Chapter 37 A deep-seated hatred for immorality stirred within his veins…
According to etiquette, Fangru returned to her parents' home for a visit.
When Shen's father saw that she had returned safely, although his worries had not subsided, he was somewhat relieved and tears streamed down his face.
At the Shen family home, she inevitably encountered Gu Zhou, who had rushed over upon hearing the news.
The lovers who once made vows of eternal love now stand in silence before each other.
Gu Zhou's eyes were filled with pain and resentment. He found a moment to pour out his heart to her, his words sincere, and he was willing to wait for the day she would divorce him.
Fangru listened quietly, but was surprised to find that the once unforgettable excitement and longing had become so faint.
The Gu Lang before her was more like a distant old dream, warm, yet no longer able to touch her heart, which had been through countless reincarnations and was riddled with wounds.
“Young Master Gu,” she interrupted him softly, her tone so calm it surprised even herself, “the past is the past. Our fate has long since ended, so please don’t say you’ll wait for me anymore. You… deserve a better woman, go find your own happiness.”
When she said these words, she felt little emotional, only a sense of relief that everything had settled down.
It turns out that in the struggle between life and death and power, some feelings really can be worn down.
That night, Fangru returned to her bedroom on the second floor of the Yan residence.
The moonlight streamed in like water, but she tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.
She and Yen Teh have lived in separate rooms since their marriage, and they often eat separately.
This husband in name only required her to play the role of "Madam Yan" on necessary occasions; otherwise, he gave her a great deal of freedom.
Fangru felt grateful for this, and respected this clear boundary and mutual non-interference.
However, at this moment, the daytime disturbances and those vague memories from her past life surged into her mind, churning endlessly.
Suddenly, a soft "snap" was heard, as if a pebble had struck the window frame.
A chill ran through her, and she got up warily, gently pushing open the window.
Under the cold moonlight, a familiar yet dangerous figure stood beside the sycamore tree in the courtyard. Zhou Ling had broken in in the middle of the night, his head slightly tilted back, his deep gaze piercing through the darkness and locking onto her.
That pebble was clearly made by him.
Fangru's heart skipped a beat, then began to pound wildly, whether from fear or something else she couldn't quite tell.
It's only been a few days since that wedding controversy where people swore their oaths in blood.
He brazenly barged in again!
The stinging sensation from the porcelain shards that day still lingered on his wrist, just like the savage mark that clung to his gaze.
She hurriedly put on a coat and rushed downstairs.
The night was cool and still, but it couldn't quell the turmoil in her heart.
She strode up to Zhou Ling, lowered her voice, and said with lingering anger and a barely perceptible tremor, "Are you crazy?! This is the inner courtyard of the Yan residence! How dare you trespass?"
The decisive confrontation just a few days ago is still fresh in my mind, and seeing each other again now gives me a sense of disorientation and temporal displacement.
Zhou Ling merely curled the corners of his lips. The moonlight cast interplay of light and shadow on his face, creating a strange fusion of his imperial majesty and his brazen act of breaking into a private residence at night.
His gaze lingered on her without any attempt to look away, from her pale face and bloodstained wrist that day to her thin figure wrapped in her coat now. His tone carried a sense of self-righteousness that was more dangerous than it had been suppressed: "I missed you, so I came to see you."
These words, though spoken lightly, made her more uneasy than the thunderous rage of that day.
His fury when he stormed off that day is still fresh in our minds. What kind of turbulent waves are hidden beneath this seemingly calm entanglement?
"You..." Fangru was speechless with anger, feeling that this person was utterly unreasonable. "I've seen it, please leave immediately!" She tried to build a defensive line with her cold tone.
"What if I don't leave?" He sat down leisurely on a stone bench, his posture languid, yet exuding an invisible sense of oppression, as if he were the master of this place.
That day, she threatened to kill herself to force him to back down temporarily, but clearly, he never truly relinquished control.
"What exactly do you want?" Fangru was both anxious and afraid, terrified of being discovered and even more afraid that this brief peace would be shattered completely. "If General Yan finds out..."
She brought up Yen Teh, hoping to make him think twice.
He won't know.
Zhou Ling interrupted her, his eyes dark and filled with a knowing mockery, "The guards in this mansion are all very 'sensible' right now."
He casually revealed his methods, and reminded her once again how vulnerable the so-called barrier of marriage was in the face of his power.
Fangru instantly understood that he must have used some means to distract the guards.
A chill ran down his spine, mixed with the lingering humiliation from that day.
She said no more, took a step forward, and almost instinctively reached out to push him away, attempting to drive him away as she had failed to do that day.
Just as her fingertips were about to touch his brocade robe, she froze. The image of his hot breath and aggressive gaze as he approached her flashed before her eyes, filling her with fear.
Fangru's hand froze in mid-air, unsure whether to move forward or backward.
Zhou Ling's gaze swept over her slightly trembling fingertips, and a smile that was neither a smile nor a frown appeared on his lips.
"What? Where's the courage you had that day when you threatened to kill yourself?" His voice was low, like a lover's whisper, yet every word was barbed. "Or is it that you're only willing to bleed in front of your 'husband'?"
"If Your Majesty has come to humiliate me, then your purpose has been achieved." She turned her face away, her voice as cold as ice. "Please leave."
Zhou Ling didn't respond. Instead, he stood up and approached step by step.
The moonlight stretched his shadow long, completely enveloping her.
“After I left that day, I thought about it for a long time.” He stopped a step away, his gaze intense. “Every word you said in the wedding hall, every drop of blood you shed, lingers in my mind.”
His tone suddenly softened, carrying an almost seductive tenderness: "Fangru, come with me. What Yan De can give you, I can give you ten times over. Titles, status, even freedom... as long as you nod."
Fangru almost let out a cold laugh.
Freedom? How ironic it is for him to utter that word.
"Does Your Majesty still consider me a subject you can manipulate at will?" She raised her eyes, meeting his gaze without fear. "I am now Lady Yan."
She deliberately emphasized the words "Madam Yan".
Sure enough, anger surged in Zhou Ling's eyes, but he quickly suppressed it.
"Well done, Madam Yan." He chuckled softly, then suddenly reached out, so fast she couldn't react, his fingertips lightly brushing against the not-yet-fully-healed wound on her wrist. "And for whom was this left? For your 'husband'? Or... for me?"
His touch was as hot as fire.
Fangru suddenly took a step back, her heart pounding like a drum.
"Your Majesty, please have some self-respect!"
"Self-respect?" Zhou Ling seemed to have heard something amusing. "From the moment you first intruded into my life, those two words have become meaningless."
He moved closer again, almost whispering in her ear, "You think you can get rid of me by marrying into the Yan family? Fangru, you're too naive. I can make you a widow anytime I want."
The murderous intent in those words sent a shiver down her spine.
But what alarmed her even more was that a wavering had crossed her mind, not because of his threat, but because of the almost obsessive possessiveness in his words.
Just then, a faint sound of footsteps came from afar.
Fangru's expression changed drastically; it was a night patrol servant!
She instinctively pushed Zhou Ling: "Let's go!"
Zhou Ling didn't move an inch. Instead, he reached out and put his arm around her waist, leading her into the depths of the sycamore tree's shadow.
"What are you afraid of?" His breath brushed against her ear. "I said, no one will disturb us tonight."
As the footsteps drew closer, Fangru was so nervous she could almost hear her own heartbeat.
She was trapped between the shadows of the trees and his embrace, with nowhere to escape.
The footsteps grew closer, and the wooden corridor creaked clearly, accompanied by the low murmurs of the servants talking.
Every sound struck Fangru's taut nerves.
She was trapped between the dense shadow of the sycamore tree and Zhou Ling's firm embrace, her back pressed against the rough, slightly cool tree trunk, while in front of her was his burning body temperature and irresistible confinement.
"Let go..." she tried to struggle, but her voice became weak due to extreme tension and some unspeakable tremor, more like a powerless sob.
Zhou Ling did not let go; instead, she leaned closer.
His nose almost brushed against her forehead, his warm breath caressing her sensitive eyelids and cheeks, carrying the unique, aggressive scent of ambergris.
"Shhh."
His deep warning slipped into her ear, like the most tender words of love, yet carrying a deadly threat.
"Do you want to lure them all here? Let them see what their general's wife is doing with me in the courtyard late at night?"
His words were explicit and vile. One hand still held her waist tightly, while the other slowly rose and gently caressed the lines of her jaw with his fingertips. Then, it moved down her slender neck and stopped at her collarbone, which was heaving violently with panic.
Wherever the fingertips touched, it was as if a string of tiny flames were ignited.
Fangru's body stiffened, as if all the blood rushed to her head in an instant, then quickly receded, leaving behind a cold, dizzy feeling.
The humiliation intertwined with a familiar, forcibly awakened physiological shiver, making her almost unable to stand.
She wanted to scold him, to push him away, but her body felt as if all her strength had been drained, and she could only feel the terrifying touch of his fingertips.
The footsteps of the servants were already close by, and the glow of the lanterns could even be faintly seen through the gaps in the layers of leaves.
Zhou Ling seemed to enjoy her fear and helplessness at this moment. He lowered his head, and his lips brushed against her temple, leaving a touch that was almost a kiss.
“Look,” he whispered almost in a breath, a cruel smile playing on his lips, “they’re right there. If only I let go now, or if you make the slightest sound…”
His words came to an abrupt end, leaving behind an infinitely ambiguous and dangerous space for imagination.
Fangru held her breath, her teeth chattering.
She could feel the vibrations coming from Zhou Ling's chest; it was his suppressed chuckle.
In this corner where she could be discovered at any moment, the emperor's audacity contrasted sharply with her vulnerability, creating a twisted, immoral tension that grew wildly in the air.
The footsteps paused briefly a few steps away before fading into the distance.
Only after confirming that the danger had passed did Fangru take a deep breath, as if she had been rescued from drowning.
Zhou Ling then slightly loosened his grip, but did not completely let go of her.
By the moonlight, he admired with satisfaction her flushed cheeks and moist eyes, a physiological reaction born of extreme tension and stimulation.
"Why pretend to be such a stranger?" His voice carried a hint of cruel pleasure. "I've already seen you like this back in the woodshed of the White Sun Society."
These words were like a needle, precisely piercing Fangru's forced composure.
A surge of heat uncontrollably rushed up her ears and cheeks, a physiological reaction that made her feel incredibly ashamed.
He saw it; he must have seen the shameful reaction of her body when he approached—a betrayal more direct than words.
She hated his all-knowing gaze, and even more so the trembling that was quietly flowing in her veins, stirring restlessly.
He deliberately brought up the woodshed, as if to remind her that her body had long since let down its guard against him.
Fangru abruptly turned her head, trying to hide her burning cheeks, her voice filled with exasperation at having her pretense exposed: "Since Your Majesty has already seen the most wretched form, why bother to verify it again? Do you perhaps want to see with your own eyes how people learn to grow thorns?"
She knew perfectly well how soft her thorns were in his eyes, but she would rather act like an angry hedgehog than let him realize that beneath those sharp thorns lay a tingling, throbbing feeling for him.
He finally took a step back, resuming his superior posture, as if the man who had been pressing him and threatening him with lust was just an illusion.
"Remember how you felt tonight, Fangru." He straightened his slightly wrinkled sleeves, his tone returning to calm, yet even more chilling. "See you tomorrow night."
After saying that, he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving Fangru alone leaning against the tree, her legs weak, her heart pounding, her whole body still lingering with his domineering aura and that suffocating, burning heat mixed with fear and inexplicable excitement.
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