Due to her religious beliefs, the Lady Taohua had always been chaste and pure. Aside from her husband, no other man had ever touched her body—not even the Jin Dynasty emperor earlier. Yet now, her wrists were firmly locked behind her back by Song Qingshu, forcing her into a posture as if she were nestled in his embrace, surrounded by the overwhelming masculine aura of his presence. Humiliated and furious, she snapped, “Let go!”
Song Qingshu, however, was oblivious to how intimate their position appeared. His focus was entirely on deciphering her identity. “Who are you, really?”
Seeing his indifference, the Lady Taohua frowned and abruptly drove her knee upward in a sharp strike toward his abdomen.
Song Qingshu swiftly clamped his legs together, trapping hers. No matter how much force she exerted, she couldn’t break free. As her struggles grew more frantic, he frowned and pressed a finger against her Jianjing acupoint. Instantly, her strength drained away, leaving her powerless to resist.
“Your martial arts bear traces of the Persian Ming Cult…” Song Qingshu muttered, recalling his battle against the Ming Cult’s revered leader. The memory of that bizarre fighting style remained vivid in his mind. Though this woman’s skills were far inferior, the similarities were undeniable. Suddenly, a name flashed through his thoughts, and he blurted out, “You’re the Purple-Robed Dragon King, Daiqisi?”
The Lady Taohua shuddered, staring at him in disbelief. “You’ve seen me before?”
Before Song Qingshu could respond, a voice called from outside—Da Xingguo. “Your Majesty? Your Majesty?”
Both Song Qingshu and Daiqisi immediately held their breaths, wary of revealing any unusual activity.
“This servant heard movement inside. Has something happened to Your Majesty?” Da Xingguo pressed.
Daiqisi tensed. She had already removed her disguise—if Da Xingguo saw her now, over a decade of meticulous planning would be ruined. Frantic, she mouthed silently to Song Qingshu, “What do we do?”
Song Qingshu shook his head slightly, signaling her to wait.
Hearing no response, Da Xingguo’s tone sharpened. “Your Majesty, if you do not answer, this servant must enter to ensure your safety!”
As the door creaked open, Song Qingshu’s expression darkened. Releasing Daiqisi, he swiftly scanned the room. The rafters were too obvious—Da Xingguo would surely check there first, and given his formidable skills, Song Qingshu doubted he could evade detection.
The only safe hiding spot was the emperor’s bed. Without hesitation, Song Qingshu darted onto it, kicking Emperor Xizong to the corner and pulling the quilt over them both.
‘D*mn it, sharing a bed with a stinking man—what a blow to my dignity!’ Song Qingshu grimaced, reminded uncomfortably of modern-day “bromance” culture.
Seeing Song Qingshu vanish under the covers, the Purple-Robed Dragon King bit her lip. Revealing her true face to Da Xingguo was out of the question—the bed was her only refuge. But the thought of sharing it with a man made her hesitate. As the door swung open, however, she had no choice. With a flush of shame, she slipped beneath the quilt.
Just as Song Qingshu was lamenting his proximity to Emperor Xizong, a soft, fragrant body pressed against him. Unlike the women of the Central Plains, her scent was intoxicatingly sweet. Their clothes brushed, their skin t0uched—warm, smooth, and electrifying. Instantly, his earlier disgust melted away.
For Daiqisi, her every muscle was taut. Since her husband Han Qianye’s death, no man had come this close—not even her nominal husband, Prince Changsheng. The thought of sharing a bed with a stranger pained her.
‘Qianye… I’m doing this for our daughter. Forgive me.’ She sighed inwardly.
Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling.
Blushing, Daiqisi turned away.
Meanwhile, Song Qingshu marveled at her lack of the cumin-like scent common among Persian women—instead, her breath carried a delicate, orchid-like fragrance.
Outside, Da Xingguo stepped in, sharp eyes scanning the room. Detecting nothing amiss, he approached the bed. Deliberately dropping a string of prayer beads, he bent to retrieve them, peering beneath the bed. Still nothing.
‘Strange. I definitely heard a struggle…’ He frowned.
But he trusted his instincts. His gaze settled on the imperial bed.
“This servant, Da Xingguo, pays his respects to Your Majesty.” He dared not lift the curtains rashly—offending the emperor was no small matter.
Inside, Daiqisi tensed. Wanyan was unconscious—how could he respond?
Hearing no answer, Da Xingguo grew suspicious. “Your Majesty?”
Realizing silence was futile, Daiqisi spoke up. “His Majesty is asleep. What business does the eunuch have?”
Recognizing the Lady Taohua’s voice, Da Xingguo sneered inwardly. So much for her icy virtue—now she’s sharing the emperor’s bed. Had she yielded earlier, she could’ve been the favored consort instead of a secret dalliance.
Aloud, he replied respectfully, “This servant heard noises and came to investigate.”
“There’s nothing. You may leave.” Daiqisi feigned a drowsy yawn.
“Understood.” Yet Da Xingguo remained rooted in place.
Sensing his hesitation, her pulse quickened. “Is there something else?”
“Forgive this servant’s impertinence, but I must confirm His Majesty’s condition personally.”
“I told you—he’s asleep!” She injected irritation into her tone.
“This servant bears grave responsibilities. I must verify His Majesty’s safety.” He paused. “I will draw the curtains. My apologies.”
Panic surged through Daiqisi. Da Xingguo’s martial prowess was unfathomable. If he discovered the ruse, even the resurrected Ming Cult leader couldn’t escape the palace guards.
Then, inspiration struck.
“I’m unclothed!” she blurted. “How dare you look upon me!”