For two whole days, Chu'he did not step out of her room.
Chu Sheng paced back and forth outside his daughter's courtyard, his worry turning a few more strands of his hair white.
Bai Lian deliberately fanned the flames beside him, "Ah, Master, look at them! What kind of behavior is this? It’s bad enough that they held a private wedding ceremony outside, but now they’re indulging in daytime debauchery! If word gets out, I’d be too ashamed to show my face in public!"
Chu Sheng shot her a cold glance, "You didn’t seem worried about shame when you threw your handkerchief at me through the window back then."
Bai Lian choked, "I—that was different! I was smitten with you, Master, and couldn’t control my emotions!"
"So you do remember how easily young people get carried away by passion. I thought you’d forgotten, given how much bolder you were back then compared to my daughter now."
Bai Lian clutched her handkerchief, her face alternating between dark and pale.
She was still youthful—how dare he imply she was old!
Chu Sheng sighed deeply, his heart heavy with guilt.
"It’s over. I never should’ve brought up his infertility. It must’ve wounded his pride as a man. Poor Miao Miao is suffering now."
Bai Lian’s head snapped up in shock, "What? That Miao tribesman is infertile?"
Then, elation surged within her.
She’d always thought that Miao man looked unnatural, with his peculiar appearance—there had to be something wrong with him.
A real man ought to be like Hero Fang: robust, straightforward, and heroic, not like Ninth with his crimson eyes, silver-white hair, slender features, and that faint, elusive smile, moving as if he had all the time in the world.
Having been part of the Chu household for years, Bai Lian knew Chu Sheng only had one daughter. If she could bear him a son, wouldn’t the entire Chu estate eventually fall into her child’s hands?
But Chu Sheng never gave her the chance.
He was an oddity, unlike other men obsessed with siring heirs. He insisted that Chu'he could take in a husband, and any children would carry the Chu name.
Over time, Bai Lian’s hopes of bearing a child faded.
But now, hearing that Ninth was infertile—useless in both looks and function—and that Chu'he would have no heirs, who would inherit the Chu family?
A thought struck Bai Lian. She stole another glance at Chu Sheng, her mind racing with possibilities.
When the system reactivated, Chu'he lay motionless on the bed, eyes shut, as if refusing to acknowledge reality—like a limp fish.
The system let out a simulated sigh, [How tragic.]
The room was sealed tight, no daylight penetrating. The air was thick with a musky scent, torn clothes littered the floor, and the bed was a chaotic mess. A single blanket covered the girl, but every visible patch of skin bore marks.
During its downtime, she must have endured unspeakable torment. After all, this was the great villain—a sadist who excelled at forced affection.
The system felt it had to encourage its host. If she broke down and took her own life, this world would be doomed.
[For the sake of the world, for countless lives, your sacrifice will be worth it. History will remember you, temples will be built in your honor. The future is bright, Host. You must stay strong and survive.]
The limp figure on the bed opened her eyes. "I was trying to nap. Why won’t you stop yapping?"
The system: […]
—This wasn’t how the script was supposed to go!
It scoured its database of tropes. Shouldn’t she be heartbroken, humiliated, weeping as the villain tortured her into despair, paving the way for a tragic love story?
Or at least try to escape, sparking a cat-and-mouse chase?
But this host… wasn’t crying. Instead, she wore an expression of pure annoyance, as if it had disturbed her beauty sleep.
Chu'he tried to sit up but immediately collapsed back, clutching her empty, aching stomach. Her eyes were glazed. "I’m starving."
Ninth had laced the perimeter of her courtyard with toxic miasma. No one could approach—not even maids delivering meals.
Wake up, do the deed, pass out. Repeat.
Fifteen minutes earlier, Chu'he had blacked out from hunger mid-act.
It took the overenthusiastic youth a while to notice. Panicked, he gathered her in his arms, cupping her face. "A'he, A'he!"
Ninth tried every method he knew, but nothing revived her. Perhaps Central Plains folk and Miao tribesmen were different—his poisons and gu had no effect on her.
Thanks to the Lovebird Gu, neither poison nor blades could harm her. Yet now she was faint while he felt nothing. This loss of control terrified him.
"A'he, I’ll take you to a physician!"
He bundled her in the blanket and moved to carry her off the bed. Chu'he jolted upright like a corpse resurrected, yanking his white hair. "No physicians!"
If a doctor saw her like this, rumors of her "dying from overexertion" would flood the city by tomorrow. She refused to endure that shame!
Ninth ignored the pain in his scalp, staring blankly. "But A'he is weak."
"I’m hungry, you idiot! Feed me!" Chu'he mustered her last ounce of strength to yell.
After two days of nonstop activity, her endurance was superhuman. That she’d only just collapsed from hunger was a miracle.
And so, Ninth found himself kicked off the bed and sent to fetch food.
Hearing the full story, the system felt its data ports were corrupted. Meanwhile, Chu'he rolled over, chains clinking.
She was the prisoner, yet she’d kicked her captor out to serve her and now lounged shamelessly in bed. Their "dark romance" plot was nothing like the classics!
The system decided Chu'he must be slow on the uptake. It needed to finish its character briefing.
[Listen, I don’t know how you ended up with the villain, but that lunatic is the way he is because he was raised as a poison-fed test subject since childhood. He lacks normal emotions, and he—]
"—is obsessive and relentless until he gets what he wants."
The system paused. [How do you know?]
Chu'he lay limp, her voice hollow. "It all goes back to the day my mouth moved faster than my brain…"
That day, after being thrown into the test-subject pit with the system offline, she’d blurted out "fiancé" and "little treasure" in a desperate bid to survive—never imagining the consequences.
Who knew Ninth’s fixation on making a "little treasure" would be this intense?
Remembering how he’d pinned her down, insisting this position maximized conception chances, Chu'he hugged her battered body, too drained for tears.
She didn't feel pain, but she grew weary. Even the most joyful things, when done too often, became mechanical tasks. She felt herself withering, afraid she might never regain interest in such matters again.
