The sword cultivator in white carried him away by the waist just like that, and no one dared to stop them.
The men in black automatically cleared a path. Young Master Li turned ashen, his lips moving slightly, but in the end, he didn’t dare say a word.
The night wind hit them head-on, and Rong Xuanhe shivered.
Being carried away in such a humiliating manner across the entire flower street, the lights of Tianhuan Tower gradually faded behind them. This man’s arms were like iron, and his pace was unhurried, never loosening even a fraction.
Rong Xuanhe had a faint, illusory feeling that he was being paraded through the streets for public humiliation.
“Um.” He cleared his throat and finally found his voice. “May I ask your name?”
Suddenly barging in, insisting on buying him, and spending fifty thousand spiritual stones to boot.
Even though Rong Xuanhe considered his appearance extraordinary, he wouldn’t dare say he was so captivating that someone would fall in love at first sight and cast a spell on him.
The sword cultivator stopped in his tracks.
He lowered his head slightly, casting a cold, sharp glance at Rong Xuanhe like a blade.
Rong Xuanhe offered an awkward, sheepish smile. “Uh, I didn’t necessarily mean you had to answer.”
The sword cultivator put him down and placed his hand directly on the back of Rong Xuanhe’s neck.
Rong Xuanhe closed his eyes in terror, fearing that the next second he would hear a snap from his neck.
However, the slightly cool fingers merely brushed past lightly, the pads pressing against the side of his neck to check the pulse there.
His pulse was racing. Rong Xuanhe curled his fingers nervously, feeling that the man’s gaze made him look like he wanted to devour him alive, while simultaneously suspecting the other was merely verifying his vital signs.
As he darted his eyes around restlessly, the man finally withdrew his hand from his neck.
The sword cultivator continued walking forward, and Rong Xuanhe hurried to keep up.
Having survived without being killed just now, his courage grew a tiny bit, prompting him to ask again: “How should I address you?”
He at least needed to know a name.
The sword cultivator finally deigned to speak: “Husband.”
Rong Xuanhe: “What?”
The sword cultivator’s voice was astonishingly calm, completely devoid of any joking tone: “I am your Dao companion. Call me husband from now on.”
Rong Xuanhe:
His mind went blank. He took a deep breath and addressed the system: “Doubao, help me schedule the divorce proceedings.”
There is no such thing as a divorce. Besides, this system is not called Doubao.
The young man adjusted his expression and said awkwardly, “Isn’t that a bit too intimate? I mean, we have known each other for less than an hour. Do you think you could use a common title instead? I don’t mean to look down on you, but I just think it is better if we are a bit more subtle. Haha, subtlety has been considered a virtue since ancient times, right?”
The sword cultivator ignored him further. Seeing that he had the energy to speak, he formed a hand seal, causing a flying sword to hover in front of the two of them.
Rong Xuanhe was brought onto the flying sword. At first, he found it somewhat novel, but once the flying sword officially took off, whether from the nausea of excessive nervousness or being battered dizzy by the raging headwind, his stomach started churning with wave after wave of acidic fluid.
He grabbed the sword cultivator’s arm, swaying unsteadily with a pale face: “Ugh, slow down, ugh.”
The sword cultivator’s arm seemed to tighten, pulling him closer into his embrace, but this still could not alleviate the stimulation brought by the roller-coaster speed.
Rong Xuanhe desperately wanted to push him away and vomit his heart out, yet he feared angering the other person and getting run through with a sword. Just as he was holding on with all his might, he suddenly felt his feet touch the ground.
Unable to care about anything else, he let out a loud blech and started vomiting.
This body was far too weak and had not eaten anything. After dry-heaving for a long time until the corners of his eyes turned red, he only managed to bring up a tiny bit of sour liquid.
The sword cultivator pulled him up. Seeing his pale face, he shoved something into his mouth that melted the moment it touched his tongue.
He smacked his lips twice and tasted a hint of sweetness.
“Thank you.” Halfway through his sentence, Rong Xuanhe simply could not force the word husband past his lips, so he bit the bullet and corrected himself: “Thank you, Senior.”
The sword cultivator watched him in silence, so intensely that it gave him goosebumps all over, before stiffly spitting out three words: “Su Wenchuan.”
This was his name?
Weak and powerless, Rong Xuanhe changed his tune: “Alright, Senior Su.”
He tried to straighten up, but stumbled and was once again caught by Su Wenchuan.
“Can’t walk?” Su Wenchuan asked coldly.
Rong Xuanhe lowered his head, looking somewhat pitiful, and whispered, “I can walk, it is just that I might walk a little slowly. Please understand, Senior. I am merely a mortal and cannot keep up with your pace. If you do not mind walking slowly, I can manage.”
With that, he deliberately took two faltering steps forward with a shaky gait.
Rong Xuanhe timed it right, and sure enough, Su Wenchuan’s icy voice rang out from behind: “Stop.”
The next second, his wrist was caught by Su Wenchuan, who led him in another direction.
They had only flown a very short distance earlier and had not even left the boundaries of the Den of Iniquity. Su Wenchuan led him directly into an inn nearby, stating succinctly: “Two rooms.”
Rong Xuanhe’s heart eased slightly.
Fortunately, this guy still had some sense of propriety. They were strangers who had suddenly been forced into marriage; if they stayed in the same room, he truly would not dare let himself fall asleep.
The young man stroked his backside with lingering fear, only to hear the innkeeper casually quote an astronomical figure: “One thousand spiritual stones per room.”
“How much?”
Rong Xuanhe wanted to ask if he was trying to rob someone.
The innkeeper raised his eyelids: “Your master has not spoken yet, why are you interrupting?”
Hearing the word master, the young man froze, then flushed a bright red: “He is not my master!”
Things were already awkward enough between him and Su Wenchuan; tossing out a title like master made it even weirder!
Indeed so. Su Wenchuan is the host’s destined partner.
“You are not allowed to speak either!” Rong Xuanhe gritted his teeth.
Su Wenchuan made no comment whatsoever regarding those two words. He paid the spiritual stones, took the white jade room tag, and went upstairs. Rong Xuanhe hurriedly followed closely at his heels.
As the two went upstairs, the Den of Iniquity was everywhere permeated with an intoxicating fragrance, as it was hard to tell what kind of scent it was, richer than floral perfumes yet lighter than face powder, leaving one slightly tipsy.
Arriving at the door corresponding to the room tag, Rong Xuanhe glanced at Su Wenchuan, hesitating whether to say goodnight or thank you.
Instead, right in front of him, Su Wenchuan opened a somewhat familiar box.
Rong Xuanhe looked at it for a moment, recognizing it as the one the brothel madam had given them before they left Tianhuan Tower, and was temporarily baffled.
A slender, knobby-jointed hand pulled out a piece of paper. Without even glancing at it, the man watched as the paper spontaneously combusted without wind, quickly turning to ash between his fingers.
Su Wenchuan lowered his voice: “Your slave registry has been burned. Go to sleep.”
With that, he pushed open the door to the neighboring room and walked in without looking back.
Rong Xuanhe stood in place, stunned for a moment before it finally dawned on him.
He had almost forgotten that he had transmigrated into a young courtesan waiting to be sold, complete with a slave registry. Seeing his emotions flare up when he talked back to the innkeeper earlier must have made Su Wenchuan think he cared deeply about this, so the man had burned it right in front of him?
That was actually quite decent of him.
The young man rubbed his nose and pushed open his own door.
True to a room that cost a hefty sum of money, stepping inside first revealed a sandalwood screen. The interior was no less luxurious than a modern suite; the azure-blue canopy gleamed with flowing light, the floor appeared to be made of white jade radiating a wisp of coolness, and a small tea table by the bed was set with several plates of dried fruits, preserved sweetmeats, and pastries.
Ding-dong! Congratulations to the host for leaving the slave registry behind and completely finishing the mission of returning to a proper life!
Rong Xuanhe picked up a pastry and shoved it into his mouth, pausing at the announcement: “Do not use those words.”
Letting it be known once more: he had not actually joined the flesh trade.
Having gone without food for almost a day, he was genuinely starving. One piece was not enough, so he grabbed another, chewing while mumbling indistinctly: “What do I need to do next? Tell me.”
The host has achieved the HE conclusion. Sob, so touching. (Wiping tears with a handkerchief)
The mechanical voice recited these words rigidly, not even omitting the contents inside the parentheses.
“?” Rong Xuanhe was utterly dumbfounded: “This is already a Happy Ending?”
In short dramas, plots spanned at least a hundred episodes minimum; in his case, it was all wrapped up in half a day?
Half-doubting, Rong Xuanhe asked, “You are not tricking me, are you? Since it is a HE, does that mean I do not have to take your orders anymore? Or can you reward me by sending me back?”
The system did not answer. After its formulaic display of emotion, its tone abruptly turned brisk.
Beep-boop, currently applying to transfer the host to a more suitable system. Wishing the host a happy newlyweds experience!
I knew it.
So there was no such thing as a Happy Ending after all!
Rong Xuanhe muttered a silent grievance, his whole body collapsing limply onto the bed. Once he lay down, he did not want to get back up.
His entire body ached, whether from injuries left behind by the original host or bumps and bruises from today, everything felt sore, swollen, and thoroughly uncomfortable.
He lay there with his eyes closed for a moment, remembering that his face was still caked with a thick layer of cosmetics. Dragging himself up like a sleepwalker to look for water, another unfamiliar yet sweet voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
Ding-dong! Congratulations to the host for binding with the Sweet Pet System!
Rong Xuanhe instantly snapped his eyes open: ?
They really just switched systems like that?
He could not help muttering, “No, no, the plot does not go like this! You are supposed to chat with me a lot, build up my trust, occasionally throw me a bone or ease up on the difficulty, then show up during a crisis to help out, and finally congratulate me on completing all tasks and unbinding during the grand finale while I feel deeply reluctant to part with you and beg you to stay with me. Why did you just jump straight into switching bindings with me? The plot does not work this way at all, I reject this!”
That voice seemed to stall for a moment, tripped up by his machine-gun-like interruption, before resuming its self-introduction a few seconds later: Hello dear, I am the Sweet Pet System, here to help make your romantic life even sweeter.
Initial Task: Spend a wonderful night together with your husband.
Rong Xuanhe gasped sharply: “Are you trying to get me killed?”
Who wants to share a bed with that murderous god? Tired of living?
How can you not share a bed during the honeymoon period? Host, hurry up and take action; make sure you do not give your husband the cold shoulder.
Please complete the task on time. When the countdown ends, the host’s body will be forcibly controlled to react.
Not this trick again!
Rong Xuanhe was genuinely terrified of it and tried to reason: “Did not your colleague tell you? I have only known the guy next door for less than half a day. Do you not think me going over there like this looks a lot like stalking or harassment?”
Five, four, three.
The system’s countdown did not stop.
The young man stood frozen for a few seconds before springing up abruptly, moving step by stiff step toward the door.
Rong Xuanhe gritted his teeth: “I will not go.”
He used all his strength to fight the resistance of the system, his eyes filled with defiance as his whole body trembled slightly. Yet, his body disobeyed his will, unlocking the door and striding directly to the doorway of the neighboring room.
There was no sound from next door; they had likely already settled in for the night.
Rong Xuanhe’s heart stirred. Since they were resting, wouldn’t this be the prime time to make a run for it? What if?
Before he could finish the thought, the door suddenly swung open from the inside.
The figure draped in white robes lowered his gaze to look at him, expressionless: “What is it?”
Rong Xuanhe instantly stiffened in tension, blinking those watery eyes of his while shrinking his slender shoulders slightly, looking both frail and pitiful.
He tilted his head up to gaze at Su Wenchuan with a hesitant expression. However, paying no heed to any of that, the system directly took over control of his speech.
In a voice that was soft, light, and carried an unperceived trace of a tremor, the young man spoke: “Husband, I want to spend a wonderful night with you.”
As the words fell, Rong Xuanhe tightly clamped his mouth shut, his face burning bright red.