The low, gravelly voice, heavy with the threat of death, echoed through the quiet wedding chamber.
Shen Yu gulped hard, her Adam’s apple bobbing and even grazing the icy edge of the blade. She didn’t dare look at Chu Xiao’s murderous eyes. Driven by the dual instincts of paralyzing terror and her lifelong identity as a “die-hard foodie,” her gaze uncontrollably drifted toward the table.
There, sitting on a plate, was a piece of red bean cake—brightly colored and delicately crafted.
Chu Xiao followed her line of sight, assuming she was eyeing the burning dragon-and-phoenix candles or perhaps a secret rescue signal hidden at the corner of the table.
“Speak,” Chu Xiao said, his voice as cold as ice shards. His killing intent had not receded; the sharp edge of the dagger felt as though it could slice her throat at any moment.
Shen Yu, trembling like a frightened quail, squeezed her eyes shut and blurted out, “I—I wasn’t looking at your legs…”
While she appeared to be shivering in terror, internally, she was screaming with the force of ten thousand horses.
(Waaaah! That red bean cake looks way too delicious!])(The skin is translucent and glistening, and the red bean paste inside is so vibrant—it’s clearly a premium, soft, and sweet masterpiece!) (Forget it! I absolutely refuse to be a starving ghost before I die! This is the final bottom line and dignity of a foodie!)
Chu Xiao’s brow knitted into a tight knot. He even doubted his own hearing, or wondered if this bizarre “System” was malfunctioning. What did this woman just say? She wasn’t looking at his legs, she was looking at… red bean cake?!
His cold, ruthless murderous aura was actually losing out to a plate of cold dessert?!
Veins bulged on the back of the hand holding the dagger. Just as he was about to interrogate her harshly to see if this was some new trick from the Marquis’s estate, Shen Yu suddenly moved.
Whether it was a sudden surge of adrenaline or the total awakening of her “foodie soul,” Shen Yu ignored the black iron dagger capable of slicing through metal. She raised her hands—still bound by hemp rope—and shoved blindly against the wrist holding the blade.
Clatter!
Chu Xiao had never expected such a move. To avoid accidentally slicing her carotid artery, he instinctively pulled back his internal power as she lunged, his wrist shifting outward.
The sharp blade grazed the hemp rope binding her wrists. With a crisp “snip,” the rough rope, which had been tied securely, was sliced clean through by the razor-sharp dagger!
Shen Yu was free, but she didn’t care about the red welts on her wrists, nor did she realize that Chu Xiao had intentionally pulled his punch. Like a tiny projectile, she scrambled over the wheelchair and dove toward the rosewood table.
“My red bean cake! I’m coming!”
(Even if this is my ‘last meal’ before the execution, I’m going to eat my fill! A well-fed ghost runs faster in the afterlife!)
Chu Xiao remained in his defensive posture, the dagger held back, frozen in place. He watched, stunned, as the spy who had been trembling and ready to lose her head a second ago now sprawled ungracefully over the table, grabbing pieces of cake with both hands and shoving them into her mouth.
“Mmm… delicious! So delicious!”
Shen Yu’s cheeks were bulging, making her look like a hamster frantically hoarding grain.
(Wow! This red bean cake is incredible! It melts in your mouth, sweet but not cloying! It’s ten thousand times better than the viral cakes I used to wait two hours in line for back in my modern life!)(There’s even a thin layer of flaky pastry inside. This texture, this craftsmanship! The chefs in the Imperial Kitchen couldn’t do better than this!) (As expected of the Ninth Prince’s mansion—the food standards are top-tier! Even if I get decapitated after this meal, it’s worth it!)
Shen Yu mentally gave it a rave review while getting crumbs all over her face. Because she was eating so quickly, she choked for a second, rolling her eyes. She unceremoniously grabbed the wedding wine flagon—not even bothering with a cup—and took two big gulps straight from the spout.
(Refreshing! Even the wine is this good, with a faint scent of sweet osmanthus, and it doesn’t burn the throat at all )(Those heartless people at the Marquis’s estate fed me slop every day. Today, I finally got to eat something decent!)(If this came with a side of iced pearl milk tea, this would be the peak of my life!)
Shen Yu was so lost in her eating that she completely cast the living Yama King behind her into the back of her mind.
Chu Xiao sat in his wheelchair, his deep, dark eyes swirling with complex emotions. His expression shifted from shock and absurdity to a profound silence. The atmosphere in the room, which had been a life-or-death battleground, had been forcibly transformed by Shen Yu’s smacking and chewing into a ridiculous, tension-free “mukbang” livestream.
Chu Xiao stared at that frantically devouring back, and the murderous intent that had once been thick enough to drown in receded like the tide. Replacing it was an indescribable sense of helplessness and a massive headache.
From which backwater mountain village did the Marquis of Dingguo’s estate find such a bizarre woman?
A spy? An assassin?
What well-trained spy would expose her back to an enemy’s blade without any defense? What cunning assassin would, at the moment of life and death, abandon her life for a plate of cheap red bean cake?
She is clearly just a simple-minded glutton who understands nothing but food!
Chu Xiao watched her cheeks rhythmically moving like a hamster’s, and the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily. He had actually felt such intense murderous intent toward a moron like this. He had even almost revealed the secret of his faked disability because of her inner thoughts. It was utterly absurd—the joke of the century.
Chu Xiao had a slight obsession with cleanliness. Seeing her oil-stained, crumb-covered fingers reaching for another piece of cake, he frowned deeply. Yet, he didn’t stop her, silently acquiescing to her feast in his wedding chamber.
Chu Xiao slowly lowered his hand, retracting the blood-stained black iron dagger into his sleeve. He said nothing, simply watching Shen Yu mop up the food on the table.
His mansion, though seen by others as an ominous “Palace of Hell,” was quite simple in its daily operations because he disliked luxury. That plate of red bean cake was merely something the kitchen had prepared per standard protocol for the wedding rituals. In this woman’s mind, it had become a rare, world-class delicacy?
She is, after all, of the Marquis’s bloodline… wait, no, rumor has it there is a neglected Second Miss raised in the countryside. Could it be this glutton who would trade her life for a bite to eat?
Chu Xiao’s gaze grew contemplative. If she truly was a useless fool, then what was that strange “System” in her mind? That entity which could accurately report that his legs were perfectly fine and even scan his muscle condition was no ordinary object.
Though she appeared as dim-witted as a pig on the surface, the secrets she hid sparked Chu Xiao’s curiosity. He decided to spare her life for now. Keeping her under his nose to observe her was better than a quick kill. Moreover, he had heard a sliver of long-forgotten “vitality” in her inner thoughts.
In this capital city filled with schemes and treachery, under the surveillance of that suspicious old Emperor, this simple-minded, unmasked longing for food was actually quite rare.
Time ticked by. Shen Yu finally shoved the last piece of cake into her mouth, even licking the crumbs from her fingers with lingering affection. She had eaten this “last meal” with complete satisfaction.
She let out a long sigh, patting her rounded little tummy in contentment. Because she had eaten too fast, combined with the slight kick of the osmanthus wine, she couldn’t help but let out a loud, resonant burp.
“Burp—”
The sound was exceptionally crisp and loud in the deathly quiet room, and it even echoed.
Shen Yu’s body stiffened. Finally, she remembered her situation. Oh no, I was too busy eating and forgot there’s a god of slaughter behind me!
She turned her neck like a rusty puppet, one agonizing inch at a time. Chu Xiao was still sitting in his wheelchair, looking at her with a gaze so complex it was indescribable. There was no sharpness or murderous intent left in his eyes; instead, there was a touch of… helpless resignation, as if looking at an idiot.
Shen Yu felt a chill run down her spine, and a layer of cold sweat broke out on her back. She timidly pulled her head back, her mouth still covered in red bean cake crumbs. Her clear, large eyes blinked innocently like a guilty animal, testing the waters with a look of desperate resignation.
“Your Highness…” Shen Yu gulped, her voice as thin as a mosquito’s, stuttering, “Are… are you still going to kill me?”
Chu Xiao looked at her—looking so naturally cowardly, yet strangely hilarious. He snorted coldly, his gaze sweeping over the residue at the corner of her mouth.
Then, he uttered a sentence that left the shadow guards hiding in the rafters outside the door so shocked that they nearly fell from the beams.