Chapter 65 Submit and I will make you pleasure every night.
The interrogation room of the military headquarters was filled with the flickering candlelight.
Zhou Ling sat upright in the main seat, his fingertips caressing a warm, smooth mutton-fat jade pendant, the very one he had forced upon Fangru, only to have her resolutely discard it.
The jade pendant was warm to the touch, but it couldn't warm the deep twilight in his eyes.
The sound of chains dragging on the ground came from below the hall. Ma Xian was forced to kneel on the bluestone bricks by two guards.
He tried to straighten his back, but the iron shackles binding his wrists were too heavy, forcing him to lean forward slightly.
"Mr. Ma's son must be three years old this year, right?"
Zhou Ling suddenly spoke, her voice as gentle as if she were chatting casually.
He picked up a secret report from the table, but instead of unfolding it, he tapped the sandalwood tabletop lightly with his knuckles.
"I heard earlier that the young master caught a cold and had a persistent high fever." Zhou Ling finally unfolded the secret report, his gaze sweeping lightly across the paper. "I specially ordered someone to bring your son to the imperial camp for treatment, after all... the Imperial Hospital has a more complete selection of medicines."
As soon as he finished speaking, the curtain of the side hall was gently lifted.
A woman dressed in plain clothes walked out slowly, carrying a child who was fast asleep with a flushed face, occasionally uttering a few indistinct murmurs.
"Mother..." The child's unconscious call sent a jolt through Ma Xian's body.
Zhou Ling stood up, paused in front of the woman, and gently touched the child's burning forehead.
"This child has a high fever." His movements were as gentle as if touching fragile glass. "If we don't use the special Ice Toad Powder from the Imperial Hospital, I'm afraid..."
Zhou Ling's fingertips remained on the child's burning forehead, his voice as gentle as spring water: "The Imperial Medical Academy's Ice Toad Powder requires the fluid from the sublingual glands of snow mountain toads, mixed with aged snow water. Currently, only three doses remain in the treasury..."
He slowly withdrew his hand and took out a small jade bottle from his sleeve. The bottle gleamed with a cool luster in the candlelight.
“This dose,” he said, gently placing the jade bottle on the table, “was meant to be used when the Empress Dowager suffered a headache.”
Ma Xian's pupils suddenly contracted as he stared intently at the life-saving jade bottle.
He certainly understood that the child's sudden illness was suspicious. Apart from the emperor in front of him who could turn the world upside down, who else could find his deepest weakness so accurately?
He remembered that to properly hide his wife and children, he had gone through many secret agents, eventually entrusting them to the branch leader in Jiangnan. But unexpectedly…
"I have sent people to search for a long time." Zhou Ling's voice remained calm. "The plum rains in Jiangnan are ultimately harmful to health; it is better to recuperate in the capital."
These words, though spoken lightly, sent a chill down Ma Xian's spine. It turned out that their every move was already under the emperor's control.
Zhou Ling picked up the jade bottle and gently shook it in the candlelight, the liquid inside making a soft gurgling sound.
“Now,” he said, looking down at the swaying liquid in the bottle, “tell me the White Sun Society’s plan.”
The hall fell into a deathly silence, with only the crackling of the candlelight breaking the silence.
Ma Xian's gaze darted back and forth between his wife and children and the emperor, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.
“At midnight…” he finally spoke hoarsely, “when the grain transport ships have passed through the water gate…”
Zhou Ling listened patiently, when the child suddenly woke up crying and whispered, "Daddy."
“Very well, but your son’s life,” Zhou Ling picked up his teacup, the rising steam blurring his deep-set eyes, “will depend on Mr. Ma’s sincerity in the future.”
He stared at the undisguised anxiety in Ma Xian's eyes, a father's most instinctive reaction that could not be faked.
“Now,” he raised his eyes, his gaze like a poisoned arrow piercing Ma Xian’s heart, “tell me what you and my beloved concubine did in the cellar.”
Ma Xian's Adam's apple bobbed violently, each word seemingly ground out from between his teeth: "It was just... discussing how to help her leave. Heaven and earth bear witness, there was never the slightest overstepping of bounds."
A surge of indescribable bittersweetness and relief rushed into Zhou Ling's heart, making him almost tremble.
He believed it.
It wasn't that I trusted Ma Xian's character, but rather that I trusted a father who had completely exposed his weaknesses to the world, and therefore dared not and needed not to lie about this matter.
So, that woman... all those cold words and deliberate distancing were just to spite him.
This realization caused his tense nerves to relax slightly, followed by a surge of deeper anger and a secret, unacknowledged sense of smug satisfaction.
"Did she promise you anything else? Like... taking my life?"
Ma Xian's breath hitched, and this subtle pause did not escape the emperor's notice.
Zhou Ling raised his hand to signal, and the guards immediately pushed Ma Xian's wife and children forward a step.
The children's frightened cries were particularly jarring inside the hall.
"Come at me!" Ma Xian shouted hoarsely.
Zhou Ling remained unmoved, her gaze still fixed on Ma Xian's face: "What else did she say in the Buddhist temple's cellar?"
“She…” Ma Xian looked at his trembling wife and children, and finally said in a hoarse voice, “She wants me to take her away and then do everything in my power to help Bai Yang take His Majesty’s life.”
The air seemed to freeze, and the candlelight flickered uneasily.
Zhou Ling slowly stood up, walked to Ma Xian, but his gaze passed over him and landed on the mother and child embracing in the corner.
"Now tell me Li Hui's whereabouts."
Even with his eyes closed, Ma Xian could still hear his son's suppressed sobs and feel his wife's desperate gaze.
When he opened his eyes again, there was only a deathly stillness in them.
"The cult leader is cautious in his actions..." he said in a hoarse voice, "He never reveals his whereabouts to others."
Zhou Ling's fingertips gently caressed the jade pendant, the warm, smooth texture of the jade contrasting sharply with his current gaze.
He remained silent for a long time, so long that only the faint sound of the candle wick popping could be heard in the hall.
"What a pity," he said softly.
Before he finished speaking, Li Zuo's knife was already drawn.
A flash of cold light, and Ma Xian's body swayed, blood trickling down from the corner of his lips.
He looked one last time in the direction of his wife and children, his lips moved silently, and finally he slowly collapsed to the ground.
As Zhou Ling reached the door, he paused slightly, turned to Li Zuo, and instructed, "Pass down the order: Ma Xian revealed Li Hui's hiding place before he died."
...
Xingyuan sleeping hall.
The candlelight flickered slightly, casting Zhou Ling's shadow long and distorted on the bluestone floor.
The lingering ambiguity of desire in the air, intertwined with a faint wisp of sandalwood, created an atmosphere that was both alluring and oppressive.
Fangru lay on the brocade quilt, her eyes closed, her breathing deliberately drawn out, but her overly taut eyelashes and slightly trembling fingertips betrayed the fact that she had already woken up.
He waved away the palace maids standing by his side. As the palace door closed with a soft thud, the figure on the brocade quilt flinched almost imperceptibly. That subtle movement did not escape his eyes.
Zhou Ling approached step by step, gazing down at her.
Her face still bore traces of wet tears, and her body, repeatedly taken from by him in the Buddhist hall, exuded an unnatural weakness. Her clothes were disheveled and stained with incense ash and his bodily fluids, making her look disheveled and fragile, yet possessing a breathtaking beauty born of devastation.
Without saying a word, he bent down and lifted her up horizontally, along with the thin blanket wrapped around her.
Fangru finally couldn't help but let out a low gasp, and subconsciously clenched his shirt.
"Pretending to be asleep?" Zhou Ling's voice was emotionless as he walked steadily toward the white marble pool outside the hall.
The pool water is drawn from a living spring, shimmering with a cold light in the hazy night, with water vapor rising and bringing a chill to the face.
Without the slightest hesitation, he picked her up and stepped straight into the waist-deep pool.
The icy pool water instantly soaked through her thin clothes, making Fangru shiver and cry out softly. Instinctively, she hugged Zhou Ling's neck even tighter, pressing her warm body against him for warmth.
“Cold…” she uttered a single word, her teeth chattering slightly.
Zhou Ling held her waist with one hand, and with the other hand he went into the water and slowly wiped her soaked clothes, the dried incense ash and mess off her skin.
Clothes were removed, revealing the smooth skin underneath, covered with ambiguous marks.
His hands continued to roam, wiping away the dried incense ash and mess on her skin.
The flowing water washed away the traces, bringing with it a deeper chill and an unspeakable humiliation.
"Wash it clean," he commanded, his voice close to her ear, his breath hot and wet.
Fangru turned her face away, her body stiff as she endured his "cleaning".
As he made his move downwards, beginning a new invasion, she struggled violently, using her last bit of strength to push against his chest.
"No...not here! Let me go!"
Her voice, choked with sobs, broke apart in the ripples of the water.
Resistance was like oil thrown into a raging fire, instantly igniting the darkness in Zhou Ling's eyes.
He easily restrained her flailing wrists, pressed her even tighter against the cold pool wall, and leaned closer.
Fangru looked at his approaching face with despair. There was no emotion on his face, only a cold, almost cruel desire for control.
With a sudden burst of determination, she leaned back and submerged her head in the water.
The icy pool water instantly submerged my mouth and nose, blocking my breathing, and the feeling of suffocation surged over me like a heavy boulder.
Her eyes were tightly closed, her long hair spread out like seaweed, waiting for release, or perhaps even deeper torment.
The light above the water distorted and swayed, and his figure stood there in a hazy way, like a god or demon seeking death.
However, the expected force that would pull them up did not come.
Time seemed to stretch out, each second feeling like an eternity.
Just as she was about to run out of air, Zhou Ling's voice, carrying a strange, chilling calm, clearly pierced her ears through the water:
"It doesn't matter."
Fangru suddenly lifted her head from the water, coughing violently, water droplets rolling down her cheeks and hair.
She gasped for air, her chest heaving, and looked at him in disbelief.
Zhou Ling reached out and touched her wet cheek, his movements even gentle, his fingertips lightly wiping away the water droplets from her eyelashes. But his words were colder than the pool water, each syllable shattering her last hope: "Go ahead and drown yourself. Once you're dead, I'll have a crystal coffin made and place you in my bedchamber. Your body will remain forever as it is now, and I will be able to 'please' you every night."
He spoke with utmost seriousness, as if stating a given fact.
There was no hint of jest in those unfathomable black eyes, only an extreme, possessiveness that transcended the boundaries of life and death.
Fangru's blood seemed to freeze completely at that moment.
She looked at the man before her; he was handsome and powerful, yet more terrifying than any demon from hell.
Death is not a release.
The instinct for survival, and the fear of an end worse than death, ultimately overwhelmed everything.
The resistance and despair in her eyes gradually faded, turning into a deathly silence and desolation.
She trembled, stretched out her stiff arm as if using all her strength, and climbed back up his neck, pressing her hot, water-drenched cheek against his cold neck.
This was a silent, complete surrender.
Zhou Ling felt the body in his arms soften; the once taut back now leaned weakly against him, trembling slightly and uncontrollably.
A cold, victorious smile finally curved his lips.
He lowered his head, his kiss first landing on her trembling, water-soaked eyelids, tasting the slightly salty pool water and the bitterness of her tears, before slowly moving down to cover her cold, soft lips.
The ripples in the pool spread violently once more, lapping against the pool walls in circles, accompanied by suppressed, faint sobs, spreading through the silent night like an endless descent.
After Zhou Ling's repeated and unrestrained demands, Fangru finally fell ill.
She was burning up with fever and her mind was hazy; she looked exceptionally vulnerable lying in the brocade quilt.
When Zhou Ling stepped into the inner room, he brought with him a gust of cold wind and his unique, oppressive ambergris scent.
He dismissed the palace servants and went straight to the bedside, bending down to look at Fangru, whose cheeks were flushed red from the fever but whose lips were pale.
During her illness, she shed her usual indifference and restrained resistance, revealing an unusual tenderness, which only fueled his desire to destroy and possess her.
He reached out, wanting to touch her sweaty cheeks, and even wanted to pull her into his arms, disregarding her illness and making demands again.
In her dazed state, Fangru sensed his approach and intentions. With all her might, she turned her head away from his touch, and in a hoarse voice, she cursed, "You... are you even human... I'm already like this..."
These words were like a spark, instantly igniting Zhou Ling's anger.
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to turn towards him, and sneered, "Are you even human? I am the Emperor! You are my woman, and whenever I want you, you have to give in!"
"Your Majesty..." Fangru struggled weakly, tears streaming down her face, mingling with sweat, "What kind of person is he who only bullies a sick and weak woman..."
"presumptuous!"
Zhou Ling spoke in a low voice, but seeing that she was indeed on her deathbed and even her scolding of him seemed weak and powerless, his desire to force her was ultimately suppressed in the face of her sickly appearance.
He abruptly flung his hand away, stood up, paced irritably around the room, and shouted sharply towards the door, "Summon the imperial physician! Immediately!"
The imperial physician arrived quickly and nervously, and under Zhou Ling's extremely imposing gaze, carefully took Fangru's pulse.
After placing his fingertips on the emperor's wrist for a moment, the imperial physician's brow twitched slightly, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes. He quietly glanced at the emperor's expression, then quickly lowered his head to examine the pulse more carefully.
Zhou Ling took in the changes in the imperial physician's expression and asked impatiently, "How is it? Just a common cold?"
The imperial physician withdrew his hand, knelt respectfully on the ground, and lowered his voice so that only the emperor nearby could hear him: "Your Majesty, the Empress's pulse is smooth and flowing, like pearls rolling on a plate... This is... a pregnancy pulse. Judging from the pulse, she is probably about two months pregnant, and the fetal energy... is slightly fluctuating. She needs to rest and recuperate to ensure a safe pregnancy."
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Author's note: The last chapter ended with "I will personally review it," but I'm afraid of being reviewed, so I won't change it.
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