Back Hall, Qinghe County Yamen
Candlelight flickered, casting dancing, distorted shadows against the walls.
Chief Constable Zhao gripped the scroll tightly. Beads of sweat rolled down his fleshy face and splattered onto the bluestone floor, breaking into tiny droplets.
Sitting opposite him was Old Zhang, who had just returned from the county seat. In his early years, Old Zhang had worked as a guard for a wealthy household in the capital, making him one of the few people in the yamen who had seen the wider world.
“Old Zhang, take a good look at this and tell me what you see.” Chief Constable Zhao’s voice trembled as he unrolled the painting across the table. “This man… his bearing… does he look familiar to you?”
Old Zhang leaned in closer, his clouded eyes scanning the image from top to bottom.
The man in the painting had sharp, cold features and a high, straight nose. Even with just a few strokes of ink, the stern, unapproachable aura radiated right off the paper.
Old Zhang froze in place.
Trembling, he reached out and pointed to a small birthmark behind the man’s ear — a detail the painter had added specifically based on Chief Constable Zhao’s description.
“This… this…” Old Zhang’s legs gave way, and he slumped onto the floor, the color draining completely from his face. “Chief… what kind of powerful being have you gotten us mixed up with?”
Chief Constable Zhao’s heart sank. The arm that had only recently healed began to ache sharply again. “Have you really seen him before?”
“More than just seen him!” Old Zhang lowered his voice, almost on the verge of tears. “Back when I was in the capital, I caught a glimpse of this lord from a distance when he returned to report to the Emperor. Those features, that build, and that red mole behind the ear… there’s no mistake. This is the Living Yama — Prince of Zhenbei!”
Chief Constable Zhao felt as though his skull was about to split open.
Though he had suspected the truth earlier, the realization sent a bone-deep terror through him that was far worse than any guess.
Prince of Zhenbei.
The man of legendary military achievements, whose power and influence rivaled the imperial court itself.
“It’s over… we’re completely done for…” Chief Constable Zhao collapsed back into his chair, staring blankly ahead. “I’ve been walking around with my head tucked under my arm, and worse — I’ve been brandishing a sword right in front of the King of Hell himself!”
“What exactly happened?” Old Zhang asked, confused. “Have you met the Prince?”
Chief Constable Zhao sank deeper into the chair. “It’s more than just meeting…”
“Tell me, what really is going on?” Old Zhang pressed, still puzzled.
“Don’t ask questions about things you have no business knowing.” Chief Constable Zhao’s face had turned deathly pale. He suddenly snapped back to reality. “Not a word about this painting, or anything I’ve told you, do you understand? Tell no one.”
Seeing the grave look on his face, Old Zhang realized something terrible must have occurred. He nodded quickly in agreement.
Chief Constable Zhao’s mind raced. He realized his only chance of survival was to find Prince of Zhenbei, beg for his forgiveness, and atone for his mistakes.
To save his own skin, he was ready to kneel and kowtow, to serve as a beast of burden — whatever it took to appease this powerful figure.
Su Family Courtyard, Qinghe Village
Night had fallen deep, and the chirping of insects rose and fell continuously outside the window.
Inside, an oil lamp burned, its wick popping softly with a faint sound.
Su Qinghe lay face down on the bed, scribbling away in a tattered notebook with a charcoal stick. Her legs were raised behind her, swaying back and forth in the air.
Her pale purple undergarments were rather short. As she moved, they slipped slightly, revealing a slender, pale calf. Her ankles were delicate, and her skin glowed with a soft, lustrous sheen under the dim yellow light.
Xiao Hanyuan had just stepped out of the washroom.
He wore only a thin inner robe, his hair still damp and loose over his shoulders. Droplets of water trailed down the ends of his hair, soaking into the fabric covering his chest.
The moment he entered the room, his gaze drifted uncontrollably toward those swaying legs.
His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily in his throat.
Xiao Hanyuan looked away, walked to the bed, and sat down. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight.
“Still not asleep?” he asked, his voice slightly husky.
Su Qinghe didn’t even look up, her charcoal stick scratching rapidly across the paper. “Just finishing the accounts for today. After deducting the cost to buy back the ring, we still have three taels of silver left.”
She closed the notebook and sat up, a bright smile on her face. “But don’t worry. Tomorrow we’ll set up a stall in town. I plan to sell milk tea and Chinese-style pancakes. Both are low cost but have great profit margins. As long as the taste is good, we’ll have no shortage of customers.”
Xiao Hanyuan looked into her sparkling eyes, and his prominent, attractive Adam’s apple rolled again.
“Mm,” he replied simply. He reached up to undo the buttons of his collar.
He moved slowly and deliberately, his long fingers undoing the first frog button, then the second.
His robe fell open wide.
A firm, well-defined chest was exposed to the air, still dotted with a few droplets of water. The smooth lines of his muscles rose and fell with each breath, radiating pure strength.
Xiao Hanyuan leaned back slightly, resting lazily against the headboard.
In the past, this woman loved nothing more than to stare at his body. Sometimes she would stare so hard she practically drooled, looking as if she wanted to pounce on him and run her hands all over him.
Back then, he had found it distasteful. But now…
Su Qinghe tucked the notebook under her pillow. When she looked up, this was the sight that greeted her.
She had to admit — this man truly had an incredible physique.
Broad shoulders, narrow waist, muscles that were firm yet perfectly proportioned. Every line of his body looked as if it had been meticulously sculpted by the gods themselves.
Su Qinghe swallowed hard.
But reason quickly reasserted itself.
They weren’t really husband and wife. She couldn’t let this pretend marriage turn into something real.
Desire is emptiness…
Stay calm, she told herself. You must stay calm.
Su Qinghe took a deep breath and deliberately shifted her gaze away, feigning composure.
She reached out, pulled the quilt over, and draped it across Xiao Hanyuan’s body, tucking it up high to ensure his tempting chest was completely covered.
“It’s already autumn, and the nights are getting cold,” she said with a look of concern. “Cover yourself up properly, or you’ll catch a chill.”
Xiao Hanyuan fell silent.
He stared at the quilt covering him, a vein throbbing faintly at his temple.
“I’m not cold,” he said, flinging the quilt aside. “I’m hot.”
Su Qinghe blinked, looking at him with an innocent expression. “Hot? Do you have a fever?”
As she spoke, she reached out to place her hand on his forehead.
Xiao Hanyuan caught her wrist. Instead of letting her touch his forehead, he pressed her palm directly against his chest.
The skin beneath her hand was burning hot. Beneath it, his heart pounded fiercely, thump, thump, thump — each beat stronger than the last.
“Here,” Xiao Hanyuan said, staring deep into her eyes, his voice low and thick. “Here… something doesn’t feel right.”
With her hand pressed flat against his hard muscle, Su Qinghe’s fingertips tingled at the firmness.
She tried to pull her hand back, but his large hand held it firmly in place.
“Husband…” Su Qinghe blinked rapidly. “Did you eat too much roasted meat earlier? Is it sitting heavy in your stomach?”
Xiao Hanyuan’s face darkened instantly.
“Su Qinghe.” He spoke her name, his tone edged with danger. “Didn’t you used to love exactly this?”
He guided her hand slowly across his chest.
“You used to find every excuse just to look at me, to touch me,” he said, leaning forward until he was close to her.
They were now inches apart.
Close enough that Su Qinghe could smell the fresh scent of soap on his skin, mixed with the raw, masculine pheromones that made her head swim.
Her heartbeat skipped a beat.
This man was flirting with her.
He was definitely flirting with her!