Volume 1 Сhарtеr 22: Таking Your Воnеs Оut to Mаke a Bonе Нairрin, Wеаring It in Му Hаir Еvеry Daу
In thе blink of аn eye, it wаs the fifth dаy of Yun Jiaо’s deеp slumbеr.
Хie An hаd finally found thе mоthеr gu, аnd the child gu insidе Yun Jiао’s bоdy had аlso bеen remоved by him with mеdicine.
Нis little deer wаs gоing tо wakе uр today.
Yаn Shi curlеd thе cornеrs of his lips in аn eхсеllent mоod. Hе could finаllу sеttle accounts with her proреrly.
Warm steam fillеd thе room.
Hе рicked up a cloth, soaked it in hot water, and with a firm twist of his powerful hand, hot water trickled down between his fingers.
His fingertips tightened on Yun Jiao’s blanket, his lips pressed into a straight line as he hesitated for two seconds.
His Adam’s apple bobbed once before he slowly pulled it back.
In just a few days, he had already personally wiped her down many times. For convenience, he hadn’t dressed her.
Mainly because she was truly delicate—she insisted on wearing that undershirt even though it was too small, which ended up leaving a red mark from being tightly bound.
As the blanket was gradually pulled back, Yan Shi’s breath hitched for a moment, and a strange restlessness surged through his body.
The red mark left by the undershirt below her chest seemed still before his eyes. Yan Shi took a deep breath, forcing himself not to look at that softness.
The skin on her body was a shade fairer than her face, like a peeled egg—tender, delicate, and soft.
His breathing unconsciously grew hot. Yan Shi used the cloth to wipe every inch of her skin, his touch very, very gentle.
He was like someone observing a masterpiece, his gaze following his moving fingertips, growing more feverish the further down he went.
The first time, he had even gotten a nosebleed.
But even after many times, his heart would still race, his breathing would quicken, and his gaze would uncontrollably claim every inch of her until his throat grew dry.
Occasionally, when his fingertips accidentally brushed against her, his heart would tremble, his eyelashes fluttering with an indescribable, mysterious pleasure.
He patiently wiped her down once more before pulling the blanket back up, covering the captivating sight.
After finishing all this, he let out a heavy sigh of relief, but that restless agitation hadn’t improved much.
He glanced down at his own peculiar state and frowned.
Had his poison worsened again?
Yan Shi pulled out a wooden box from his sleeve. Inside was an exquisitely crafted chain, each link wrapped in an extremely soft layer of silk.
He raised his hand and caressed Yun Jiao’s face with infatuation, as if touching a treasure, murmuring to himself, “I originally wanted to plant the mother gu in my body so you could always be obedient.”
“You really are not obedient.”
“This Prince is somewhat troubled—how can I make you obedient enough to stay by my side?”
As if thinking of something, Yan Shi chuckled softly. “But This Prince has already thought of a way.”
“Don’t you like hairpins? This Prince originally considered taking your bones out to make a bone hairpin and wearing it in my hair every day. How does that sound?”
“But you’re afraid of pain, so you definitely wouldn’t agree.”
As he spoke, he flicked his fingers and picked up the small chain, wrapping one end around Yun Jiao’s wrist and the other around the head of the bed.
“I originally wanted to make you a beaded hairpin, but This Prince thinks a chain is better at keeping you restrained.”
“Each link is wrapped in silk, so you don’t have to worry about it hurting.”
Yan Shi’s voice was like a gentle melody rising from a murmuring stream, soft and unhurried.
His slender fingers covered Yun Jiao’s small hand, squeezing between her fingers in a possessive gesture, tightly interlocking with hers.
Yun Jiao, who had been sleeping peacefully, suddenly furrowed her brows, her sleep growing restless.Her eyelids felt heavy, and she struggled to open her eyes, her vision blurring for a moment.
In the next instant, she found herself standing inside the Hall of Mental Cultivation.
But wasn’t she supposed to be waiting for Yan Shi outside the hall?
“Your Majesty, the Sixth Prince has arrived,” a voice came from behind her.
Yun Jiao turned around, her pupils contracting sharply.
Two eunuchs were dragging a child into the hall, his thin legs trailing limply on the ground. The child’s head hung low, but Yun Jiao could still see clearly—it was Yan Shi.
Yan Shi passed straight through her body as he was dragged into the center of the hall.
“What’s going on?” she murmured, utterly bewildered. “Is this the Prince as a child?”
“My son,” a middle-aged man seated on the high throne spoke. Dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe, he held a whip in his hand, looking down at the young Yan Shi with an air of superiority.
“My son, why do you not kneel and pay your respects to your father?”
A sharp crack echoed through the air.
The sound of the whip tearing through the air.
Yun Jiao trembled in fright.
“My son, pay your respects and greet your emperor,” the Emperor commanded, his authority palpable even without anger.
Little Yan Shi lay sprawled on the ground, his clothes loose and ill-fitting, looking as though they had been worn many times—a faded, grayish-white garment.
For some reason, Yun Jiao’s heart suddenly seized with a sharp pain, as if pierced by thousands of needles.
Little Yan Shi strained to lift his head, gazing toward the window. His dry, cracked lips slowly parted, emitting a faint “meow.”
Then, he curled his lips slightly, letting out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh.
The Emperor suddenly erupted in rage, swinging the whip toward him. It cut through the air in an arc before striking Little Yan Shi’s frail back with a vicious crack.
The fabric of his clothes instantly tore open, revealing raw flesh beneath.
Blood quickly soaked through the fabric, spreading in a crimson stain until his entire back was covered in a shocking, glaring red.
How could it become so severe in just one strike?
“Prince!” Yun Jiao’s eyes reddened with fear.
Without a second thought, she rushed over, instinctively hovering protectively over him.
Only when she drew closer did she notice the crisscrossing whip marks covering his small back—some large, some small, some healed, some fresh—so numerous she couldn’t make sense of them.
Then came the second whip, the third…
Each strike passed through Yun Jiao, landing squarely on Little Yan Shi’s body.
With every blow, the small figure beneath her trembled.
Her heart ached, so terribly.
Yun Jiao’s tears fell in large drops before they could even gather, and she clung tightly to Little Yan Shi.
“Prince, you have to get away!”
“Please, pay your respects, please…”
With a whistling sound, the whip struck Little Yan Shi’s earlobe, drawing blood instantly.
Yun Jiao sobbed uncontrollably, her cries filled with despair and helplessness.
The sound of the whip and the Emperor’s furious shouts echoed through the hall. After what felt like an eternity, eunuchs finally entered, silently dragging Little Yan Shi away.
Yun Jiao staggered to her feet, not bothering to wipe her tears, and hurriedly followed behind him.
Little Yan Shi was dragged along the way, leaving scattered drops of blood trailing on the ground.
After a long walk, he was dragged into a desolate, secluded courtyard within the Jin Cui Palace. He was thrown to the ground like discarded trash, and the eunuchs left as if fleeing a plague.
Yun Jiao continued to sob, wiping the blood splattered on his face with her sleeve as she cried.
“Aren’t you supposed to be fierce? Why didn’t you know how to hide?”
Even though she couldn’t touch him, she kept wiping his face with her sleeve.
Yan Shi lay on the ground, staring at the doorway, and let out another soft “meow.”
A figure stood in the center of the doorway, a plump white cat rubbing affectionately against the shadow’s leg, purring and seeking attention.Yun Jiao looked up, her mind suddenly flashing with memories of rainy nights in the small palace courtyard.
It was Yan Cheng!
She trembled in fear, but only for a moment before spreading her arms to shield little Yan Shi behind her.
Little Yan Shi’s eyes shifted slightly. Slowly, very slowly, he reached out a hand and whispered weakly, “Little cat, come here.”