Jing Miaoyi felt the emperor’s hands shift between gentle and firm, kneading and rubbing her own.
She looked at him, puzzled, until he grasped her face as if playing with a rare treasure.
She had never been treated this way before, and her cheeks flushed.
“Your Majesty…”
“If you’re going to say things I don’t want to hear, then shut your mouth.”
Watching Jing Miaoyi lower her head in embarrassment, her jade-like skin flawless, her three thousand strands of silk-like hair constantly stirring the emperor’s heart, he loosened his grip for a moment, feeling an unfamiliar unease. In all his life, he had never been so unsettled.
He stood with his hands behind his back, sizing her up: a simple white gown, no intricate patterns, hair styled in a plain court bun with a jade hairpin at the front.
So ordinary—yet why did she feel unforgettable?
No one had told him why.
“Your Majesty?” Jing Miaoyi spoke cautiously, noticing the emperor dazed.
He recovered and placed his hands on her cheeks, lifting them gently, forcing a smile. “You really don’t want to see me?”
Jing Miaoyi tilted her head; she was struggling to follow the emperor’s thoughts.
He saw her innocent, confused expression and couldn’t help a small smile. “I don’t like seeing you so stiff and formal.
Every time you see me, it’s either frowning or tears streaming.
Is it because I look frightening, or am I just unlucky to see?”
“Your Majesty,” she instinctively covered his mouth, but he grasped her hand tightly.
“So it seems I’m right. Jing Miaoyi, you’re bold.”
The emperor scolded sharply.
Jing Miaoyi shivered slightly. “Your Majesty, it’s a prophecy, I just forgot the rules for a moment.”
The emperor smiled mischievously; he enjoyed teasing her.
Interesting.
No wonder there are sayings about choosing between empire and beauty.
“Yet you haven’t answered my question. Why don’t you smile when you see me?”
“I command you to smile now.”
The emperor’s words carried a childish tone.
Jing Miaoyi was stumped; she didn’t like to smile, and why would seeing the emperor be funny?
She wished she could still be the carefree Jing Miaoyi of Qingzhou, her father’s cherished daughter.
“Your Majesty, I cannot smile.”
The emperor’s anger flared. Sitting upright on the dragon throne, his phoenix-like eyes radiated danger, his kingly aura almost suffocating.
“Jing Miaoyi, you are just like your father, unwilling to flatter.
Even coaxing me seems a waste of effort.
Good. I like your stubbornness. If you were like them, groveling and flattering, I’d lose interest.
If you can’t smile for me, perhaps only Shen Jueming can make you smile.”
Her smile, or lack thereof, puzzled the emperor.
She explained, “I cannot smile because I don’t like to, not because of anyone.”
This pleased him. He stepped closer. “Even Shen Jueming can’t make you smile?”
She nodded slightly.
The emperor placed his hands on his hips, coldly snorting. “Useless fool.”
“Jing Miaoyi,” he suddenly bent down, his gaze no longer lofty.
Up close, she could clearly feel his breath.
“Jing Miaoyi, I am here to make you happy.”
His solemn voice filled her ears.
Before she could react, the emperor lifted her into his arms and placed her boldly on the desk.
The stacked memorials fell to the ground with crisp sounds—one, two, three crashing down.
Jing Miaoyi had no idea what was happening.
Her mind was in a haze.
Warm breath brushed her ear, alternately hot and cool, making her body tremble uncontrollably.
She panicked and pushed him.
“Y-Your Majesty.”
The emperor noticed her confusion, took her small hand, and pressed it to his lips. “Jing Miaoyi, until now, others have served me—you are the first to make me serve you.”
“I had someone inquire about your preferences. You excel in painting, and after coming to the capital three years ago, you rarely leave the house. You love gardening and painting most.”
“Since you enjoy painting so much, paint the features of the man on the screen for me.”
Jing Miaoyi blushed, her white neck tinted red, every movement seemingly stirring the emperor’s heart.
Calm.
I am a wise emperor; my mind should not be consumed by such desires.
Damn it.
The emperor cursed himself for the first time.
He turned, placing one hand on a pillar and one on his hip, breathing deeply to clear his mind.
I am a wise emperor, I am a wise emperor.
Desire is emptiness; emptiness is desire.
“Your Majesty?” Jing Miaoyi cautiously tapped his shoulder.
The emperor spun suddenly, startling her; she slipped and instinctively grabbed his waist.
“Thud—”
Jing Miaoyi rubbed her head, eyes wide at the emperor pinned beneath her, scrambling to stand.
“Your Majesty, I… am at fault.”
The emperor’s head was dizzy, but he propped himself up with one hand, phoenix eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Jing Miaoyi, I regret it.”
“?”
He noticed her moist, rabbit-like eyes, reached up, and removed the jade hairpin from her bun.
Three thousand strands of black silk fell to her waist.
Gentle, beautiful, pure, and enticing.
She would never know how alluring she looked.
Shen Jueming, that fool, didn’t even know how precious she was.
“I don’t want you painting on the screen; I want you painting on me.”
Jing Miaoyi’s eyes widened in shock. “Y-Your Majesty, you’ve lost your mind. Let me check your pulse.” She reached for his hand.
The emperor was unbothered, tapping her forehead. “Jing Miaoyi, should I take that as you saying my mind is ill?”
She froze, instinctively covering her mouth and shaking her head.
The emperor laughed at her clumsiness. “Jing Miaoyi, undress me.”
Sitting upright, his narrow phoenix eyes squinted, hands braced, his gaze sharp and predatory.
In nature, prey has horizontal pupils to scan widely; predators have vertical pupils to lock onto targets quickly. Humans have round pupils, combining both advantages.
Once targeted, escape is impossible.
The emperor raised an eyebrow, signaling her to act.
Jing Miaoyi’s hand trembled; her heart had yet to recover from his outrageous request.
The emperor chuckled. “Haven’t you undone Shen Jueming’s belt before?”
“No,” she replied calmly.
Yet now her almond-shaped eyes glimmered red, genuine yet endearing, lips lightly bitten, voice low as if afraid to speak to him.
“Indeed. Miss Jing, you are beautiful. I must personally serve you—Shen Jueming, a mere dog, is far beneath you.”
The emperor’s broad hands guided hers as they gradually undressed him, revealing a perfectly sculpted body. Chest muscles sharp and defined, arms like a warrior’s, strong and lean waist without an ounce of fat.
Undeniably, a perfect canvas.
Qingzhou was full of talented literati, and countless legendary painters existed.
The pinnacle of Qingzhou artistry was not on paper, but on a beauty’s back.
Due to body heat, ink dries slowly; one wrong move smears it. Humans move, unlike still objects.
Only master painters could create art on living flesh.
Jing Miaoyi loved painting, yet her strict upbringing forbade painting on a person.
Her eyes betrayed subtle excitement.
The emperor watched with fascination, worldly desire flickering in his eyes at someone so pure and unworldly.
“What would Your Majesty like me to paint?”
He lifted a strand of her hair, the orchid fragrance intoxicating.
“An orchid painting.”
Blue ink touched the brush, cool as it met his waist and abdomen.
Soft bristles extended upward from his waist.
The beauty leaned in and out like a feather, teasing his heart.
Breath grew uneven.
Abdomen shivered slightly.
“Don’t move,” she whispered, pressing her hand on his stomach.
At that moment, Jing Miaoyi seemed to forget he was the emperor.
Her voice, like a nightingale, swayed his soul along with her brush.
The emperor’s pride and restraint collapsed; he grabbed her hand.
Ink dripped onto his fair abdomen.
“Your Majesty, you’ve ruined the painting.”
“Then we’ll finish it later.”
Her lazy, sultry voice filled his ear.
The emperor’s lips unknowingly met hers.
Jing Miaoyi tried to push him.
“Your Majesty, no.”
But the young emperor’s fiery passion burned too strongly for her protests.
The wet ink stained her pure white gown.
The unfinished painting on his abdomen imprinted, piece by piece, onto her clothes.
All night, the lanterns of Changsheng Hall burned, palace maids blushing at the sight.
Dawn broke; the emperor still gazed at her, unsatisfied.
His adam’s apple moved, and only one thought remained:
I must have her!
Despite the entire night, he still desired to possess her completely.
The gauze canopy warmed; fingers traced her slender waist.
The hibiscus-covered bed radiated springtime warmth; from now on, the emperor would skip court.
“Jing Miaoyi,” he traced her brow with his fingertip. “I know you’re awake.”
Her eyes reddened, shameful, avoiding his gaze.
“Do you have any little ones?”
She timidly whispered, “Mi… Mi.”
“Mi… I regret it; I will bring you into the palace.”
“No, Your Majesty,” Jing Miaoyi wept quietly, her mind calculating.
The emperor’s favor was fleeting, like a cat or dog.
If a more dazzling person entered the palace, he would forget her entirely.
She had no energy to compete for the emperor’s favor among the concubines.
It was not her nature.
Only if he cannot have her will he think of her every day.
Only then can she leverage the emperor’s power against the princess.