisely refrained from further argument. "Whoever laid this deathly curse on him is no amateur. They cleaned up their traces well—no direct leads. But I've memorized the aura. If I encounter them again, I'll recognize it immediately."
QingWu flicked the brush aside. "So useless," she muttered before leaning closer to Xiao Chenyuan's unconscious face. She mumbled softly, "For the sake of old times, I'll help you out. Otherwise, who cares if you live or die..."
Even though Xiao Chenyuan had been forced into slumber by QingWu's ghostly power, his extraordinary willpower didn't falter. It was as though he was trapped in a foggy dream, faintly aware of the murmuring woman and her hands moving across his body. He struggled to wake, but his body refused to respond.
Through the haze, a crisp, cool scent tickled his senses, reminiscent of the first snow falling upon his lips. There was a faint sweetness intertwined with the chill, carrying an elusive familiarity. This scent... Who did it belong to?
For a fleeting moment, his mind wandered, and his consciousness plunged deeper into the dense fog. That cool fragrance seemed to gently siphon away the corrosive chill entrenched within his body for years. Instinctively, he reached out, clinging to it. Somewhere in the distance, he vaguely heard a woman's muffled grunt of surprise.
QingWu, who had been lightly pressing her lips to his, was startled when his arms suddenly tightened around her waist. Before she could react, their lips collided.
Propping herself up in irritation, QingWu glared at him with exasperation. "Even in your sleep, you've figured out how to take advantage, huh?"
Her lips slightly sore from the collision, QingWu rubbed them in irritation. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she let her nails lightly graze Xiao Chenyuan's neck, leaving behind faint, ambiguous red marks. Then, without hesitation...
"Off you go!"
With a decisive kick, she sent Xiao Chenyuan tumbling off the bed. The man landed with a resounding thud on the floor, and she spread out across the now-empty bed like a queen, comfortably claiming the entire space.
Though his mind remained foggy, Xiao Chenyuan was startled into partial awareness by the jarring impact and the unmistakable words: "Off you go!"
Beneath his tightly shut eyelids, his eyes rolled in frustration, but no matter how much he struggled, they refused to open. His body was still immobilized.
Meanwhile, QingWu pulled the blanket over herself, letting out a satisfied sigh as she drifted into a peaceful slumber. The room returned to its serene silence.
As dawn broke, the first rays of sunlight illuminated the room. The strange heaviness that bound Xiao Chenyuan lifted suddenly. His eyes snapped open, and he propped himself up, sitting with deliberate care. His gaze darkened as he surveyed the scene: his inner robe hanging loosely on his body, a dull ache spreading across his face, neck, back, and waist.
The pain was new, unrelated to his old injuries. It felt more like... he'd rolled across the floor. As for the soreness on his face and neck, its source remained a mystery.
His eyes settled on the woman sprawled on the bed, sleeping deeply without a care for decorum. Her posture was entirely unrefined, limbs flung every which way. Xiao Chenyuan approached the bed and stood there for a long moment, battling the urge to strangle her.
Instead, reason prevailed, calming his simmering anger.
What had happened last night? How had he fallen asleep so suddenly? And what had transpired afterward?
The more Xiao Chenyuan dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed. Last night, that woman had every opportunity to kill him—yet she hadn't.
"My Queen..." His tone remained restrained, but his voice carried a dangerous edge.
On the bed, the woman's elegant brow twitched as her strikingly beautiful face displayed clear impatience. She flipped over, pulling the covers over her head to block him out, continuing to sleep without a care.
"QingWu!" he called, his voice hardening.
From under the blanket came a muffled grumble. "So noisy! Get out!"
Xiao Chenyuan was rendered speechless.
It had been years—perhaps since he was stripped of his crown prince status, humiliated with the title of "Dread King," and sent to the northern borders to lead the army—since anyone dared to speak to him in such a manner. His anger surged anew, but the more furious he became, the calmer his expression grew.
"Does my Queen wish for me to personally see to her getting out of bed?" His words were cold as ice.
The blanket was abruptly yanked open, revealing QingWu's stormy black eyes. Her face was still drowsy from sleep, but her puffed-up cheeks and irritated glare gave her the look of an irate, ruffled little beast.
"I shouldn't have just kicked you off the bed last night," she growled through clenched teeth. "I should've gagged you, tied you up, and nailed you to the wall!"
Her lips curled into a mocking smile as she added, "For someone your age, Your Highness, you sure sleep like an old man—so little and so lightly."
Xiao Chenyuan responded with a frosty laugh. "I have injuries and would've liked nothing more than a good rest. But somehow, I ended up on the floor. Perhaps the Queen would care to explain?"
"You're asking me for an explanation?" QingWu's voice dripped with mock surprise as her hand flew up to cover her mouth. She suddenly let out a soft gasp, her expression shifting.
Xiao Chenyuan's sharp eyes caught the faint split on her lip, which looked swollen and tender. His brow twitched. An ominous sense of foreboding crept up his spine.
Before he could process the implications, QingWu let her hand fall dramatically and batted her lashes, her expression morphing into one of bashful allure. Her voice turned honeyed and sultry.
"Your Highness, whatever you did to me last night... have you already forgotten?"
This woman... Did she actually kick him out of bed?