In this world, to live in extravagant luxury, one must have power.
The greater the power, the more comfortable the life.
And the place with the greatest power in the entire realm is the imperial palace.
From the day Qiao Shuyi transmigrated, she had been living in opulence, indulgence, and extravagance.
To live an ordinary life? She couldn’t do it.
So—
She would enter the palace.
She would become a favored consort.
She would ascend to the position of empress.
She would establish her own child as the crown prince.
She would—become the Empress Dowager.
Only then would this life of hers be considered carefree, unrestrained, and fulfilled.
The sound of splashing water echoed as Zong Zhengheng finished his bath.
Hearing the noise, Qiao Shuyi stood up, holding a jar of golden wound ointment.
She lifted the curtain and walked in gracefully, her steps light and elegant.
The lingering steam from the bath had not yet fully dissipated, and the candlelight flickered.
Zong Zhengheng stood by the edge of the bathing pool, already wearing his undergarments, but his outer robe was loosely draped over his shoulders, the front wide open, revealing his sturdy chest.
His pectoral muscles were full, his abdominal muscles well-defined, and the lines of his torso curved downward, disappearing at the edge of his undergarments.
Qiao Shuyi’s gaze paused for a moment.
This physique was truly… impressive.
She withdrew her gaze and walked calmly to the nearby couch, sitting down and beckoning to him.
“Zhi Gui, come sit here. I’ll apply the medicine for you.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Zong Zhengheng sat down beside her.
He slid his outer robe halfway down, revealing his scar-riddled back.
Qiao Shuyi dipped her fingertip into the glistening white ointment and gently applied it to a wound on his shoulder.
The ointment was cool, but her fingertip was warm, causing his back to stiffen slightly.
“Zhi Gui, from now on… could you call me by my childhood name, Shushu?”
Zong Zhengheng felt her fingertip gently spreading the ointment on his back—once, twice, three times.
He let out a soft “Mm,” agreeing.
As the ointment reached his waist, the outer robe also slid down to his waist.
But Qiao Shuyi’s fingertip began to tremble slightly.
Zong Zhengheng noticed it.
And he noticed the gentleness that followed the trembling.
Then, he heard a faint, almost imperceptible sob from behind him.
Zong Zhengheng turned his head in surprise.
Under the candlelight, Qiao Shuyi’s eyes were already as red as if stained with rouge. Her almond-shaped eyes were misty with tears, glistening with moisture, and her lashes were dotted with tiny teardrops, hanging precariously as if about to fall.
Truly, a sight that stirred pity.
“Zhi Gui… I didn’t realize your injuries were this severe. My heart aches for you.”
“I don’t like punishing you… Could you please not be disobedient anymore?”
She felt sorry for him?
She had locked him in the Water Dungeon, ordered him to be whipped, and now she said she felt sorry for him?
But her gaze, her tears, her trembling voice—they seemed so genuine, so real that not a hint of falsehood could be detected.
He suddenly recalled the stack of documents about the Prince of Jin’an’s household he had reviewed before entering Jinzhou.
The documents said that Qiao Shuyi had lived for sixteen years, wanting for nothing, never knowing the taste of “not getting what she wanted.”
The documents said that she had been lovely and delicate since childhood, doted on by the Prince of Jin’an, cherished by Liu Jinyu, and no one in the entire household dared to say “no” to her.
The documents said that she was arrogant, willful, and domineering, but she never thought she had done anything wrong because, from childhood to adulthood, no one had ever told her she could be wrong.
So, perhaps she wasn’t pretending?
Did she truly think this way?
In her perception, punishing him, beating him, locking him up—all of it was because he was “disobedient.”
And feeling sorry for him, applying medicine for him, shedding tears for him—all of it was because she “liked him.”
The corner of Zong Zhengheng’s mouth twitched slightly.
No, this madwoman is just pretending.
But at this moment, her tear-filled eyes gaze at him, the heartache in her gaze so sincere—so sincere that even he, the victim, can’t help but wonder:
Did he really do something wrong to make her this sad?
Forget it, does it even matter whether it’s real or fake?
Finally, Zong Zhengheng speaks, his voice low:
“I’ll be obedient.”
“Zhi Gui, you’re so good. You even care about me now.”
Zong Zhengheng: …
As her words fade, Qiao Shuyi suddenly leans down and places a light kiss above the longest wound on Zong Zhengheng’s back.
Warm and moist, it touches and leaves in an instant.
But at the moment of the kiss, Zong Zhengheng feels a tingling sensation explode from the spot she kissed, rushing up his spine, to the back of his head, to his scalp, spreading across every inch of his skin.
And Qiao Shuyi, as if unaware of anything, dips her fingers in ointment again and continues applying it to his wounds.
Once the ointment is applied, Qiao Shuyi stands up.
“Hungry? Come, let’s go eat.”
Zong Zhengheng silently rises, pulls his outer robe closed, and follows her out of the bathing chamber.
Passing through two moon gates, they arrive at a small flower hall.
In the center of the hall stands a round rosewood table, laden with a dazzling array of dishes, steaming hot and fragrant.
Braised pork knuckle, sweet and sour carp, eight-treasure duck, chicken slices with egg white, emerald shrimp—
More than a dozen dishes in total, each exquisite in color, aroma, and presentation.
Qiao Shuyi pulls him to sit at the table, seating herself right beside him, and smiles as she looks at the spread:
“I had the kitchen prepare all of these specially. Try them and see if you like them.”
Zong Zhengheng lowers his gaze to the feast before him and says nothing.
Qiao Shuyi picks up a piece of sweet and sour pork tenderloin and places it in the dish in front of him.
“Zhi Gui, try this. This has been my favorite dish since I was little. Uncle Wang from the kitchen makes it best—crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, sweet and sour. I could eat half a plate in one meal.”
As she speaks, she picks up another piece and puts it in her own mouth.
“Mmm—delicious.”
Zong Zhengheng looks down at the piece of tenderloin in his dish.
Sweet and sour pork tenderloin.
He has never liked sweet foods since childhood.
The imperial chefs in the palace all know that His Majesty never touches sweet dishes during meals.
Qiao Shuyi waits for a moment, and seeing him unmoving, tilts her head to look at him:
“Why aren’t you eating?”
“Miss…”
“Hmm? What did you call me?”
“Shushu… I don’t really like sweet things.”
Qiao Shuyi’s brow furrows slightly.
“You don’t like sweet things?”
“But… this is my favorite. Zhi Gui, do you know, since I was little, I’ve never shared what’s mine with anyone else.”
“What I like has always been mine alone, never shared with anyone. But today, I’m willing to share my favorite with you—and you won’t accept it.”
“Zhi Gui, you’re making me so sad.”
Hearing the word “sad,” Zong Zhengheng’s heart leaps into his throat.
Forget it.
He has already figured out Qiao Shuyi’s logic.
Whether he likes it or not doesn’t matter.
What matters is that she gave it to him.
If she gave it, he should like it.
If he doesn’t like it, then he is being ungrateful, he is betraying her goodwill, he is—
making her sad.
Zong Zhengheng recalls the rules he memorized in the Water Dungeon.
He had thought those rules were just nonsense she made up on a whim, but now he suddenly understands: those rules are her logic.
She wasn’t just making things up.
She truly felt this way.
Zong Zhengheng lowered his gaze, picked up that piece of tenderloin, and brought it to his mouth.
Sweet.
Cloyingly sweet.
So sweet it almost made him frown.
But he just chewed slowly, chewed, and then swallowed.
The grievance on Qiao Shuyi’s face faded bit by bit, replaced by overflowing delight.
“Is it delicious?” She leaned closer to him, her eyes sparkling.
“Delicious.”
“I knew you’d like it. Here, have another piece.”
Zong Zhengheng picked up another piece and ate it.
Qiao Shuyi rested her chin in her hands, watching him eat with a beaming smile.
“Zhi Gui, you’re so well-behaved. I think I like you even more now.”
Zong Zhengheng: …
“Zhi Gui, I suddenly feel that snatching you back will be the most right thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
Zong Zhengheng: …