“Are you saying Ji Lingfeng brought my wife to a place like this?” Ji Yanche stood tall before the tavern, raising his eyes to gaze at the signboard that read “Shengge Brew.” Beneath the night sky, his expression was murky and obscure.
Dushun, standing close beside him, couldn’t help trembling slightly as he respectfully reported, “Replying to Your Highness, the accompanying guard reported back that they went inside…”
Ji Yanche rubbed the space between his brows, and just as he was about to step forward and enter the tavern, he caught sight of the guard assigned in secret to protect Meng Qing and Ji Lingfeng running toward them with a frantic expression. A chill gripped his heart.
“Y-Your Highness, it’s terrible.” The guard panted heavily, his voice carrying a trace of trembling.
“At the time, this subordinate saw that waiter acting suspiciously as he brought the Prince’s Consort out, so I immediately followed and knocked him unconscious. Only, the Prince’s Consort… the Prince’s Consort has…” When the guard reached this point, he suddenly began to stammer and hesitate.
“Speak,” Ji Yanche said, his voice deep and laden with an unquestionable authority.
“The Prince’s Consort has been drugged specifically, with an aphrodisiac.” The moment those words fell, the guard wished desperately that he could find a crack in the ground to crawl into. He swore to himself that he really hadn’t seen anything he shouldn’t have; he had simply rushed over to take a quick pulse, confirmed it was an aphrodisiac, and hurriedly found a room to settle him in, posting two guards tightly outside the door before galloping off without stopping to report back.
Ji Yanche’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt, and he instantly accelerated his pace.
Pushing open the door, he saw Meng Qing lying flat on the floor, the front of his robe pulled open to reveal smooth, tender, snow-white shoulders. His hair was in disarray, his complexion flushed rosy like a sunset, and his hazy eyes were half-closed as he panted softly—a sight so utterly pitiful and endearing.
“Qingqing.”
Ji Yanche called out softly, his voice overflowing with warmth and concern. He stepped forward, pulled Meng Qing’s outer robe around him, carefully scooped him up into his arms, and asked in a low voice:
“How do you feel?”
Dazed and half-conscious, Meng Qing was driven nearly mad by the torment, feeling as though a raging fire was burning fiercely within his body, scorching him with unbearable heat. Instinctively, he wanted to loosen his garments to relieve this intense warmth, but his hands felt weak and boneless; missing his footing, he tumbled down from the bed instead. In his daze, he caught the familiar, refreshing scent of bitter medicinal herbs, and the next moment, he fell into a cool, familiar embrace.
So comfortable. Like a drowning man grasping a straw of hope, Meng Qing tightly clutched Ji Yanche’s sleeve, refusing to let go no matter what.
“Husband, I feel so miserable. Please help me.” His body craved release yet received no satisfaction, his eye rims turning red as Meng Qing looked on the verge of crying from desperation.
Ji Yanche carried Meng Qing back to the bed and coaxed him gently, “Be a good boy, Qingqing, your husband will help you right now.”
He slowly leaned down, covering those moistened lips while his hands continued moving without pause, gently peeling away Meng Qing’s garments piece by piece. His fingers trailed slowly across smooth, delicate skin, his movements tender yet lingering, as though soothing a restless, turbulent heart.
“Mmh…”
Meng Qing felt as though he were immersed in a cool, crystal-clear stream; the water wrapped warmly around him and soaked into his pores, feeling so wonderful that it coaxed soft, sweet whimpers from his lips.
The corners of Ji Yanche’s mouth curved slightly upward, his eyes brimming with boundless tenderness. He raised a hand to stroke the flushed cheeks of the person beneath him, then leaned down to press a kiss upon them.
“So adorable.” He murmured softly.
Afterward, Meng Qing fell into a deep sleep while Ji Yanche tenderly cleaned his body for him.
Looking at Meng Qing’s well-behaved sleeping face and the red marks scattered across his fair, delicate skin, Ji Yanche felt his heart swell with deep satisfaction, much like someone admiring a work of art. His gaze drifted to those lips, kissed to a vibrant, swollen crimson, and his throat bobbed involuntarily as he leaned down on an impulse to kiss them once again.
He felt as though Meng Qing had cast a spell on him; otherwise, how could he find himself so thoroughly addicted?
The water droplets beneath the eaves gradually froze into icicles, and the late autumn night carried a heavy, piercing chill.
Ji Yanche draped a dark raven-colored cloak over his shoulders. Gone was the tenderness he had shown Meng Qing inside the room; enveloped in the night’s embrace, he appeared all the more stern and cold, resembling a glacier that had remained unthawed for a thousand years.
“Has the Prince’s Consort fallen asleep?” Dushun asked. He had been waiting outside the entire time and naturally knew everything that had transpired within the room. A wave of quiet jubilation surged in his heart, though he kept his expression perfectly neutral: They had finally consummated their marriage! From now on, Meng Qing was truly and officially the master of the Prince Ning’s Manor!
“Mhm.” Only when mentioning Meng Qing did Ji Yanche reveal a trace of tenderness. “Once the Consort wakes up tomorrow, first have a physician come examine his health, and prepare some light dishes. After confirming everything is fine, escort him back to the manor. Be sure to serve him well.”
“Understood, this old servant obeys,” Dushun replied hastily, committing every instruction to memory.
“And Little Wu?” Ji Yanche asked next.
“The Fifth Prince was given a sleeping sedative; he is out of danger and still sleeping,” Dushun answered truthfully, then added immediately, “The culprits have been captured. Would Your Highness like to go take a look?”
Ji Yanche gave a slight nod, signaling for Dushun to lead the way.
“Good sir, let’s talk this over nicely. This humble woman is just a tavern proprietress, I haven’t broken any laws!” The tavern proprietress felt a creeping sense of unease, realizing she might have provoked someone she truly shouldn’t have crossed.
“Let me go! Do you know who I am? I’ll have my dad arrest the lot of you and beat you to—” Before Zhao Tianbao could finish speaking, a guard delivered a brutal kick to his midsection, sending him howling in agonizing pain.
“Shut your mouths, be quiet.” Chenbi commanded in a stern voice.
The tavern proprietress, Zhao Tianbao, and the waiter who had administered the drug were all securely bound in place by Chenbi.
“Your Highness, these are the culprits responsible,” Chenbi stepped forward and reported respectfully.
Ji Yanche lowered his gaze to look down at them, his eyes chillingly cold, as though gazing upon a group of the dead.
Upon hearing the terms “Prince’s Consort” and “Fifth Prince,” the proprietress’s face instantly drained of color, turning as white as paper. She recalled those two extraordinarily poised young men, never in her wildest dreams imagining that their identities would be so astonishingly noble. Had she known beforehand, even if you gave her ten thousand strands of courage, she would never have dared to pull such a stunt!
“Your Highness, Your Highness, have mercy! This humble commoner truly knew nothing of this! It was all Zhao Tianbao who made me do this; I, I was forced!” She scrambled on hands and knees to crawl toward Ji Yanche’s feet, but before she could brush even the hem of his robe, Chenbi hauled her ruthlessly back.
Zhao Tianbao beside her was equally dumbfounded. How could those two men wearing seemingly ordinary clothes possibly be members of the imperial family? Hearing the proprietress shift the blame, anger surged instantly within him. “You stinking bitch, how dare you frame me! It was clearly you who drugged them!” He turned back to Ji Yanche, his layers of fat quivering with sheer terror. “Your Highness, please do not listen to this poisonous woman’s words!”
“You fat pig, how dare you still talk back to this old lady!” The proprietress refused to show weakness and snapped right back.
Watching their ugly spectacle of dogs biting dogs and tearing off each other’s masks, Ji Yanche suddenly felt thoroughly disgusted, thinking to himself that he’d much rather be back in the room sleeping with Qingqing.
“Chenbi.”
“This subordinate is here.”
“Send them to the Patrol Office and let our men ‘interrogate them thoroughly.'” Ji Yanche adjusted his cloak and added, “And have Chen Ping investigate that gambling den owner. This King wants to see just what kind of backing allows someone to run amok in the capital with such impunity.”
Chen Ping was the head of the Patrol Office, a man of uncompromising integrity and iron-fisted impartiality. Entrusting this case to him gave Ji Yanche complete peace of mind.
Hearing this, Zhao Tianbao collapsed limply onto the ground, despair flooding his heart: It was over, everything was over; he had ruined his entire family.
“Your Highness, Your Highness, have mercy, Your Highness!” Zhao Tianbao wept and wailed, tears and snot streaming all over the floor in a pathetic, wretched display.
Ji Yanche frowned slightly, showing clear revulsion. “Tch, so noisy. I’m afraid it might disturb Qingqing’s rest.”
Leaving behind those light, effortless words, he turned and walked away.
Behind him, Chenbi caught the unspoken hint. With a flash of his hand, he executed a clean, crisp stroke and severed Zhao Tianbao’s tongue, moving with a speed that left everyone too stunned to react.
Mouth full of blood, Zhao Tianbao’s vision went completely black, and he fainted on the spot.
Upon witnessing this scene, the tavern proprietress felt her breathing stop entirely. Frozen with terror, she forgot even how to blink, desperately clamping her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming out.
Returning to the room, Ji Yanche quickly tidied himself up before stepping lightly onto the bed to pull Meng Qing into his embrace.
Meng Qing appeared to be trapped in a nightmare, his body curled tightly into a ball, brows locked in a deep frown with a tear track still staining his cheek.
Ji Yanche raised a hand and caught that falling droplet of tears.
In an instant, a dull ache pierced straight through his heart.
He pulled Meng Qing closer against him, gently patting his back and soothing him with tender comfort.
“Don’t be afraid, Qingqing, I’m here.”
For a long while, Meng Qing’s body gradually relaxed, and he drifted into a peaceful, secure sleep within Ji Yanche’s arms.