Sui Sui was “invited” into the carriage on her way back from delivering wine. To call it an invitation was nearly robbery. A carriage blocked the alley, and two burly men stepped down, saying someone “wished to see her.” Though they saluted, they gave her no chance to refuse—flanking her on both sides, practically forcing her inside.
She didn’t even get the chance to ask who it was. Was there no law left? In broad daylight, under heaven’s gaze, they dared abduct a woman—
But wait, she was dressed as a man.
That made it even stranger. Once, she would have been terrified. But after her ordeals with Li Chongjun, she quickly regained composure, racking her brain over who she might have offended.
Could it be Li Chongjun? No, surely not—he should be in Chang’an, feasting and marrying noblewomen, not wasting time frightening her. Could it be the county magistrate’s nephew? But they were far too polite for that.
The carriage rolled from morning till evening. When Sui Sui was finally ushered into the Longxi yamen, into a tall, shadowed hall, she saw Li Chongjun— Ah. So there really were people this bored.
“Your… Your Highness?” Sui Sui was utterly shocked. She had thought she would never see Li Chongjun again. Yet less than half a year later, here they were, reunited in such a bizarre way. He was thinner, dressed in a sharp dark-blue robe, his whole bearing like his calligraphy—hard strokes of iron and gold, fierce and cutting. He sat deep in the lamplight, solemn and austere.
Sui Sui, bewildered, ventured: “Your Highness… where is this place?”
Li Chongjun looked at the document in his hand, ignoring her.
His temper hadn’t changed at all.
She tried again: “Why is Your Highness here?”
Still no answer.
She was about to ask a third question when she noticed, not far away, a man bound hand and foot, gagged, groaning. Sui Sui froze, then looked closer—
It was A Wu!
This time, Sui Sui could no longer stay calm.
A Wu and Li Chongjun—two people with no connection at all—how could this be? She rushed forward, but the guards blocked her.
Sui Sui cried out: “Why has Your Highness captured him? What crime has he committed to be bound like this?”
Li Chongjun finally reacted, tossing the document in his hand onto the desk with a sharp crack, like a magistrate striking the gavel, and began to interrogate her coldly: “The money.”
“…What?”
“The money I gave you.”
Sui Sui cursed herself inwardly—sometimes speaking with Li Chongjun made her feel like a fool. She truly didn’t understand what he meant, so she kept her bewildered look and, after a long pause, tried: “Is Your Highness short of money? I can return it to you—”
“The money I gave you—where did it go?” Li Chongjun’s face darkened. He glanced at trembling A Wu: “On this kind of trash?”
His tone was full of contempt. Rising from his seat, he walked to the window, lifted A Wu’s face with the tip of his boot. Seeing that strikingly beautiful face, his expression grew even worse.
But Sui Sui still didn’t understand: “I spent money on him—what does that have to do with what kind of person he is? He is—”
“Do you know who he is?” Li Chongjun cut her off. “He spent four years in prison.”
Sui Sui immediately grew wary, suspecting it was connected to the case from five years ago. She hesitated, then nodded: “I know.”
Li Chongjun looked as though struck dumb, glaring at her, then staring in surprise for a moment. Suddenly, he lowered his eyes and laughed. It was a complicated laugh—part helplessness, part self-mockery—especially strange in this tense atmosphere. After a while, he said with a smile: “Oh, so it turns out anyone but me will do.”
“…What? Anyone will do?”
Li Chongjun raised his eyes again, now cold and sinister. He ordered loudly for A Wu to be dragged away. Sui Sui, frightened by his expression, cried: “What does Your Highness intend to do!”
He half-smiled, half-sneered: “I want him dead.”
A Wu was the last witness—he could not die. But Sui Sui didn’t know that. She cried out, “No!” and turned to chase after him.
Li Chongjun seized her. Sui Sui struggled desperately, the two grappling together. Confused, she assumed it must be connected to Pagoda Temple, and shouted louder, pleading her case: “If this is about the case five years ago, Your Highness, you cannot kill A Wu—he is innocent, truly innocent!”
But Li Chongjun’s strength grew heavier. Sui Sui quickly lost ground. Just as he was about to overpower her, her heel struck the leg of a plumwood couch, and she fell backward. She grabbed blindly, catching only his belt. Her full weight pulled him down, too. She braced herself for her skull to smash against the corner, closing her eyes in resignation. Yet after the heavy thud, there was no pain—only breathless pressure.
Blinking, she found Li Chongjun’s handsome face suddenly close in her vision.
“Eek—!”
The couch had been knocked far aside. She was pressed against him, flat as a pancake, gasping in shock.
Li Chongjun seemed stunned, his eyes dazed as he looked back at her, lashes trembling. His eyes were long, dark, and deep, carrying a quiet intensity when still.
Sui Sui froze.
At that moment, footsteps sounded beneath the western window. Two servants emerged from behind the curtain, carrying scrolls. Not finding Prince Wei, they looked around—then met Sui Sui’s gaze. Terrified, they dropped to their knees, babbling, “We deserve death,” before fleeing in panic.
“No, wait—you, don’t go—” Pinned under Li Chongjun, Sui Sui was near tears. He seemed jolted awake, then hauled her up and tossed her onto the bed. She scrambled upright, only to be shoved back down. He leaned over her, and she panicked: “This is a misunderstanding! Your Highness, it’s a mistake—you mustn’t abandon yourself to ruin—”
But Li Chongjun, damn him, didn’t remove his own clothes. Instead, he tore open her tunic, pulled down her sash, and bound her hands to the railing.
Sui Sui struggled, head thrown back, and saw a dark bruise on his hand—likely from the fall. She couldn’t help a flicker of smugness. For all his manhood, his skill was no better than hers. Yet in that brief moment, he had tied her hands and blindfolded her with a purple sweatcloth.
“Your Highness, what are you doing—ah!” Sui Sui cried out, feeling sudden warmth at her neck. Blindfolded, the sensation was sharper. His breath, heavy, brushed her ear: “Like this, there’s no difference, is there?”
Then he began biting at her neck, his breath hot and damp, panting like a great hound—though scented faintly of pine and cypress.
Sui Sui’s whole body tingled—not the itch to scratch, but a feverish discomfort. She gave up trying to puzzle out his meaning and declared boldly: “Your Highness, no need for riddles—I understand! You just want to sleep with me, don’t you? Fine! If you spare A Wu, do whatever you like.”