In the bedroom, red candles burned brightly, and warm incense filled the air.
Qiao Shuyi held Zong Zhengheng’s hand, guiding him all the way to the bathing chamber.
“Zhi Gui.”
As she walked, she glanced back at him, her eyes clear and bright, brimming with a gentle smile:
“I heard from An Yi that you were very obedient in the Water Dungeon today and memorized the rules of Jinglan Courtyard extremely quickly.”
“I knew it—you must not bear to see me sad.”
“Just now, when An Yi said you were out, I rushed to fetch you immediately, without a moment’s delay.”
As she spoke, she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling.
Zong Zhengheng didn’t know what to say.
He only knew that the woman before him was a madwoman.
And the logic of a madwoman was beyond reason.
He could not contradict her, defy her, or cause her the slightest displeasure.
Because every instance of displeasure came at his own expense.
So he merely lowered his gaze and replied in a flat tone:
“Thank you, Miss.”
Qiao Shuyi smiled contentedly, continuing to lead him forward while chattering on:
“Zhi Gui, look, I even had the bathwater prepared especially for you before you returned.”
“And only you—are worthy of sharing this bathing pool with me.”
The corner of Zong Zhengheng’s mouth twitched slightly, but in the end, it didn’t curve into a smile.
What, was he supposed to kneel and thank her for her grace?
“Miss is kind-hearted,” he said.
Qiao Shuyi’s smile grew even sweeter.
As they spoke, the two had already reached the entrance of the bathing chamber.
She released his sleeve, turned to face him, and reached out to untie the sash at his waist.
“After you finish bathing, I’ll personally apply medicine for you.”
The sash came undone, and his outer robe slipped off.
She peeled away his inner garment, revealing the crisscrossing whip marks on his back.
Qiao Shuyi’s brow furrowed:
“An Yi really is too heavy-handed.”
“If he had come to tell me earlier how obedient you were, I would have brought you out of the Water Dungeon much sooner.”
Zong Zhengheng: …
Did she even believe her own words?
Zong Zhengheng simply stood there, allowing her to strip away his clothes without offering any resistance.
Because resistance meant punishment.
It wasn’t that he was afraid.
He had simply learned—to wait.
“Zhi Gui? What are you thinking?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him.
“I’m thinking… Miss treats me so well.”
Qiao Shuyi smiled with satisfaction.
She raised her hand and gently patted his cheek:
“It’s good that you know.”
“Go on, go bathe.”
“Wash thoroughly. I’ll apply the medicine for you later.”
Zong Zhengheng stepped into the pool.
The warm water enveloped him inch by inch.
The moment his entire body submerged, he nearly let out a sigh.
It felt too good.
His chilled bones were warmed, and his stiff muscles gradually relaxed.
He leaned against the edge of the pool and closed his eyes.
He didn’t even want to think, to wonder what that madwoman was doing outside at that moment.
He just wanted to soak like this, to soak forever.
Qiao Shuyi reclined on the Beauty couch in the outer chamber.
One hand propped up her chin, the other played with the dark hair cascading over her chest, her gaze distant as she stared toward the layers of curtains shrouding the bathing chamber.
The corners of her lips curved slightly, but her thoughts had already drifted far away.
To leave an indelible memory for this Great Zhang Emperor, it naturally couldn’t be just these superficial wounds.
What she wanted was—
for him to think of her, Qiao Shuyi, even when sitting on the golden throne, commanding the realm, or embracing his white moonlight, in the occasional midnight dreams.
But one month.
Only one month.
Zong Zhengheng fought his way to the throne from among the princes—how could an ordinary man compare to his unwavering resolve?
Making him fall in love with her? A fool’s dream.
Then she wouldn’t make him love her.
Instead—she would tame him.
Tame an emperor.
If she failed, death was death.
In these sixteen years, she had lived freely and boldly, wanting for nothing, doing as she pleased. Even if she died, it wouldn’t be a loss.
If she succeeded—
Her eyes brightened, her smile deepening.
Then the so-called original plot would be rewritten entirely by her.
The ancients played with strategy and military tactics, emphasizing that “taking a city is inferior, capturing hearts is superior.”
But she came from the modern era—she played with psychology.
Pavlov’s dog: every time a bell rang before feeding, eventually, the dog would salivate at the sound of the bell—even without any food.
This was classical conditioning.
And Zhi Gui—was her dog.
She would make him firmly associate “obedience” with “comfort.”
The cold of the Water Dungeon, the pain of the whip—these were her punishments for him.
Warm baths, gentle caresses, tenderly applied medicine—these were her rewards for him.
Once or twice, he might still struggle, still hate.
But ten times? Twenty times?
Humans are creatures that seek advantage and avoid harm.
Zong Zhengheng, more than anyone, understood what was beneficial for him.
She wanted Zong Zhengheng to instinctively relax when she was gentle and instinctively shiver when her expression turned cold.
What was capturing hearts?
Hearts could be tamed.
Just like the girls in her past life, tormented by psychological manipulation until they were unrecognizable; the wives who endured domestic violence yet refused to leave; the children who both hated and depended on their abusers.
She would make Zong Zhengheng believe that her occasional gentleness was genuine, that her punishments were because he had hurt her heart.
Make him convince himself that when she was good to him, it was real.
Then—
Make him begin to yearn for her gentleness and fear her indifference.
Make him start to actively please her to earn her favor.
Turn him from “having to obey” into “wanting to obey.”
Turn his hatred for her into—inability to live without her.
In the original story, after eliminating the Qiao family, Zong Zhengheng did not stop there.
Those in the court who secretly colluded with Qiao Nanyu, those who backed the wrong prince in the succession struggle, those who held power but refused to submit—
He dealt with them one by one.
Demoting or executing, stripping or seizing—it took him two full years to cleanse the court thoroughly and truly grasp the vast empire in his hands.
During these two years, the female lead Su Yunyan did not have an easy time.
It was true that Zong Zhengheng cared for her.
But his heart also held the empire, power, and the forces he had to balance.
What could Su Yunyan do?
She could only wait, endure, and hope that one day, once he had secured the throne, he would cherish her in his palm.
And during these two years, Zong Zhengheng’s mind was truly not on romance.
If her taming of Zong Zhengheng this month proved effective, making him develop some unusual feelings for her—even if it was just lingering hatred or unresolved obsession—
Then she would have to prepare to fake her death.
Before faking her death, she would have to let him know that she was already carrying his child.
Qiao Shuyi raised her hand, gently pressing her lower abdomen, her gaze distant and thoughtful.
After she “died,” what would Zong Zhengheng do?
He would hate her—that was natural.
After all, the humiliation he endured this month would surely be etched into his bones.
But he hadn’t yet taken revenge on her, hadn’t personally tormented her, and she had died just like that—
Where would his hatred go?
He would keep thinking of her.
Thinking of her punishments, her mad ramblings, her fickle warmth.
And as he kept thinking, the good memories would gradually surface.
Moreover, these “good” memories would be magnified a thousandfold by her death and the child in her womb.
He would wonder, did she truly love him?
Beneath her madness, was there genuine affection?
When she was carrying his child, had she ever felt joy?
She would make him think.
Think for two years.
Perfect.
During these two years, Su Yunyan, that white moonlight, would have to endure grievances—she certainly wouldn’t wade into that muddy water.
And in the book, two years later, Zong Zhengheng, now firmly in power, would enfeoff Su Yunyan as Consort Shu, one of the Four Consorts, and embark on a southern tour.
That would be her opportunity.
By then, she would reappear before him with an “amnesiac” demeanor.
What would he do then?
Hate?
But the one he hated had forgotten everything.
Qiao Shuyi smiled softly, suddenly looking forward to the thrilling and perilous life that lay ahead.