Every word of Zhu Yu's past seemed carved into Song Yueyao's heart.
The world was now torn apart, divided among warlords who claimed their own territories and crowned themselves kings.
As heroes vied for dominance over the central plains, three states—Liangya, Lingyu, and Xun—boasted the vastest territories and the greatest power.
Her mother's family, the Nie clan, had been fiercely loyal for three generations, fighting in all directions for Liangya State and dyeing the rivers and mountains with their blood.
In their most tragic battle, almost the entire family died for their country. A massive clan had marched out to war, but in the end, only the white-haired commander-in-chief, Nie Yue, returned triumphant, bringing with him dozens of Nie family coffins.
Under the guise of offering condolences, Song Hu, the ruler of Liangya State, married Nie Yue's only surviving youngest daughter, Nie Qing.
Anyone with eyes could see that he had always feared the prestige of the Nie army. Terrified that their merits would outshine the throne, he took advantage of the Nie family's dwindling numbers to marry Nie Qing, thereby grasping Nie Yue's only weakness.
From the moment she was born, Song Yueyao had never received a proper glance from her father, Song Hu.
The inner palace was like a giant, silent, man-eating web. As an unfavored princess, she was taken out of the deep palace by her grandfather at a young age and raised in the military camp.
Her mother, meanwhile, was placed under long-term house arrest in a cold, lonely hall.
Only when the Nie army achieved military merits would her father grant them the grace to enter the palace and reunite.
Her grandfather would often stand before the camp, gazing at the vast horizon filled with yellow sand until the last ray of the setting sun sank into the earth.
With a cloudy twilight in his eyes, his voice was hoarse: Yaoyao, treacherous officials now hold sway in the palace, and the Nie family has no successor... After I am gone, I fear the people of Liangya State will not have many years of peace left...
Who said the Nie family had no successor? Was she not one?
Song Yueyao thought with indignation.
From then on, the young girl gripped a long spear.
She trained day and night; she got heat rashes in the summer and chilblains in the winter, pushing herself harder than any soldier in the camp.
The lieutenants and sergeants would often gather around to guide and tease her. Seeing that she was not even half as tall as her spear, they could not bear it and specially forged a light, handy crescent blade for her.
She wanted to prove to her grandfather that a woman could also take up military orders, gallop across the battlefield, and protect the rivers and mountains.
Good times did not last. When she was eight, the desert barbarians invaded, and her grandfather died in battle.
Without even the chance to carry his coffin and fulfill her filial duties, she was hastily sent by Song Hu to Lingyu State as a hostage, begging Lingyu to send troops for reinforcements.
Accompanied only by an old nanny, the master and servant suffered endless cold stares in a foreign land. With no time for sorrow, she turned her grief and indignation into strength, continuing to practice martial arts every day without fail.
One day, she accidentally noticed a young guard peeking at her martial arts practice from the top of the wall.
The crescent blade in her hand flew out on command, startling him so much that he tumbled off the wall and landed hard on his backside.
The young guard hurriedly explained that he had originally wanted to sneak out of the palace to visit his family and had unintentionally seen her practicing. He begged the young heroine to lend him a hand.
Seeing that the young guard had delicate features and was at most two years older than her, and thinking of her own situation as a hostage trapped like a caged bird, Song Yueyao kindly helped him distract the patrols so he could escape the palace.
Because of this, the two became close confidants who talked about everything, sharing an incredibly intimate bond.
It was a long time later that she discovered the young guard was actually the young master of Lingyu State, Jiang Zhiyu.
And by then, Jiang Zhiyu had already become the only light in her gloomy days.
Song Yueyao understood the hardships of a woman trying to establish herself in the world better than anyone. Because of this, she felt a special pity for Zhu Yu's only remaining obsession.
Jiang Zhiyu glanced at her, understanding perfectly, and then smiled gently: Who said the soul must be forcefully dispersed? I never said such a thing.
Zhu Yu's eyes suddenly lit up: Could there be another way?
Jiang Zhiyu nodded: Since you say this vengeful spirit was formed from an obsession, then we should fulfill its unfulfilled wish from when it was alive. Once its wish is granted, the resentment will naturally dissipate, and perhaps it will return to the cycle of reincarnation and enter the afterlife.
At this moment, Chai Xiaomi suddenly interjected while holding the ghost baby: Oh, oh, oh, I get it! It is like playing house!
If its obsession all along has been waiting for its mother to come pick it up and take it home, then we just need to fulfill that wish for it.
Xiaomi is so smart! Jiang Zhiyu held his folding fan, wanting to lightly tap Chai Xiaomi on the head in praise.
But when his gaze touched the young man behind her, the fan handle suddenly paused.
What... what was going on?
The handsome face was currently as red as a boiled shrimp, so red it looked like it might drip water.
That red flush spread from his face all the way to his ears and neck.
It looked as if he had been baking under a scorching sun for a long time.
Wu Li, are you sick? Jiang Zhiyu asked with concern.
Probably. Knowing his complexion was abnormal at the moment, Wu Li simply went along with the excuse. The ghost baby has a yin constitution. Prolonged contact makes it easy for cold energy to invade the body.
His words, both implied and spoken, blamed it all on the ugly doll.
Zhu Yu immediately and hurriedly took the ghost baby from Chai Xiaomi's arms.
Chai Xiaomi was suspicious: Are you really sick? Do you have a fever?
Speaking of cold energy, the cold energy on him was probably much heavier. Besides, Wu Li's constitution was a hundred times stronger than hers; she was fine holding it.
She turned to look at the young man's increasingly red face, but felt faintly worried and wanted to reach out to touch his forehead.
Let me feel if you are burning up.
Seeing the young girl turn around, the symmetrical begonia embroidery on the trim of the ruqun dress across her chest flashed dazzlingly.
Wu Li abruptly turned his face away, leaving her only with a burning red ear, his voice so muffled it was almost inaudible: ...Mind your own business.
He absolutely hated the dresses of the Central Plains women!
Not long ago, he had just remembered the sheer gauze he had encountered in the brothel inn, which had disgusted him for three days.
And just now, when Chai Xiaomi came over to take the ghost baby, she stubbornly insisted that the time of one incense stick had just arrived and she had not gone over the limit, refusing to admit defeat.
But he had been keeping track of the time in his head, and it had long exceeded the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.
The two argued their points fiercely, neither willing to yield.
So Chai Xiaomi simply played dirty, bending down and reaching out to grab the child directly. He did not know where the burst of fire came from, but he insisted on fighting her for the ghost baby. It was probably from the moment Chai Xiaomi started praising the Qiankun pouch Jiang Zhiyu left behind for protecting her all night that he felt a sour taste in his heart.
Did she really think that magical artifact was so miraculous? That it could ward off evil?
She was unbelievably stupid!
Perhaps afraid he would be rough with the ghost baby, Chai Xiaomi bent over and protected it tightly.
The distance between the two was incredibly close.
Just as he was about to release his red dragon to subdue her, he raised his eyes, and his gaze fell squarely into the slightly open collar of the ruqun dress at her chest—
It was plump, faintly revealing a deep cleavage.
He knew what was inside...
He had accidentally caught a glimpse once before, and she had been angry about it for a long time, even giving him the cold shoulder and refusing to speak to him.
But that time was just a distant glance; this time, it was right in front of his eyes.
His exhaled breath could almost slip down into her collar.
The roundness was wrapped in pale pink begonia embroidered borders, setting off her skin to look as white and translucent as jade fat. Even though it was just a tiny bit exposed under the edge of the ruqun when she bent over, nothing underneath was truly revealed.
Yet, it was precisely that faint curve that made him completely lose his composure.
Strange. When he had seen the sheer clothing of a strange woman before, he was so disgusted he could not eat for three days.
But why was it that whenever he inadvertently caught a glimpse of the hidden skin beneath her clothes, he felt nothing but an inexplicable wave of dizziness, his heart pounding like a drum, his breath growing scorching hot?
To say he was burning up would not be an exaggeration.
He did not feel the slightest bit of revulsion.
In fact...
He felt a deep sense of hunger.
Consumed by an overwhelming urge to sink his teeth into something.
