Chapter 27 You Bet on Me All Night During the Chess Game
Fangru's consciousness struggled to emerge from a warm confinement.
The warmth was continuous, coming from the firm, elastic touch that pressed against her cheeks and neck.
The scent lingering around his nose was complex, a clean masculine breath mixed with the slightly burnt smell of hay, and a hint of a chilling coldness that was barely perceptible and unique to Zhou Ling.
The overwhelming intimacy made her heart clench, and she abruptly opened her eyes.
As far as the eye can see, there are the undulating muscle lines beneath the fabric, right up close.
She was resting her head on Zhou Ling's lap, in a posture of complete dependence that should never exist between them.
The fourth reincarnation! The fourth reincarnation of the favored concubine!
Deep within the red walls of the palace, countless mornings she would wake up in this very position, only to find herself already firmly locked in his arms, his aggression omnipresent.
Resting her head on his lap was once her pitiful and useless defense, a desperate attempt to exchange this limited "obedience" for more peace, but it was always in vain.
But at this moment...
Her body was stiff, yet she was acutely aware of every inch of contact.
There was no iron arm encircling her as expected, no chest pressed tightly against her chest, not even his usual hands lingering playfully in her hair or on her back.
He actually... just let her use it as a pillow?
This huge anomaly set off alarm bells in her mind.
Is it a conspiracy? A trick? Or...?
A more unsettling speculation is quietly brewing, perhaps related to the sudden approach in the darkness last night.
That gesture contained no intimacy, only pure warmth and protection, which shattered all her sharp defenses.
She needs to see him for who he truly is.
Fangru tried her best to keep her breathing steady, her eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings, and she pretended to unconsciously and very slowly raise her eyelids.
Without warning, I stumbled into a deep, unfathomable abyss of darkness.
Zhou Ling didn't sleep at all, nor did she look around.
He kept his eyes lowered, his gaze as calm as a frozen lake, but beneath the ice, a turbulent undercurrent seemed to be surging wildly.
His gaze precisely captured her, meticulously and greedily tracing her contours from her slightly furrowed brows to her trembling lips, as if he wanted to devour her whole.
The focus and almost painful restraint contained within it strangely overlapped and merged with the possessive and burning gaze he had given her in her fourth life, making it even more unsettling.
Fangru's heart suddenly pounded out of control, making her eardrums ring.
A surge of intense heat shot up her spine and spread throughout her body, making her fingertips tingle slightly.
She was as if frozen in place, drowning in his eyes, so complex that she couldn't understand them at all, yet instinctively feeling both threatened and attracted.
The air seemed to freeze, thick and viscous, stretching out invisible threads that tightly wrapped around the two people in the audible distance between them.
She could even see the faint shadow cast by his drooping eyelashes under his eyes, and feel his slightly hot breath brushing against her forehead.
Time seemed to have passed for a long time, yet it also seemed to have only been a moment.
Fangru almost melted in this suffocating eye contact, but Zhou Ling suddenly let out a very slight, almost sighing breath.
The scent brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.
He finally moved, but instead of pushing her away, he raised his hand.
Fangru suddenly closed her eyes, her body shrank almost imperceptibly, thinking that he was finally going to stroke her face or hair as he had in her previous life.
The expected contact did not occur.
The hand with its distinct knuckles paused only slightly in mid-air before restrainedly and casually brushing away a blade of dry grass that had fallen on her shoulder.
The movement was as light as a feather brushing past, yet the ticklish sensation it brought went straight to the heart.
Then, he shifted his gaze to the dusty window, his Adam's apple bobbing clearly, and when he spoke again, his voice was deliberately low and hoarse:
"Awake?" He paused, then added, his tone calm but strangely tense, "...You were on top of me all night, my legs are numb."
Fangru seemed to be burned by those words, instantly sitting up and frantically creating distance, her cheeks so red they looked like they were about to bleed.
The phrase "My legs are numb" echoed in her mind, carrying an indescribable sense of intimacy and embarrassment.
She dared not look at him, hastily turning her gaze elsewhere, her heart still pounding wildly in her chest.
Zhou Ling also stood up, his movements seemingly a beat slower than usual. He walked to the window, gripped the gap in the wooden board with his fingers, and tried to press it firmly.
The muscles in his arms taut with effort, creating smooth lines that exude a sense of restrained power.
The wooden plank remained motionless, only emitting a despairing thud.
"It seems our 'new house' is being guarded very closely." He had his back to her, his voice returning to its usual tone, but still deep. The word "new house" carried a hint of sarcasm and ambiguity that only the two of them understood.
Fangru also walked to the other side of the gap and looked out, her heart sinking to the bottom.
At least seven or eight members of the White Sun Society were blatantly guarding the area, and the windows were nailed shut to prevent any drafts.
Despair spread again, but it was different from the cold despair of the previous night. It was mixed with the burning aftershocks of their brief eye contact and his omnipresent presence, making her even more disoriented.
Zhou Ling still stood by the window in the beam of light, his profile tall and lonely. All the turbulent emotions that had just been revealed in his eyes had been perfectly contained, replaced by a layer of cold, unapproachable indifference.
Fangru felt a strange emptiness in her heart, as if the almost scorching gaze and the restrained flick of her wrist were just illusions born from her desperate predicament.
Zhou Ling reverted to his cold, unpredictable prisoner persona, radiating an aura that kept strangers at bay.
She turned her face away, suppressing the strange sense of loss in her heart, and, imitating him, sat expressionlessly against the woodpile opposite her. The small space was filled with suffocating silence.
Zhou Ling seemed completely unaffected.
He sat quietly for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the messy woodshed. Suddenly, he got up, picked up a few small stones of different sizes and slightly darker colors from the corner, and then found a relatively smooth wooden stick.
Then, he carefully drew a grid of intersecting lines on the muddy ground between the two of them with a stick, and a simple yet clear chessboard appeared.
Fangru watched coldly, wondering what he was up to this time.
Zhou Ling divided the pebbles into two piles, pushing the darker pile to the opposite side of where he had been sitting, and then picked up a few lighter-colored pebbles for himself.
He actually lowered his eyes and focused his mind, playing a game against himself.
His slender fingers held rough pebbles, yet when they landed on the mud floor, they carried a calm and resolute air, as if he were not imprisoned, but rather playing chess and sipping tea in an elegant pavilion.
Fangru was inexplicably stung by his focused and oblivious demeanor.
The accumulated fear, embarrassment, and helplessness found an outlet at this moment.
Fangru smiled faintly, her gaze fixed on the figure focused on the chessboard.
Yes, what is there to worry about now? He is the ruler, and she is the subject.
That's the rule of the outside world.
Here, in this musty woodshed, they were nothing more than two prisoners awaiting an unknown fate, perhaps to become the souls sacrificed to the White Sun Society's flag in the afternoon.
If that's the case, why suppress it any longer?
If I can curse this damn emperor a few more times in these final moments, I'll feel good.
Even if... even if by some miracle he manages to get out alive, he'll settle scores later?
Ha, it's not like she hasn't died before.
Even if she were to be reborn, she would still settle scores with him.
This deal is a win-win situation no matter how you look at it.
Thinking this, the last vestiges of fear in her heart completely vanished, and her voice became clear and sharp, carrying a sense of reckless abandon and undisguised sarcasm:
"Your Majesty has truly refined tastes."
The "Your Majesty" was uttered in a gentle tone, yet it was filled with a strong sense of sarcasm. "You've all become prisoners, yet you still have the leisure to amuse yourself here. What, are you hoping that the food from the White Sun Society will grow legs and run to you, or do you think that these few pebbles of yours will turn into heavenly soldiers and generals riding on auspicious clouds to rescue you?"
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the rough pebbles, her smile growing colder. She delivered a sharp, almost deliberate, retort, as if reminding him, but perhaps more accurately, herself, of a cruel truth:
"Oh, I forgot, you are no longer in the Golden Palace."
Zhou Ling didn't stop placing his pieces, nor did he even lift his eyelids. He simply replied, "It's better than someone acting like a frightened rabbit, either cowering on the side trembling or spewing sarcastic remarks, wasting their energy."
"You!" Fangru was furious, her face burning with anger. "If it weren't for you, how could I have ended up in this state? You jinx!"
"Oh?" Zhou Ling finally looked up, his eyes devoid of warmth, yet they struck her sore spot precisely. "Who was it that clung to my sleeve and used me as a pillow last night? Was it a ghost?"
"You're talking nonsense!" Fangru was both ashamed and angry, almost jumping up. "That's...that's because it's too cold! I would have leaned against any piece of wood or stone!"
"Is that so?" Zhou Ling raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Too bad, I'm neither wood nor stone. And I remember, someone seemed to be sleeping quite soundly, drooling almost all over my clothes."
These were purely sarcastic remarks, but they successfully made Fangru instantly furious, so ashamed and angry that she almost bit her tongue: "You...you shameless! Who drooled! Stop making false accusations!"
Zhou Ling watched her furious, flushed face, a barely perceptible smile flashing across his eyes before he reverted to his usual infuriatingly cold demeanor. He then focused his attention back on the chessboard, slowly placing a piece: "Whether you're spouting nonsense or not, you know it in your heart. Stop being so noisy. A true gentleman doesn't speak while watching chess, don't you understand?"
"You!" Fangru was so angry at his attitude that her heart ached. But seeing him once again immersed in his internal struggle, completely shutting her out, a great sense of boredom and resentment welled up inside her.
This godforsaken place is nothing but dry grass and dust, and there are also menacing enemies outside.
Aside from this annoying guy in front of her, she had no one to talk to.
Time crawled slowly in silence, with only the occasional soft sound of pebbles falling on the mud.
Fangru's gaze was involuntarily drawn to the chessboard.
She discovered that Zhou Ling's chess style was extremely tricky; even when she played against herself, the game was incredibly close and fraught with danger.
After watching for a while, she couldn't hold back any longer. Seeing him about to place a light-colored pebble into a dead spot, she blurted out, "Isn't putting it there just asking for trouble? There's a hand 'pulling' it from the side!"
Zhou Ling's hand holding the piece paused in mid-air. He finally looked up at her again, his eyes filled with scrutiny and... predictable mockery: "Oh? You know chess?"
Fangru felt uncomfortable under his gaze, but she stiffened her neck and said, "I know a little bit! It's better than some people playing games with themselves and enjoying it!"
Zhou Ling suddenly handed her the light-colored pebble in his hand, a very slight, provocative smile curving his lips: "All talk and no action. If you're so capable, come and try. Let me see if your 'little knowledge' is just empty talk."
Fangru looked at the pebble handed to her, then at the unfinished chess game on the ground, and a surge of competitive spirit was suddenly aroused.
Why should I always be looked down upon by him?
She snatched the cool pebble from him, her fingertips inevitably brushing against his, sending a tingling sensation through her.
She forced herself to remain calm, knelt down on the opposite side of the chessboard, frowned and pondered for a moment, then decisively placed the stone in the "ban" position she had just mentioned.
Zhou Ling looked at that move, a genuine surprise flashing in his eyes, which then transformed into a deeper, more intriguing light.
He said no more, picked up a dark stone, and placed it down almost without thinking.
The game truly begins from this point.
In the cramped woodshed, sunlight streamed through the cracks onto the tiny battlefield between the two men, dust swirling in the beams of light.
There were no more heated arguments, only the occasional soft sound of pieces being placed and increasingly heavy breathing.
Using the most primitive chess pieces, in this most wretched situation, they are engaged in a silent yet fierce contest. All their emotions—resentment, anger, embarrassment—seem to clash and flow intensely through this small chessboard.
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