Pain.
Pain!
"Hah!"
Help!
Help!
"Ah!" Ahead, someone was desperately trying to make a sound, collapsing forward, but all that could be seen was a hand with clearly defined bones in the darkness—long, slender fingers, pale complexion, somewhat familiar.
It seemed like the same hand he had seen in that warm, luxurious place of pleasure.
That hand gripped a sharply honed dagger in a strange posture, stabbing with incredible speed and without a moment's hesitation into the skull of the official who had just been saying he was afraid of not being able to sleep at night. The carriage driver who hadn't died was given a finishing blow as well.
The dagger was yanked out abruptly, and like a cleaver chopping vegetables, brain matter and blood gushed forth. The dead man slid off the sedan chair, and the youth's emotionless black eyes turned to the other side.
That official surnamed Zhang's throat had already been slit, blood bubbling out from the wound with a gurgling sound.
His body was rapidly growing cold, the pain becoming more and more pronounced. Secretary Li heard the youth's voice.
He had heard it before.
How could it be him?
How could it possibly be him?
"Even more beautiful than Hangiang."
His voice was naturally soft and gentle, carrying an excessive intimacy that showed no regard for worldly propriety. When Secretary Li had heard it before, he had only felt intense disgust.
"You looked at my Hangiang."
Another sound of a blade piercing flesh and skin—the knife had been driven into Official Zhang's throat.
Secretary Li's vision darkened in waves, as if he could feel his life draining away inch by inch from his body.
Who was Qiu-niang? Why did it have to be him? The thoughts in his mind drifted and scattered, like a rapidly spinning lantern show…
He still had a wife and children at home to support. He had lost his old wife's dowry, causing himself and his wife to be mocked by everyone in the city. He already regretted it—why him? Why? He refused to die. Without him, how would his family survive?
The chaotic, scattered thoughts came to a halt. His hair was grabbed, and the throat that had already been cut open gushed out blood in great torrents.
His dimming vision fixed on the blade clenched tightly in the youth's hand.
The youth, drenched in blood from head to toe, was like a ghost from hell. He said not a single word, his gaze cold and numb, gripping the dagger like a butcher slaughtering a pig, the tip of the blade suddenly drilling into Secretary Li's forehead.
Like a sudden natural disaster, utterly devoid of emotion.
Inside the Jinling Military Patrol Office, Guan Fei was practicing martial arts in the woods.
He had swung his spear no fewer than several thousand times, yet he still couldn't make his speed faster—fast enough to draw blood and kill in one strike. Guan Fei was drenched in sweat, and just as he was about to begin the next set, an unusual sound came from the woods across from him, like an odd wind rustling through bamboo leaves.
To an ordinary person, the sound would seem like nothing more than a normal breeze, but Guan Fei stopped his practice, faced the woods across from him, planted his spear on the ground, then raised it high, the spear tip pointing directly at the opposite side, imposing and mighty.
"Who's there!"
Someone from within the woods strolled slowly closer.
The newcomer was covered in blood, emerging from the woods like an asura from hell. The blood had dried, caked onto his face, yet he still maintained a friendly smile, waving his hand in an extremely courteous and polite manner.
"Commander, it's me. No need for violence."
For a moment, Guan Fei couldn't even recognize him.
But as soon as the voice came out, Guan Fei relaxed all his martial tension. He stepped forward a few paces and saluted: "You've worked hard, sir. Is Marquis Zheng Ting dead? Did you obtain any leads?"
"No. I'm not good at extracting information through conversation, so I killed the other three. I'll go again after their funerals to investigate this imperial examination case."
"You killed three people?"
There was no need to ask—they must have been among those closest to Marquis Zheng Ting. "But with them dead, won't Marquis Zheng Ting be scared out of his wits and dare not come?"
"Then I'll go kill the Marquis myself."
It was only then that Guan Fei noticed he was holding a short blade in one hand and a dagger in the other—both weapons suited for soldiers of his build: not very tall, light of body, and lacking great strength. Bujing Nu could only wield weapons like these.
Bujing Nu: "Though there may be fish that slip through the net, they won't dare act rashly in the future."
"The Emperor is probably afraid of delays and complications," Guan Fei spoke his true thoughts to him. "The Emperor is not what he used to be. He can't sleep at night these days because, as he grows older, he has become more fearful of the princes and the officials—"
"The Emperor has no need to fear. As long as I am here, I will protect His Majesty from any harm. If you dare speak disrespectfully of His Majesty again, I will cut out your tongue."
His tone had never been so cold. The blade in his hand had already angled toward Guan Fei, who instantly tensed up, a chill of dread running down his spine.
The Emperor had indeed become extremely paranoid. He was old, growing senile and suspicious—that was a fact. The recent defeat in battle against the Mongols had been a heavy loss. Not only had they ceded cities and territory, but they had also sent two princesses to marry the Mongol king and prince.
At the time, Bujing Nu—a young warrior fully capable of going to the battlefield and holding his own against a hundred—had been right by his side, yet no matter what, the Emperor refused to reveal Bujing Nu before others.
Guan Fei couldn't understand it either.
But he knew that Bujing Nu had no ordinary human emotions. From childhood, his only command had been to protect the Emperor, and he had likely come to regard it as his divine mandate.
The Emperor is now advanced in years, and without Bujing Nu, he cannot even rest peacefully in his own bedchamber. It seems that the Second Prince's rebellion frightened the Emperor so greatly that he gave Bujing Nu to Prince Beikang.
But now, all the unsavory affairs of the capital, great and small, are still delivered from the palace to Guan Fei, who then passes them on to Bujing Nu to handle.
The Emperor cannot trust anyone else. His greatest trust lies in Bujing Nu, the two old eunuchs in the palace, and a scattering of two or three officials.
Yet because the officials have minds of their own, and the old eunuchs have wives and children outside the palace, understanding worldly ways and the proper conduct of men, the bond between ruler and subjects has gradually grown distant.
Only Bujing Nu—utterly loyal, ignorant of worldly propriety, knowing nothing of how to be a man—can be called the most useful mad dog.
"Forgive me, my lord, but I have some concerns."
The youth, drenched in blood, had cold, piercing eyes. "This case requires your cooperation, my lord. I am not skilled at winning people over."
At this mention, Guan Fei felt somewhat awkward.
"Naturally. But I do not think you lack skill in that regard, my lord. At the banquet, Marquis Zheng Ting took such a liking to you. The sacrifice you made was considerable—I truly admire it."
Bujing Nu didn't even understand. "I don't know why the Marquis was so agreeable either. Enough of that—remember to write to His Majesty about this. I'm going to bathe. Where can I bathe here?"
"Bathe?"
"Yes. I also need bath beans."
"This… the bathhouse at the Military Patrol Office has fallen into disuse. To stay alert, we usually bathe in the river." Guan Fei pointed to the river on the right.
"Then I'll go to the river too. Remember to bring bath beans, my lord—scented ones. And I want new clothes."
Scented…
Why scented…
Guan Fei turned around. The blood-soaked youth had already gone back into the woods, heading toward the river.
[Ding-dong! The Better-Looking System is online. Please accept your mission, host: lick*. The system has automatically accepted the mission for you. Mission difficulty: High. Time limit: within seven days. Required duration: one cup of tea. Mission requirement: must be performed while conscious.]
Xia Ji: ?
She couldn't even believe that word had wormed its way into her ears. Her face was burning.
[What did you say?]
[Chest.]
Xia Ji: ?
[Whose chest licks whose?]
[Either works, dear.]
Xia Ji had just returned and sat on her familiar couch for barely a moment, still waiting for Bujing Nu to come back, and now she was completely dumbfounded.
Because of this new mission, she paced around the room, restless and agitated.
What kind of mission was this?
She looked down. She had changed back into her usual clothes, and the fabric across her chest was a little tight, making it look even fuller. This made her face burn as she raised a hand to cover her chest.
She tried to argue her case: [This mission of yours is unreasonable. Logically speaking, it should start with a kiss first…]
Though even kissing was something she dared not think about. But licking… licking… the difficulty was too great. She had never even experienced matters of the heart herself. How could she do it? How? Just thinking about it made Xia Ji's heart race wildly.
[Didn't you say before that I could choose my missions? What are the other missions?]
[Host, since the system has already accepted the mission on your behalf by default, the mission cannot be changed.]
[You—!]
Xia Ji angrily shut down her communication with the system, feeling like she'd been swindled by some shady company.
She paced around the room several times. She was already exhausted from the day's running around, and with this shock on top of it, she soon lost the energy to pace. She lay back on the couch, her mind a complete mess.
So this was how big things were getting already.
What would come next?
Bujing Nu clearly had no inkling of such matters. And she had gotten close to him—when she kissed his cheek, he thought she was hungry and warned her that if she dared eat him again, he'd kill her. Truly terrifying.
Xia Ji: …
And was it necessary? To specifically remind her that it had to be done while conscious? Were they afraid she'd knock Bujing Nu out and force the mission through?
They overestimated her! Where would she get that kind of ability?
But… then how was she supposed to complete it?
This was the first high-difficulty mission. Completing it would grant her a large amount of Luck Value. She would definitely become much more fortunate, and she wouldn't have to live in constant fear anymore.
But she truly had no idea how to complete it.
Anxious and flustered… Xia Ji turned over.
What kind of ridiculous mission…
Bullying people!
Bullying an honest office worker! Bullying people! All she did every day was go to work, come home, watch anime, watch dramas, read novels! The only relationship she'd ever had was a trivial fling back in school.
Lick… lick! She really had no idea how to do this.
Xia Ji was weighed down with worries, but no matter what, she still had to pull herself together and face it—just like when she worked late, she had to sleep quickly so she could go to work again the next day.
She had always been a good employee, even if she couldn't help complaining.
She needed to sleep well. Fall asleep, and when she woke up tomorrow, she'd figure out what to do. That was how everything worked.
Holding onto this conviction, Xia Ji forced herself to fall asleep. In the past, she hadn't been able to sleep this early, but since coming to the ancient times, this body seemed to have grown accustomed to retiring early.
When the time came, drowsiness set in. She hadn't even changed out of her clothes, lying down fully dressed to sleep.
At the outer corridor of the estate, a lantern had been lit.
Shanu had lit it, on Bujing Nu's orders—if anyone returned late, the corridor was to have a light burning.
A youth in coarse-woven cloth garments climbed the steps, somewhat weary. The vast estate stood empty of any soul. He paused at the doorway, peering inside, his footsteps faltering slightly.
Instinctively, he wanted to turn back, to return to the pile of corpses and stay there.
But in the distance, he saw a dim, faint light—across the way, a lantern hanging in the courtyard where Xia Ji resided.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, Bujing Nu walked toward the direction of Xia Ji's dwelling. He kicked open the door, the sound neither loud nor soft. Inside, the woman lay sleeping on the couch, her breaths slow and long.
She was sleeping soundly.
Even as Bujing Nu sat down beside her, wrapped his arms around both of hers, and then lowered himself to press against her body, she didn't wake. Only her delicate brows furrowed slightly, her lips parting a little, showing clear discomfort.
In the dim darkness, Bujing Nu's pitch-black eyes stared fixedly at her. His whole body was cold, his fingertips icy as he reached into her mouth. The warm softness stained his skin.
He liked it very much.
"Hangiang."
Bujing Nu lay down, pressing against her, his hand resting on her exposed chest.
Everything was so cold.
His mouth was cold, his hands were cold, his body, his blood—all cold.
He wanted to be warmed.
From the first moment he saw her, a strange, unfamiliar thought had taken root.
He lowered his head, licking at the woman's warm softness, wanting to bite. A bizarre emotion made him want to burrow into her flesh, to melt together with her.