Putao and the others were originally warming themselves by the fire indoors.
Jieyu, being kind-hearted, thought that since the charcoal fire in the room was always burning, she might as well allow them to come in and warm their hands and feet. So Putao moved the brazier to the main hall, brought over a few low stools, and sat around it with Pingguo and the others, doing needlework while warming themselves. With her keeping watch, no one dared to wander into the inner chambers or the study.
Estimating the time, it seemed Jieyu would be returning soon, so Putao instructed the others to tidy up. But just as they were halfway through, Shiliu came running back, panting heavily, her hair and clothes dusted with snowflakes.
Seeing that Jieyu wasn’t with her, Putao grew anxious. “Where’s our mistress?”
Shiliu was out of breath, gasping for air. “The Emperor! The Emperor is here!”
“That’s not what I asked! Where is our mistress?” What use was the Emperor’s arrival if their mistress was missing?
Lianwu, quick-witted, handed Shiliu a bowl of warm tea. After gulping it down, Shiliu finally caught her breath. “Mistress is on the imperial palanquin! It’s heading toward Yanqing Residence!”
Huh?!
Putao couldn’t understand how Jieyu, who had gone to Qixiang Palace, ended up on the imperial palanquin. But—their mistress was on the imperial palanquin?!
Though the Empress, Concubine Shu, and even Concubine Miao had all ridden with the Emperor before, they were favored consorts. This was their mistress’s first time!
Seeing everyone frozen in shock, Shiliu snapped, “Why are you all standing around? Hurry and clean up! Mistress is drunk—Lianwu, go to the kitchen and fetch some sobering soup! And prepare hot water, quickly!”
The entire household sprang into action.
By the time Jiang Yuan arrived at Yanqing Residence, the place had been restored to order.
When they saw the Emperor carrying their mistress inside, Putao and the others held their breaths, but their eyes couldn’t help darting to Qi Daiyu. Mistress, you’ve outdone yourself! To be carried back by the Emperor himself!
Pingguo’s cheeks flushed pink as her mind raced with countless romantic scenarios.
Shiliu tried to follow them inside, but the Emperor said, “You need not attend.”
She had no choice but to stop, watching helplessly as the Emperor carried Jieyu into the inner chambers.
Inside, Jiang Yuan unceremoniously dropped the woman onto the bed.
He had seen the excited looks on the maids’ faces outside, but the reality was far from what they imagined!
The thought made his chest tighten. He had actually felt a flicker of pity for Qi Daiyu, seeing her so drunk she could barely stand, and so he had carried her onto the palanquin. The bearers were well-trained, and the ride was smooth, without the slightest jolt.
Yet this drunken Qi Daiyu had the audacity to complain about the palanquin being bumpy!
She cried, fussed, and even claimed she felt nauseous, nearly vomiting on Jiang Yuan.
A concubine causing a scene on the imperial palanquin would have been a scandal. In a moment of desperation, Jiang Yuan covered Qi Daiyu’s mouth—only for the ungrateful woman to bite him!
Staring at the teeth marks on his hand, Jiang Yuan’s gaze darkened as he studied Qi Daiyu.
Meanwhile, Qi Daiyu was now fully under the influence of the alcohol. She had never realized how awful drunkenness could feel—her stomach churned, her heart ached, and the slightest movement made the world spin. She was also unbearably hot.
Earlier, outside, she had managed to endure it, but now, indoors, the heat became unbearable.
“Shiliu, I’m so hot… help me change,” she mumbled, her words slurred and whiny.
“What did you say?” Jiang Yuan leaned closer, noticing her flushed face and incoherent murmurs.
Her warm, wine-scented breath brushed against his face, fragrant and intoxicating.
Compared to Qi Daiyu, Jiang Yuan’s body was cooler, and she clung to him like a block of ice, whimpering, “I’m hot…”
The sudden embrace, coupled with her restless squirming, sent a jolt of heat through Jiang Yuan. His eyes darkened.
“Shall I call your maid to help you change?” he asked.
Mistaking him for Shiliu, Qi Daiyu nodded eagerly and tugged at “Shiliu’s” hand, guiding it to her waist. “Hurry up!”
Was she asking him to undress her?!
Jiang Yuan stiffened. This was absurd—he, the Son of Heaven, undressing a woman?
Yet his hands had already loosened her belt.
With the belt undone, her collar loosened, and Qi Daiyu finally felt like she could breathe. She didn’t need Shiliu’s help anymore—she quickly shed her outer robes, tossed them aside, and collapsed into the bed.
Jiang Yuan’s breath hitched at the sight of her in nothing but a thin undergarment.
Her skin was like tender jade, her curves soft and alluring.
His gaze traveled upward—the flimsy garment did little to conceal her charms.
A thought flickered in his mind: Qi Daiyu had indeed filled out compared to before. It wasn’t his imagination…
As the winter chill seeped in, Qi Daiyu, now cooling down, began to shiver. She groped blindly for the blankets but couldn’t find them.
Watching her movements expose even more of her, Jiang Yuan’s eyes burned with desire.
He yanked the blanket from beneath her and draped it over her body.
But a strand of his hair slipped beneath the covers, landing right between her—
Jiang Yuan: “…”
Now he looked like some lecherous rogue.
Flustered, he reached to retrieve the strand.
The tickling sensation on her chest made Qi Daiyu giggle drunkenly. She curled onto her side, inadvertently trapping his hair and forcing him even closer.
At this distance, her face was almost touching his.
Her skin was flawless, her nose delicate, her lips pink and full. Jiang Yuan noticed how pale she was—almost translucent, her veins faintly visible beneath the surface. Her slender neck looked so fragile, as if a single squeeze would snuff out her life.
For the first time, Jiang Yuan understood why his father had been so infatuated with the delicate Consort Yu.
There was something breathtaking about such fragility.
Under the covers, Qi Daiyu felt as if a heavy boulder were pressing down on her.
Annoyed, she frowned and pushed at the weight. When her hands weren’t enough, she even kicked out.
Catching her ankle, Jiang Yuan suddenly chuckled.
His Qi Daiyu was nothing like Consort Yu.
Outwardly, she appeared just as fragile, but inwardly? Recalling past hints and now her drunken behavior, Jiang Yuan was certain:
Qi Daiyu was a woman of contradictions.
Utterly infuriating.
Glancing at the bite mark on his hand, a mischievous impulse seized him. He buried his face against her shoulder and bit down—hard.
“Ah!”
The sharp pain sobered Qi Daiyu slightly. Stunned, she stared at Jiang Yuan, who wore a wicked smirk.
Slap!
A resounding slap landed on the man’s face.
"You bold wretch! How dare you bite me? Do you know who I am?" Qi Daiyu was so disoriented she couldn’t distinguish her identity—was she Teacher Qi from Hehua Kindergarten, or Consort Qi from Emperor Jiang Yuan’s harem in the Zhao Kingdom?
All she knew was that she had been wronged, and now she was putting on a fierce front to intimidate him.
Jiang Yuan let out a laugh, but it was one of sheer fury, his expression darkening dangerously. From the day he was born, no one had ever dared strike his face—not even a single finger had been laid on him.
This audacious Consort Qi—he would have her entire family’s heads for this!
"Oh? Enlighten me, then—who exactly are you?" Jiang Yuan ground out through clenched teeth. His movements were no longer gentle as he yanked his hair free and rose to punish Qi Daiyu for her crime.
"Zhen" (this emperor)?
Hearing that word, Qi Daiyu sobered up instantly. Her vision cleared, and she finally saw the man before her. As the memory of what she had just done flooded back, her entire body trembled.
She had struck the Emperor. She was doomed…
A haze of tears blurred Qi Daiyu’s vision, her drunkenness amplifying her fear of death. In a reckless, defeated outburst, she whimpered, "You bit me first! It hurt so much, that’s why I… wuwuwu…"
Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, though she dared not sob aloud, muffling her cries into the quilt instead.
She was going to die again, wuwuwu…
She wept so pitifully, her eyes and nose reddening as if she might perish the next second.
Jiang Yuan: "…" He hadn’t even declared her punishment yet.
Shadows shifted by the door curtain—likely attendants outside who had heard the commotion but didn’t dare enter.
Jiang Yuan rubbed his temples. If they came in, how would he explain this?
That he had bitten Consort Qi in anger, and she had slapped him in return?
What kind of absurdity was this?
"Enough. Stop crying. Zhen will not punish you," he said gruffly, turning her face toward him and wiping her tears away with rough strokes.
"Really?" Qi Daiyu couldn’t believe it.
This woman truly knew how to push her luck!
Jiang Yuan gritted his teeth. "Zhen does not take back his words."
So… she wouldn’t have to die again?
Her emotions shifted as quickly as the wind. In an instant, Qi Daiyu’s sorrow vanished. She giggled drunkenly and suddenly threw her arms around Jiang Yuan’s neck. "You know what? You’re not a bad Emperor!"
Preposterous! Since when did his merit as Emperor require a woman’s approval?
Jiang Yuan tried to push her away, but she clung to him like an octopus, reminding him of how she had slept those two previous nights.
Knowing it was due to past afflictions that she behaved this way, he couldn’t bring himself to reprimand her.
Fine. If he had already tolerated this much, what was a little more?
Jiang Yuan laid her down, planning to disentangle himself once she fell asleep. Without conversation, the room gradually quieted, leaving only the sound of their breathing.
Warm breath tickled his ear, and with her delicate body nestled against him, the vigorous Emperor frowned.
He had never been one to deny himself.
His hand slid downward, grasping silken softness.
Qi Daiyu, who had just begun to cool down, felt heat rising in her again. It was as if she had fallen into a forest, countless ants crawling over her, leaving her tingling and restless.
She squirmed, but the itch only grew worse.
Then, as if heaven had sent a scratching stick, one appeared without her needing to hold it, automatically soothing her. She moaned in pleasure, even arching into the touch.
Jiang Yuan was surprised by Consort Qi’s responsiveness tonight. Was drunkenness truly enough to alter one’s nature so drastically?
Or was it simply that alcohol heightened sensitivity?
Likely the latter—he could already feel a slickness unlike their previous encounters.
It made things easier for him and spared her discomfort.
No longer willing to wait, he pierced the peach blossom’s core.
He watched her expression closely, relieved when she only winced briefly before adjusting. Satisfied, he gradually intensified his movements.
As her murmurs rose and fell, the spring deepened within her.
Jiang Yuan’s face flushed. He had never been overly fond of such affairs—though he found pleasure in them, he never indulged.
Yet, whether it was the lingering frustration from their two unfinished nights or something else, he now felt an overwhelming ecstasy.
It pulled him in, tempting him to lose himself, and he surrendered without resistance.
Qi Daiyu felt like a shrimp being boiled—sometimes unbearably restless, other times melting in bliss. The unfamiliar sensations left her helpless, reacting purely on instinct.
Time blurred. Drowsiness overtook her, and just before she drifted off, she thought—perhaps the pleasure had outweighed everything else.
Outside Yanqing Residence, Shiliu and Putao blushed. Never had there been such… commotion before. Why tonight…?
Putao whispered, "Should we fetch an old hen from the kitchen to make soup?" Consort Qi would need nourishment after this.
Shiliu nodded fervently. "Yes, yes." After tonight, the plumpness their mistress had painstakingly regained would surely vanish again.
The snow fell heavier, weighing down the osmanthus branches. Servants waiting in the corridor hunched their shoulders against the cold.
That night, the snowstorm raged on—and inside, the candles burned until dawn.
