The night was deep, and many houses had long extinguished their lights, their occupants already lost in dreams. Yet one particular courtyard stood as an exception.
The room was quiet, with only the sound of two breaths lingering in the air. Yet, Dai Li felt as though she could hear the rumble of thunder—no, not the spring thunder, but the frantic pounding of her heart, threatening to leap out of her throat.
As the man leaned in, Dai Li instinctively raised a hand to press against his chest. "I wasn’t making up excuses. It’s just that the matter is complicated, and I was thinking of how to explain it briefly."
Qin Shaozong didn’t retreat, but neither did he advance further. He remained hovering above her, his gaze fixed on the woman beneath him.
Dai Li didn’t expect him to respond. She forced tears to her eyes and began spinning a tale that was half-truth, half-lie: "I have a young son who was abducted by villains some time ago. After some investigation, I learned he might be somewhere in this estate. That’s why I sneaked in to search for him. Running into you was entirely unexpected."
Qin Shaozong wasn’t surprised she had a child.
In this dynasty, girls were considered marriageable at fifteen. To encourage population growth, the court had issued decrees promoting childbirth and reducing taxes, one of which stated: "Unmarried women aged fifteen to thirty must pay five times the usual poll tax."
Thus, daughters from common families married early. Even noblewomen, despite delaying slightly, rarely remained unwed for more than a year or two.
"I know you are a man of great standing, and I’m grateful for your favor. Though wealth and comfort are tempting, I am a mother. My son is the flesh of my heart. From the moment I decided to bear him, I vowed to protect and raise him. How could I bear to see him suffer alone in the world? My desperation to find him drove me to take reckless actions, even borrowing your authority. The chaos that followed was never my intention. I was terrified and ashamed to face you again, knowing I had betrayed your kindness."
At first, Dai Li had intended to feign hardship, but as she spoke, memories of her missing son—whose body she had never found—brought genuine tears to her eyes.
"As for your accusation of resistance, that’s not accurate." Dai Li refused to admit it. "At the time, I was exhausted, half-asleep, and the night was dark. When I first woke, I didn’t recognize you. I thought you were the villain who had taken my son and had come back for me. I beg your forgiveness."
Pausing, she flattered him: "That you would still hold me in regard despite my mistakes fills me with joy. How could I push you away? Your bearing alone marks you as nobility of the highest order."
Her explanation neatly dismissed his earlier demand—"Will you come out yourself, or shall I drag you out?"—as the result of her drowsiness. As for her struggles, she insisted it was the darkness that had kept her from recognizing him.
In short, the past was the past. Now, she saw him for who he was.
When she finished, Qin Shaozong let out a low chuckle, leaving her unsure whether he believed her. Pressing her lips together, she resolved to strike harder.
No longer flustered, Dai Li curved her red lips slightly. The hand on his chest slid down his black robe, her fingertips tracing a slow, teasing path designed to provoke a shiver. "I know little of politics and your exact status, but I’ve heard even Prefect Jiang defers to you. You must be a man of immense influence. Finding a child would surely be a trivial matter for you. Might I trouble you for this small favor?"
Her slender, pale fingers hooked onto his belt, brushing against the ornate clasp. Just as she was about to undo it, a rough, large hand suddenly seized hers.
He forced his way into her palm, enveloping her delicate hand in his, kneading and stroking every inch—from the faintly pink fingertips to the delicate bones of her wrist, even sliding between her fingers with deliberate thoroughness.
Qin Shaozong smiled. "Finding a child is no trouble. At dawn, I’ll have men see to it."
Heat seemed to crawl up her arm, sending tremors down her spine. Suppressing the urge to pull her right hand back, Dai Li lifted her left to loop around his neck. "My son’s name is Qin Yanzhou. He stands five feet seven inches tall. Half a month ago, a Taoist advised me to cut his hair short, so he should be easy to recognize."
A flicker of thought passed through Qin Shaozong’s eyes. "The surname Qin?"
Dai Li’s heart skipped.
The name "Qin" wasn’t uncommon—it was among the Hundred Family Surnames. But she knew that in certain eras, certain names could dominate regions, becoming synonymous with power. The Sun Clan of Jiangdong, with its three heroes; the Lü Clan of Luoyang, with four prominent figures across three generations…
Surely "Qin" wasn’t one such name here?
"Who is your husband?" he suddenly asked.
Dai Li’s pulse quickened. So "Qin" was indeed a prominent name. Countless lies sprang to mind, only to burst like bubbles.
She couldn’t fabricate this.
She had no idea where or when she was, nor the broader political landscape. Inventing a noble lineage out of thin air would crumble at the slightest scrutiny.
Feigning guilt, she averted her gaze. "H-He was just a commoner. Even if I told you his name, you wouldn’t know him. The night is fleeting—why waste it on talk? Let us retire early, so I may see my son sooner tomorrow."
Her left arm around his neck tensed slightly, urging him down.
Qin Shaozong’s expression was unreadable. Then, with a soft laugh, he murmured, "‘One night of spring is worth a thousand pieces of gold.’ As you wish, madam. Let us not squander this spring night."
The arm that had been wrapped around her waist withdrew, only to slip beneath the gap between her robe and skirt.
Despite her earlier resolve, Dai Li stiffened. The touch against her skin wasn’t a hand but something like scalding sandpaper—rough and searing, as if a single stroke might strip her bare.
The fire traced her waist, then slithered upward like a serpent. Her lashes fluttered, delicate eyelids flushing a pale pink, like peach blossoms against snow.
The shadow above her descended at last, a towering mountain engulfing her completely. The distance between them vanished, and no one could be more acutely aware of his readiness than she was in this moment.
Her breath hitched. The scent of gunpowder and windblown sand filled her senses, the scorching air grazing her ear, leaving behind faint red marks and tremors before trailing downward.
But then—
"Hm?" Qin Shaozong pushed himself up slightly. The small, metallic object he had just brushed against puzzled him.
The candlelight flickered brightly. On the bed, Dai Li’s sash had loosened, her outer robe slipping open to reveal an equally disheveled undergarment—and beneath it, a breathtaking expanse of soft curves.
Snow-white skin, peaks rising proudly, a sight both delicate and striking.
Unlike most women, she wore no breastband.
No—that wasn’t quite right.
Qin Shaozong caught a glimpse of a faint lavender corner peeking from beneath her undergarments.
When he let out that questioning hum, Dai Li froze momentarily, initially unsure what had disrupted her plan—until he flipped her over.
The loosely draped outer robe and undergarments were further parted by the man, revealing her ink-black hair cascading like water over the woman’s snow-white back, an alluring sight brimming with natural grace.
Qin Shaozong brushed aside her silken locks, his gaze landing on an undergarment of peculiar design.
Most women’s belly wraps nowadays had ties at the back, fastened with one or two knots behind the waist. But this one had no such bindings. It clung seamlessly to her back like an uncut swath of fabric, though upon closer inspection, its midsection concealed a hidden mechanism.
Dai Li lay prone on the bed, acutely aware of the large hand moving over her—first skin against skin, then separated by the undergarment—until a soft snap sounded.
Her undergarment had come undone.
Back in the western pavilion when changing clothes, Dai Li had considered swapping everything down to her undergarments but ultimately refrained.
For one, unlike dresses and robes, undergarments weren’t visible to prying eyes. For another, she couldn’t bring herself to wear someone else’s intimate wear.
Yet plans never survived contact with reality. She hadn’t expected him to search the estate for her, nor that she’d fail to evade him.
In modern times, undergarment clasps were made of cheap, commonplace iron. But in this era of cold steel, iron was as precious as weaponry—a force indispensable for overthrowing regimes. Even in the Han Dynasty, after leaps in metallurgy, iron remained costly. Commoners might own iron plows or hoes, but not necessarily an iron pot.
And now, this valuable material was embedded in a woman’s intimate garment.
Dai Li remembered the clasps were the same color as the fabric, invisible to the eye. She prayed he wouldn’t recognize them.
“Iron?” Qin Shaozong pressed a finger against them.
Dai Li: “…”
“Where did you buy this belly wrap, madam?” he asked.
Dai Li rolled onto her back, arms crossed over her chest, and answered languidly, “From a merchant from the Western Regions. He boasted it was unique, swearing no other woman would own its likeness. I found it novel, so I bought it.”
Then she looped her arms around his neck. “My lord, let’s not dwell on such trifles. Seizing the moment is what matters now. I dearly wish to see my son by tomorrow.”
Qin Shaozong didn’t stop her from turning, nor did he seem to care about the iron clasps anymore. He leaned in as she pulled him closer. “Rest assured. If your son is in this estate, even if hidden in the master’s private vault, I’ll bring him to you.”
“I never doubted your capabilities,” Dai Li murmured sweetly. No longer face-to-face, she finally allowed her expression to shift.
The familiar heat of his breath trailed down her neck. As she counted silently, her hand drifted lower, fingertips brushing his waist. Though still clad in his black outer robe, she could feel the firm, heated muscle beneath.
After a pause, she reached for his belt.
Belts in this era weren’t so different from modern ones—hooks and rings alike. Just as she undid it, Dai Li twisted her left ankle sharply.
“My lord, I’m unwell. It seems… my monthly courses have come,” she said, pressing a hand to his chest to push him away.
Qin Shaozong’s face darkened instantly. His scrutinizing gaze swept over her, but she bit her reddened lip, face pale, a sheen of sweat on her brow.
Expressions could be faked, but the body’s reactions couldn’t.
With a pained whisper, Dai Li asked, “Will you still send someone to find my son tomorrow?”
The woman on the bed was nearly bare above the waist, save for the crooked undergarment. Her hair fanned out beneath her like a waterfall, her flushed skin dotted with faint red marks, like a ripe peach glistening with nectar.
A vein throbbed at Qin Shaozong’s temple. The arm braced against her waist tensed, muscles straining as if holding back a storm. He inhaled sharply, then exhaled hard before straightening to refasten his half-undone belt. “My word is my bond.”
With that, he strode out of the fragrant chamber without a backward glance.
Only when his towering figure vanished entirely did Dai Li feel the weight lift from her chest.
She’d succeeded!
Just as she’d predicted, men of this era saw menstruation as unclean, something to be avoided—hence the taboos against women entering temples or touching offerings during their courses.
And as she’d guessed, a proud, powerful man like him would never stoop to verifying her claim, no matter how desperate his desire.
She’d buy herself a few days’ reprieve, use his influence to scour the estate once more, then find her chance to escape…
