Zhao Xiheng’s head was not like Zhao Mingxin’s; it wasn’t filled with tofu pudding. As soon as Wei Li spoke, she understood.
From the very beginning, this man had never intended to let her leave Dandong. Everything—every single thing—had been nothing but malicious humiliation and intimidation.
The north wind rose sharply, howling with even greater intensity. The tip of Zhao Xiheng’s nose turned red from the cold, and her eyes stung so much they began to water involuntarily. She wasn’t crying out of a sense of grievance or sorrow; after all, she had endured far more overt and covert mistreatment in the imperial palace than this. She simply wished this cur, Wei Li, would hurry up and drop the curtain; she was freezing to death.
Even if Wei Li was less than a beast, he paused for a moment at the sight.
He had known many years ago that Zhao Xiheng was beautiful. Even as a small child, she had been quite striking, and now she had fully blossomed. Due to its geography, Pingzhou was home to many foreign ethnic groups and people of mixed heritage. Most were handsome or beautiful, yet none could compare to Zhao Xiheng.
With thick ebony hair and ruby lips against pearly teeth, she looked as sweet as could be, her bright eyes shimmering with moisture. Only now, her lips were pale from the cold, the tip of her delicate nose was slightly flushed, and her body was trembling. Yet, this only made her appear more pitiful and endearing.
Her neck and waist were both so slender; he felt as though he could snap someone like her with a single hand.
Wei Li tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curling into a wider smirk, yet the words that came out were hardly human. “Is the little princess wondering now if I am deliberately humilitating and toy with you?”
Before Zhao Xiheng could speak, Wei Li answered himself. “Yes, I am indeed bullying you.”
His eyes crinkled.
“I want to make you afraid, make you cry, make you feel isolated and helpless, and then make you suffer.”
Zhao Xiheng closed her eyes, screaming “lunatic” in her heart. This man must be brain-sick.
She had been raised deep within the imperial palace for fifteen years and had never even seen this man before. She had no idea where this beast got the nerve to single her out for torment.
But the inner workings of such a person were not something a normal person like her could understand. Since seeing her cry made him happy, she would let him be happy. After all, the situation was unclear, and staying alive was the most important thing.
He had killed Pingwei Jiangjun without a second thought. For a princess like her who had lost both mother and father, her death would be of no great consequence. Her uncle would not seek revenge for her, and even if he had the heart to, Pingzhou’s army was strong and well-fed; the Great Zhou couldn’t win. Her death would be in vain.
She stopped holding back her tears, even putting on a bit of the acting skill she usually used to deceive the Empress.
Wei Li watched with great interest as her tears fell like a string of pearls, one by one, crystal clear. Thinking she truly was terrified of him, a secret, twisted sense of vengeful pleasure rose in his heart. Hadn’t she seemed so bold all those years ago? Now she could be scared to tears. How interesting.
With that, he flicked the curtain closed and vaulted onto his horse.
The six horses pulling Zhao Xiheng’s carriage were so terrified that their haunches quivered. Their legs buckled after only two steps, and they all knelt onto the ground together. The carriage tilted with a heavy thud. Zhao Xiheng was quick, bracing herself against the inner wall of the carriage to ensure her face didn’t hit the floor.
“Lord, the carriage horses are likely unusable,” a black-armored soldier reported after an inspection, bowing toward Wei Li.
“Horses from Jinyang are just as useless as the people,” Wei Li mocked, before dismounting his own horse.
The curtain was lifted again, and this time Wei Li climbed straight inside. Hooking his arm around Zhao Xiheng’s waist, he effortlessly tucked her under his arm like a chick and carried her out, tossing her onto his horse’s back.
In the scramble, Zhao Xiheng managed to grab a handful of chestnut cakes and hide them in her sleeve.
His movements weren’t gentle at all, causing her pain all over. Zhao Xiheng was already cursing his mother in her head. The howling wind pierced through her heavy clothing, making her skin and bones ache from the cold.
With her hands hidden in her sleeves, she gripped the pommel, barely managing to steady herself.
Wei Li mounted the horse, encircling her from behind. Her head likely blocked his vision, so he roughly hooked his arm around her neck and pulled her body back against his chest. “Let go. Give me the reins.”
Tears welled up in Zhao Xiheng’s eyes again from the cold. She obediently yielded the reins and held onto the saddle instead.
The two were pressed very close together. Zhao Xiheng could smell his scent, which wasn’t unpleasant.
It wasn’t the elegant incense favored by the officials in Jinyang; it was a crisp, cold scent of pine needles and vegetation mixed with snow and winter wind. It was very clean—quite a contrast to the man himself.
Wei Li was like a small furnace. In such cold weather, being near him felt very warm, cutting through most of the chill.
She sighed inwardly; at least the man was useful for this one thing.
Wei Li clearly didn’t care that Zhao Xiheng was a girl. The horse galloped fast, and the cold wind sliced past like a knife. If they continued at this speed all the way to their destination, Zhao Xiheng felt her face might actually crack.
She was quite satisfied with her face and had no intention of letting it be ruined, so she tilted her head slightly and turned her body, using her sleeve to block the wind.
“Hold on tight!” Wei Li snapped at her. “If you fall off and get trampled to death by the horse, I won’t be the one collecting your corpse.”
He glanced at Zhao Xiheng distractedly. Seeing her face flushed red and her head hung low, trying desperately to hide her face in her collar, he remembered that normal people seemed to be quite sensitive to the cold.
…But.
What did that have to do with him? The more miserable Zhao Xiheng was, the happier he became. He was no normal person.
Wei Li never denied the fact that he was a beast. He was psychologically twisted and a madman, but far from controlling it, he indulged in it.
Truth be told, Zhao Xiheng shouldn’t have been treated this way by him, but his lethal, pathological state of mind was at work.
He lived a miserable life himself, so he couldn’t stand to see others doing well—and even less so if they had witnessed his own misery.
Zhao Xiheng’s luck truly seemed quite poor to have met Wei Li.
After a while, Zhao Xiheng heard Wei Li speak nonchalantly, “Are you cold?”
Zhao Xiheng was already numb from the cold, and her mental reactions had slowed. After a moment’s daze, she slowly nodded.
“Want to get warm?”
“Yes.”
“Beg me.”
“I beg you,” Zhao Xiheng said without a second thought.
She was long accustomed to being flexible; it was only two words, nothing to lose face over.
Wei Li’s face darkened, brewing with a heavy fury as he mocked her, “The most favored little princess of the Great Zhou has so little backbone?”
How could Zhao Xiheng know why his expression had changed? In her mind, Wei Li was already established as a fickle and temperamental figure. It wouldn’t even be surprising if he suddenly flew into a rage and slit her throat with his sword. “I have already begged you.” You have to keep your word.
Wei Li caught the underlying meaning in her words and sneered. Without saying anything more, he yanked off his cloak and threw it over Zhao Xiheng’s head, leaving not a single gap.
The wind was blocked out, and Zhao Xiheng’s face no longer hurt; it even felt quite warm. The cloak carried Wei Li’s fresh scent. She had peeked at Wei Li just now; in such freezing weather, his face hadn’t even turned red from the cold—it was still pale.
…
His skin is probably so thick that even the wind can’t cut through it, Zhao Xiheng guessed spitefully. Taking advantage of the fact that Wei Li couldn’t see her, she stuffed a piece of chestnut cake into her mouth.
After a good while, Wei Li heard Zhao Xiheng’s muffled voice from under the cloak, though he wasn’t sure who she was talking to. “I haven’t been the most favored little princess of the Great Zhou for a long time. My Lord, what you’re talking about happened ten years ago.”
Since his subordinates all called him “Lord,” she figured it wasn’t wrong for her to call him that too.
Wei Li’s thick-skinned face turned several shades of red and white. He pressed down on her head again, gripped the reins, and his lips moved to spit out a few cruel words. “That’s true. Now that your father is dead, who is left to spoil you?” He went out of his way to stab at Zhao Xiheng’s heart.
Damn it! If you don’t need that mouth, donate it to someone in need!
Zhao Xiheng cursed him in her heart.
She truly had the worst luck in eight lifetimes to have run into Wei Li.
The sun was nearly setting, and Zhao Xiheng had no idea where they were going.
Perhaps Buxian City? Zhenbei Wang’s Mansion was built in Buxian City. Having seized Pingzhou, Wei Li should be moving into the mansion.
If they were going to Buxian City, it would be quite an ordeal. Dandong was on the border of Pingzhou, while Buxian was in the east-central part. It would probably take two or three days on horseback; she didn’t know if her life could endure that long.
As the last rays of twilight faded, Wei Li’s horse stopped before a grand manor gate.
He pulled the cloak off Zhao Xiheng’s head.
The dim scenery outside entered Zhao Xiheng’s vision.
Six man-high torches were lit before the gate, their orange-yellow light illuminating the surroundings and lessening the chill.
A group of people was kneeling before the gate, dressed in fine clothes and fur cloaks. Their heads were pressed firmly against the snowy ground. The leader’s voice trembled, sounding terrified. “The Governor of Ji’an County brings his family to welcome my Lord.”
From the tone, he sounded as if he were about to cry. Wei Li acted as though this were normal. He gave a slight nod, dismounted, and hauled Zhao Xiheng down like she was cargo.
The Governor of Ji’an County led them to their quarters, a spacious courtyard planted with evergreen pines and cypresses.
Wei Li went to speak with the Governor, while the Governor’s wife tremulously led Zhao Xiheng to a room.
“Young Madam, you will stay here. If you need anything, please just tell the maids or this humble woman. Please, do not be a stranger.”
Likely thanks to Wei Li, the Governor’s wife was also terrified of Zhao Xiheng, keeping her head lowered for fear that Zhao Xiheng would be dissatisfied with the lodgings.
As they had walked in, a pine needle had fallen onto the woman’s hair. Zhao Xiheng reflexively reached out to remove it for her.
The Governor’s wife was struck with terror and hurriedly knelt.
Zhao Xiheng hadn’t expected such fear, so she held the pine needle in her hand for her to see. “There, this fell on your hair, so I took it off for you. The ground is too cold; don’t kneel while you speak.”
The Governor’s wife’s heart softened. The Lord’s young madam was very young, about the same age as her own daughter. She had originally thought she would have the same temperament as the Lord, but she hadn’t expected her to be so kind-hearted. Still, she didn’t dare overstep, and after giving detailed instructions, she withdrew.
Zhao Xiheng looked around the room’s layout. The furnishings were neat and exquisite. In the inner room was a built-in kang, which was currently being heated.
Having traveled this far, she no longer found it novel. It was exceptionally cold once one passed the Qinling Mountains, so in the north, they used beds in the summer and heated kangs in the winter.
Because Pingzhou had originally been the land of Goguryeo and the population was mixed—including Han, Fuyu, Japanese, Jurchen, Evenki, and Xianbei people—the architectural and interior design styles were different from other parts of the Great Zhou, forming a unique style of their own.