The single word “Agreed” felt clean and decisive. In an instant, warmth flickered through Pei Qingmin’s eyes, and his thin shoulders trembled slightly. He leaned his forehead against Leng Yue’er’s shoulder with a kind of youthful, almost humble dependence, as though unwilling to let go of even this brief moment of comfort.
Leng Yue’er raised her hand and lightly patted his back. The force was not heavy, but it carried an unmistakable command to get up. She did not dislike his weight, but clinging like this was simply too presumptuous.
Pei Qingmin seemed not to notice her impatience. He lightly rubbed his jaw against her cool clothing, eyelashes lowered to hide the dependence and hesitation in his eyes. He showed no intention of getting up, as though trying to etch this warmth into his bones.
Leng Yue’er raised a brow. A trace of irritation flashed through her eyes, but she did not urge him again. Instead, her fingers idly caught a strand of his long hair and slowly wound it around her fingertip, loop by loop, relaxed and careless, as though she were toying with something insignificant. There was no trace of concern for the young man’s reliance.
The night deepened as the watch drum echoed in the distance. Minghai stood rigidly outside the small courtyard gate, his posture straight as a spear. His calm expression, however, had long since disappeared.
His thoughts drifted uncontrollably. The Prince Wei had not come out for so long. There should be no issue, yet why was there no movement at all? Guard Leng was cold and precise. She would not harm the prince. But the earlier faint voices had completely vanished, leaving only silence inside the room. The stillness made his heart tighten like it was being pierced by needles. He stood like that until dawn, his robes damp with morning dew, fingers numb from the cold, not daring to move even half a step.
When the sky began to brighten, exhaustion had already filled his eyes, yet he remained respectfully stationed, breathing as lightly as possible, afraid to disturb the two inside.
Pei Qingmin had originally been thinking over their agreement, the unease in his heart slowly dissolving. Eventually, he fell asleep while lying against her, his brows no longer carrying their usual distance or heaviness, instead softening into rare ease.
Leng Yue’er did not care at all. She continued idly looping his hair until drowsiness crept in. With a trace of annoyance, she pulled the quilt over him and tossed it loosely onto his body.
She thought to herself that while she was temporarily using him as a source of warmth, she could not let this weak body catch a cold. If he truly fell ill, he would only cling to her and create more trouble.
By late morning, sunlight spilled through the window lattice into the room. Leng Yue’er had already woken. Her peach blossom eyes were half narrowed, lazily watching Pei Qingmin still asleep beside her.
His pale face rested close to her neck, his breath warm against her skin. His long lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes. His straight nose and slightly upturned lips gave him a rare, almost peaceful handsomeness, unlike his usual fragile appearance.
Leng Yue’er studied him for a moment, briefly distracted. At his age, he should have been bold and unrestrained. Instead, he had grown up fragile and cautious. Still, this pure dependence was not entirely unpleasant. Compared to scheming and hypocritical people, it was much cleaner.
Just then, she felt his eyelashes tremble. She immediately snapped back to awareness, released the strand of hair without hesitation, and pushed him aside. Sitting up, she said flatly, “Wake up. Get up.”
Pei Qingmin tilted slightly from the push and slowly sat upright. His fingers covered his eyes as he steadied himself. When he realized what had happened, his ears turned red and embarrassment rose in his eyes.
Leng Yue’er had already stood up. “If you are still tired, sleep more. I am going to eat breakfast.”
She was clearly hungry and had been forcing herself to wait for him to wake up. In her view, that already counted as great patience.
Just as she reached the door, Pei Qingmin suddenly called out, sitting up straighter.
“Yue’er.”
He paused, then said firmly, “We are going to the palace today.”
Leng Yue’er turned back, her expression questioning.
“I will ask Father Emperor for a decree today,” Pei Qingmin continued earnestly. “I will ask him to remove your slave status. I will not let you suffer any grievance again.”
Leng Yue’er frowned slightly. Slave status?
She had always thought she was simply his dark guard. When did she become a slave?
A sharp realization suddenly struck her mind like lightning.
The identity of “dark guard” was never what it seemed. It was a cover. Beneath it lay something far more humiliating.
She was not a covert subordinate. She was a slave.
A property recorded under a slave contract, belonging to Consort Zhu Jing. Something that could be bought, sold, or killed at will.
Coldness surged through her body. Her fingers tightened slightly.
Before transmigrating, she had been a top assassin who despised control above all else. After arriving here, she had accepted the role of “dark guard” without question, but she had never imagined it concealed such a chain.
Her voice turned ice cold. “So you are saying I have always been nothing but a slave?”
Pei Qingmin quickly shook his head. “No, Yue’er, absolutely not. In my heart you have never been a slave. You are Leng Yue’er. You are the only Leng Yue’er.”
His voice grew urgent. “Even if you were sent to monitor me, I have never looked down on you.”
Leng Yue’er waved a hand indifferently. “It does not matter.”
Her tone carried no emotion. “What you think is irrelevant. Tell me how to remove it.”
Pei Qingmin hesitated, then said, “There are two ways. First, I can ask Father Emperor for mercy and request he grant you freedom because you saved my life multiple times. Second, the slave contract is in my mother’s hands. But our relationship is distant. She will not easily hand it over.”
At the mention of his mother, a faint shadow passed through his eyes.
Leng Yue’er had already stopped listening.
“Let’s go,” she said coldly. “To the palace.”
Her tone carried no hesitation. The killing intent in her eyes had already awakened.
They arrived at Consort Zhu Jing’s palace. Leng Yue’er stopped Pei Qingmin outside and entered alone.
Inside, Consort Zhu Jing was resting when the doors opened. Before she could react, a hand had already locked around her throat.
“You are bold,” she hissed in shock.
Leng Yue’er smiled faintly. “Yes, I am quite bold.”
Her gaze was calm and merciless. “Where is my slave contract?”
Consort Zhu Jing’s eyes widened in fury. “You are just a slave!”
Leng Yue’er’s fingers tightened slightly.
“Stop talking nonsense,” she said coldly. “I only ask once.”
Pain surged through Consort Zhu Jing’s throat. Her face turned pale as suffocation set in.
A trembling voice suddenly came from the side. An old maid rushed forward in panic. “I know where it is. Please release her.”
“Go get it,” Leng Yue’er said flatly.
The maid scrambled and quickly returned with a yellowed paper.
Leng Yue’er glanced at it. Her name was written clearly, stamped with Consort Zhu Jing’s seal.
Without hesitation, she threw it into the candle flame.
Fire rose instantly, devouring the contract. Within moments, it turned to ash and disappeared.
“Master, please…” the maid stammered.
Leng Yue’er ignored her and released her grip on Consort Zhu Jing. Without another word, she turned and walked out.
Outside, Pei Qingmin immediately asked, “Did you get it?”
“I burned it,” Leng Yue’er replied.
Pei Qingmin froze. Then he said gently, “That is not enough. You need a formal release decree and official registration. Only then are you truly free.”
Leng Yue’er frowned.
So troublesome.
Without hesitation, she turned back toward the palace.
Inside, Consort Zhu Jing had barely recovered her breath when the same hand clamped around her throat again.
“Write the release decree,” Leng Yue’er said coldly. “Or die.”
Consort Zhu Jing trembled violently, finally realizing she was not dealing with a servant, but a mad killing weapon.
At last, under coercion, she agreed to write.
Leng Yue’er stood over her, eyes cold and unyielding, watching as the brush trembled in her hand.