Song Boxue looked at Jiang Fanyin expressionlessly and said flatly, “A mere verbal marriage contract is no reason for Miss Jiang to wrong herself. You know my true identity, so you should understand what must be done.”
Jiang Fanyin was silent for a moment before asking, “I do not understand. I promised Auntie Song that I would fulfill the contract, and I promised you that I would help you. I never go back on my word.”
She did not find the idea of marrying Song Boxue repellant; in fact, she was willing to help this person maintain her cover.
Song Boxue sneered inwardly, her words becoming even more blunt. “There is no need. This official does not force others into difficult positions, nor do I like owing favors.”
Otherwise, what would she become if Jiang Fanyin eventually met someone she truly loved or ended up with the male lead? An ex-husband?
“I am not being forced.” Hearing Song Boxue’s words, Jiang Fanyin felt an inexplicable pang of distress, though she couldn’t quite describe her own feelings. However, she was certain she felt no reluctance, so “forcing” was out of the question.
This time, Song Boxue let out an audible cold laugh. She stepped closer to Jiang Fanyin until there was barely a fist’s width of space between them.
Jiang Fanyin instinctively wanted to retreat, but Song Boxue caught her by the arms. Leaning in close to her ear, Song Boxue whispered, “Does Sister Jiang know what she is saying? If you cannot commit from beginning to end, it is best not to give someone hope. Otherwise, this official might not have the kindness to step aside and let you be happy when the time comes.”
Though the words were as low as a murmur, accompanied by warm breath against the shell of her ear, they sounded like a devil’s curse—full of threat, danger, and a strange allure.
Jiang Fanyin tilted her head slightly and whispered, “I do not understand what you mean.”
From beginning to end? Hope? Kindness to step aside?
Song Boxue’s lip twitched. She straightened Jiang Fanyin’s face so they were eye-to-eye. “I am saying that if you marry me, and you later meet some ‘better match,’ do not expect me to grant you a peaceful divorce. This official will only give you a letter of repudiation and make you a discarded woman. Do you still want to marry me then?”
Jiang Fanyin froze, losing her reaction for a moment as she stared blankly at the person inches away. She thought she heard a sound—like a long-sealed box of fireworks suddenly being ignited, blooming across the sky and deep within her heart.
Song Boxue stared unblinkingly at Jiang Fanyin. Silence stretched between them. She suddenly recalled something she had read: Sometimes silence is the answer, and avoidance is the truth.
Looking at the silent Jiang Fanyin, Song Boxue took two steps back and said coolly, “How dull. This official has official business to attend to. Miss Jiang, please suit yourself.”
The emotionless voice, paired with her distant expression, was a blatant dismissal of her guest.
“Very well. You go ahead with your work,” Jiang Fanyin nodded gloomily. Her heart was in disarray. While Song Boxue’s words were somewhat heartless, they were also a sobering reality.
If they married and one of them met a better match later, would divorce be the only option? Or would it be repudiation, Jiang Fanyin felt utterly bewildered; these were things she had never considered.
Seeing Jiang Fanyin return to the rear quarters, Song Boxue stood up and turned to Lin Er, who had been waiting nearby. “Brother Lin Er, accompany me to the dungeon.”
The female lead was right—with the male lead Hua Jian around, there was no telling how the plot might warp. She needed to cut the Gordian knot.
Lin Er followed. He was sent by Prefect Miao to assist Song Boxue; obedience and protection were his duties. Recalling the scene he had witnessed in the cells last time, his heart still hammered with trepidation despite having seen his share of “big scenes.”
This time was different, however. The young Magistrate did not let him follow her inside. Instead, she ordered him to guard the door of the torture chamber and let no one enter.
Inside the chamber, Song Boxue poured a bowl of wine. “Commander Jiang must have drunk wine from large bowls before. I hear it’s more satisfying that way. This toast is to you.”
She drained it in one go and set the bowl down.
“You corrupt official! Do what you will, kill me or skin me!” Jiang Wuyi yelled with indignation. Being tied to a stake like this brought him unprecedented humiliation. He had been adopted by the Jiang family as far back as he could remember. After developing feelings for Jiang Fanyin, he had left the estate to join the army, where he had flourished. He had never been at the mercy of another like this.
Song Boxue arched an eyebrow and said coldly, “Originally, your life would have been smooth sailing. This is the 11th year of Baiyue, correct? In the 12th year, you would have followed Young General Hua in an uprising. You would have been rewarded for suppressing rebels and enjoyed high rank and riches for the rest of your life. What a pity. A pity that you lot shouldn’t have treated human life as grass. Now that you’ve fallen into my hands, I doubt you’ll live past this year.”
She wanted to see how “Heaven” would protect the male lead’s camp. There was a saying: If Heaven is unjust, then one must defy Heaven.
“What do you mean by that?” Jiang Wuyi listened with utter confusion, yet his heart was profoundly shaken, as if what she described was indeed exactly how his life was meant to be. Facing Song Boxue now, he felt a supreme dread—an unease like someone was choking him.
Song Boxue gazed at him for a moment and said icily, “This official didn’t want to make things difficult for you. Blame yourselves for the sins you’ve committed. Commander Jiang, sign this confession.”
“In your… dreams…” The words died in Jiang Wuyi’s throat as his eyes became vacant.
Song Boxue untied him and pressed a brush into his hand. “Write your name. Press your thumbprint.”
As if he had lost his mind, Jiang Wuyi obediently held the brush, signed, and pressed his print. Song Boxue took the paper, tied him back up, and walked out.
A faint scent of lime lingered in the chamber behind her—fresh, yet piercingly cold.
As Lin Er saw her emerge, he felt an immediate aura of slaughter. The young Magistrate before him seemed to have transformed again; she radiated a daunting pressure that made one shiver just to look at her.
Song Boxue nodded to him and couldn’t help rubbing her brow. This was the second time she had used her spiritual power since manifesting. While still unrefined, it was much better than before—at least she hadn’t let her pheromones spiral out of control.
Returning to the rear quarters and looking at the nearby courtyard, Song Boxue felt an inexplicable restlessness. She paused, then changed her course away from her own room.
Behind the closed door, candlelight flickered through the window. She reached out and knocked.
“Song Boxue?” came an uncertain voice from within.
“It’s me.”
The door creaked open. Jiang Fanyin was holding a white cotton towel, drying her hair. Song Boxue’s breath hitched slightly. She shifted her gaze to the candle on the table. “I went to interrogate Commander Jiang.”
She didn’t quite know why she had come to Jiang Fanyin’s room again. Perhaps it was the pheromones; being near the female lead did indeed feel more comfortable, and her irritability began to ebb away.
Jiang Fanyin gave a soft “Mm,” signaling for her to continue.
Song Boxue was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, “This official feels a bit thirsty.”
The sound, following the motion of her swallowing, carried a trace of raspiness.
She had changed her mind again. Since she was already prepared to defy Heaven, why worry about some “destined male lead”? Song Boxue had always believed that what one wants must be fought for by one’s own hands. Whatever the result, she would at least leave herself no regrets.