Gu Zhao felt a jolt of electricity course through him at her glance; in these past few days, she had seemed so gentle and alluring in the study, almost like a different person, and he found himself walking toward her without thinking.
Sensing Gu Zhao’s approach, Zhu Qingyu panicked and tried to flee, but he cornered her between the bookshelf and the wall, leaving her no escape.
For the past few days, to keep his promise of giving her time to heal and to ease her worries, Gu Zhao hadn’t touched her directly. He had even vacated his own cabin for her and moved out. On this ship, he was the master—a man of his standing would never lack accommodations—but Zhu Qingyu had never asked where he slept.
Today, her flirtatious glance stirred a restless longing in him. Unable to restrain himself, he braced one hand against the wall to block her escape, tilted her chin with the other, and bent down to kiss her gently.
Zhu Qingyu had nowhere to hide. Both hands pressed against his chest in a chaotic attempt to push him away.
Whether because she naturally lacked strength or still feared his authority, her resistance felt less like defense and more like caresses to Gu Zhao. The fact that she was willingly touching him only fueled his desire, spreading a wave of heat through him that he could hardly contain.
Gu Zhao took her injured right hand, stroked her palm, and nibbled at her earlobe as he rasped,
“Qingyu, I’ve waited so long. Are you healed?”
Zhu Qingyu’s right hand had scabbed over and was no longer bandaged. His touch on her palm didn’t hurt but tickled, while her left hand, pressed against his chest, encountered something unusual—probably an item in hidden pouch. She tried to pull her right hand free but failed, so she pressed harder with her left, confirming again that there was indeed something there.
Whatever it was, even if it were a key, she couldn’t reach inside to grab it in his presence. Unless Gu Zhao took off his coat, she couldn’t obtain it. That left only one option: wait for him to fall asleep and steal it. But he had moved out from his cabin, so she couldn’t find him at night.
Perhaps she could find a way to lure him back.
Zhu Qingyu multitasked, scheming how to get the key while playing the doctor she was. She lied without hesitation,
“Not yet.”
Gu Zhao didn’t expose her trick. Instead, he pressed his cheek against hers, murmuring intimately,
“Alright. I’ll ask again tomorrow. Don’t make me wait too long.”
Receiving no definite answer, Gu Zhao felt his commitment to keeping promises deserved compensation. He pinned her against the wall and kissed her again, only releasing her when his self-control was on the verge of snapping.
Zhu Qingyu sprang away like a startled bird, dashing to the door as if ready to bolt at any moment.
Gu Zhao called after her,
“Don’t run. Come here. Write a letter to your parents.”
Zhu Qingyu’s face twisted in panic.
“Why should I write to my parents?”
Gu Zhao took out various colored letter papers and spread them on the desk.
“We’ll stop at a dock for a couple of days to handle some matters. My men will also change ships there tomorrow to take the route to Shu, to fetch your family. Write a letter to your parents—first, because it’s been years, and they must miss you; second, as proof for them, so they’ll trust it.”
Over meals these past days, Gu Zhao always asked Zhu Qingyu about her family, curious about her past, demanding every detail.
Still suspicious that Zhang Shen was her cousin, Zou Qingyu mixed truth with lies, careful not to slip up. She even mentioned her long separation from her parents. The more details she gave, the more plausible she sounded.
To complete the act, even though she knew her parents could never receive the letter, she turned back, chose a sheet carefully, and began to write.
Since Gu Zhao would likely read it, she wrote with genuine emotion, thinking of her modern parents. By the time she finished a short page, tears had fallen onto the paper. Gu Zhao, startled, pulled her into his arms.
“There, there. Why are you crying? You’ll see them soon, won’t you?”
At these words, Zhu Qingyu, who had only been pretending, broke down completely. Knowing she’d never see her parents or brother again, her pent-up sorrow exploded. The more she thought, the more bitter she felt, and she sobbed louder.
She cried for the injustice of her promising modern life being yanked away and cast into this cruel world.
She cried because Gu Zhao was so wicked and immoral, stealing another man’s wife.
She cried even more because her modern family was lost to her forever, parted as if by death itself.
Between sobs, she poured out whatever came to mind,
“You’re so vile!”
“Stealing someone else’s wife—have you no morals? No shame?”
“Bringing my parents here is just another way to control me!”
“The books on your shelves are terrible, not a single one I like!”
“Pushing me like this, aren’t you afraid I’ll jump off this ship?”
By the end, Zhu Qingyu had released every tear she’d held back since arriving in this world—not just weeping on paper, but screaming and wailing until she nearly fainted.
Gu Zhao was terrified. When she sobbed so violently in his arms that she almost stopped breathing, he thought she might die, and believed he had killed her.
After a long while, Zhu Qingyu came to. She found herself not in the study but lying in a cabin bed.
Gu Zhao sat beside her, wiping the tear streaks from her eyes with a handkerchief. Seeing her awake, he asked,
“You hate me, don’t you?”
He had always known her tenderness these days was a façade. With her husband’s life in his hands, how could she be so carefree and willingly affectionate?
But the sweet poison was too intoxicating. Even knowing she hated him, he chose to drown in the dream she wove for him.
Zhu Qingyu, exhausted from crying, had no strength to maintain her act. She didn’t answer, just closed her eyes again.
No answer was itself an answer.
The false happiness was so fleeting. Though he knew it, he refused to let go.
Because even a lie was better than nothing.
Gu Zhao touched her forehead gently, his voice soft but his words steely:
"Zhu Qingyu, I know you harbor hatred for me in your heart. You can hate me, but you must remember this: everything I have promised you counts only as long as you are alive. If anything happens to you, I will be very displeased. And when I am displeased, there will always be people who pay the price with their lives. You know I have no morals and a vicious heart—I am far from a good person. I am capable of anything. Live well. Do not do anything foolish. Only by staying alive can you continue to hate me."
