As the door was pulled shut, the footsteps outside the courtyard gradually faded away, and the atmosphere inside the room became as cold as if it had frozen.

Ji Fengyao lowered her head and saw from under her bridal veil that the person next to her was also dressed in a bright red wedding gown.

Shang Xiye reached out and picked up the sheepskin blanket that had fallen in front of the bed, then covered his lap again. His slender fingers were clean and strong, making them exceptionally beautiful. There were thin calluses on the base of his thumb, indicating that he was used to swords. The skin on his fingers and the back of his hand was excessively white, as if the blood beneath his translucent skin was also white, giving it a jade-like and icy appearance.

Ji Fengyao had initially thought that the Ninth Prince's injuries and illnesses were all an act, a means to scare away his host. Now it seemed that he was genuinely injured, and severely so, and deeply poisoned.

If his injuries and the toxins are not brought under control, he will probably turn into a human-shaped ice sculpture in less than three months.

Given his current condition, the fact that he is not bedridden but can sit here to marry her only shows that his willpower is stronger than most people can imagine.

Seeing that Shang Xiye had no intention of lifting the veil, Ji Fengyao couldn't stand the oppressive atmosphere and decided to take the initiative.

She reached out and pulled off the red veil from her face, got up and walked to the table in the room, sat down facing him, and carefully looked at this war god who was rumored to be a god, but who was also cursed by the old and young of Vulture Village because of her.

He wore a half-gold mask, his eyes were like cold, sharp stars, his eyelashes were long and curled, and he was very handsome. He had a high, straight nose, and his lips were as pale as the skin on his chin, like flower petals stripped of their color. His chin was pointed. Judging from his features and face shape, he must have been very good-looking.

But even the most beautiful face can't withstand the ravages of acne.

What a pity.

Ji Fengyao shook her head regretfully, poured herself a cup of tea, and took a sip: "To be honest, I have no improper thoughts about you."

He put down the teacup, opened his sleeve, and a wad of brocade fell out.

Ji Fengyao was unable to save him in time, and the brocade cloth fell to the ground and spread out in all directions. On the top picture, two little figures were seen embracing each other on a blue stone among the flowers and leaves, with the woman on top and the man on the bottom.

Shang Xiye's expression immediately darkened several degrees, and his eyes almost shot out icy blades.

The slap in the face came too fast, like a tornado.

Ji Fengyao tried her best to maintain a polite yet awkward smile, quickly stepping on the brocade cloth on the ground and moving under her skirt, pretending that Shang Xiye was blind and couldn't see it: "It's not that I don't want to annul this marriage. You are a member of the royal family, and you should know better than me that the imperial decree cannot be disobeyed. Besides, I think that a person should have lofty ambitions. Although we are bandits, it doesn't prevent us from having a heart that soars to great heights. Accepting the imperial court's offer of amnesty would benefit my father, my brother, and my younger brother."

Shang Xiye snorted coldly. A bandit dared to talk to him about ambition.

And a bright future awaits?

How dare she say that?

Ji Fengyao shifted her position, crumpled the brocade under her skirt into a ball with the sole of her foot, and stuffed it under the chair leg to weigh it down: "Besides, we have no conflict of interest, so we can form a united front and achieve a win-win situation."

Shang Xiye then lifted his eyelids, gently stroking the sheepskin blanket on his lap, and said indifferently, "I don't think marrying a bandit would bring me much benefit."

"Cooperating with me will bring you benefits far beyond your imagination," Ji Fengyao snapped her fingers with her right hand, her phoenix eyes, with their upturned corners, raised an eyebrow at Shang Xiye and smiled, exuding a charming and seductive air: "At least, you won't have to worry about dying from the poison and turning into an ice sculpture in three months."

After saying that, Ji Fengyao slowly stood up.