After delivering that line, Chu Mingzhao took a deep breath and tried to climb off the body that was burning with heat beneath her.
But essential oil, of all things, had a lubricating effect akin to a century-old mud eel—slick and impossible to grip.
She had barely bent her knee when the sole of her foot slipped, nearly delivering a second heavy blow to him.
Pei Yan remained frozen in that rigid posture, his chest heaving violently. The red mole at the corner of his eye seemed to have drunk its fill of blood, forcing a strange, alluring beauty onto a pale, cold face.
He looked exactly like a man of fierce chastity, snatched into a manor against his will, preferring death to submission.
Cursing this broken system and its entire lineage down to the eighteenth generation, Chu Mingzhao used the edge of the bathtub for leverage and finally managed to roll out with absolutely no grace at all.
Her fingertips were slick with oil. She casually grabbed a snow-white silk handkerchief from the rack and wiped them clean.
“Alright, I’m tired. This little play ends here.”
She tossed the handkerchief with a dismissive flick of her wrist. It landed perfectly, covering Pei Yan’s bloodshot eyes and blocking the chilling murderous intent within them.
“Someone come.”
Chu Mingzhao turned her back to the bathtub, her voice resuming its usual arrogant and impatient tone, dripping with superiority.
“Throw this dog back to the stable. And don’t dirty the carpet.”
The coarse maids waiting outside heard her order and immediately pushed the door open.
When they saw the scene in the bathtub, they all gasped sharply.
There, the usually ice-cold Deposed Crown Prince Pei Yan lay sprawled helplessly against the edge of the tub. An eerie flush covered his entire body, his chest heaved violently, and his face was covered by the young lady’s personal handkerchief.
The maids dared not stare longer. They quickly lowered their heads.
Good heavens, the delicate daughter of the Prime Minister’s manor really knew all sorts of creative ways to torment people.
Look how badly she’d worn out this fallen prince—he couldn’t even catch his breath.
“What are you standing there for? Waiting for me to do your work for you?”
Snapped out of their stupor, the maids fumbled to drag Pei Yan out of the tub.
Pei Yan shook them off violently, sending the flower petals on the water’s surface rippling again.
“Get away…!” His voice was low and hoarse. “…Don’t touch me. I’ll do it myself.”
Pei Yan tore the handkerchief from his face, gritted his teeth, and propped himself up on the edge of the tub.
It took him two tries before he could stand, water splashing loudly. Thick clusters of rose petals clung to his bare chest and abdomen—bright red against stark white, a scene of raw, vivid allure.
The maids recoiled half a step, intimidated by the wolf-like ferocity and ruthlessness in his eyes.
This fallen prince might be more pathetic than a stray dog now, dripping wet, but that back of his was unbending as steel, a sight that stung the eyes.
Chu Mingzhao felt a wave of heat rush to her face. She was the first to stride out the door, waving impatiently at the maids.
“What are you two staring at? Since when is my dog something for you to ogle? Get out and wait outside. Let him dress himself first.”
The maids dared not disobey. They scrambled out of the room as fast as they could.
Only Pei Yan remained in the warm chamber.
In the lingering steam, he gritted his molars so hard they creaked as he stepped out of the tub.
The moment he left the warm water, the bitter winter cold clutched at him like a clinging specter. A violent shudder wracked his body.
On the floor lay his long undergarments, already soaked through.
He dressed himself slowly. The icy fabric robbed the last shred of warmth from his skin.
Finally, Pei Yan lowered his gaze, snatched up the oil-stained white silk handkerchief, crushed it in his fist, and tossed it carelessly into the brazier in the corner.
The flames devoured the silk instantly, releasing a faint, strange fragrance.
The door was shoved open roughly. Two maids entered, grabbed Pei Yan by the arms without a word, and dragged him out.
Stepping from the balmy warmth of the chamber into the frozen outdoors, Pei Yan felt as though his lungs had been pierced by the cold.
The servants of the Prime Minister’s manor hauled him all the way to the drafty stable.
The vicious winter wind of the capital cut like blades, howling mournfully through the holes in the thatched roof and the gaps in the rotting wooden planks.
The two maids threw Pei Yan onto a pile of hay reeking of mold and horse manure in disgust. Too lazy even to mock him, they rubbed their frozen hands together and hurried out, locking the door behind them.
Pei Yan crashed onto the haystack with a muffled groan.
By now, the journey had frozen the wet undergarments into layers of ice, clinging like a suit of iron armor to his bruised skin. The extreme cold had numbed his limbs completely, and his breath came out as white frost.
But nothing contrasted more sharply than the icy environment outside and the unruly fire burning within him.
Chu Mingzhao.
Pei Yan chewed on her name silently in his mouth, as if tearing at the flesh of an enemy.
This day’s disgrace, he would remember.
One day, when the stranded dragon escapes its shallow waters and returns to the abyss, he would raze this manor to the ground, grind this haughty daughter of the Prime Minister into the mud, peel her delicate skin, strip her arrogant bones, and make her taste what it meant to live in agony and die in despair.
He would carve a thousand cuts into that beautiful, sneering face, he would watch her weep and beg at his feet…
Just as Pei Yan was imagining all the ways he’d torture Chu Mingzhao—
Back in the warm chamber, Chu Mingzhao sneezed. The system’s electronic voice echoed in her mind again.
[Ding—]
[Critical plot node detected: Oath in the Stable.]
[Extracting original text segment…]
A holographic blue screen flashed before Chu Mingzhao’s eyes:
[Pei Yan curled up in the freezing stable, his wet clothes turned to ice. He shivered uncontrollably, but his eyes were filled with chilling malice. In his heart, he swore that one day, he would kill Chu Mingzhao.]
[Host must complete a reasonable revision within ten seconds. If no revision is made, the original plot will be executed automatically, and the male lead’s hostility will increase by 30%.]
[Current clearance: LV1 (one character can be modified). Countdown begins: 10, 9, 8…]
Chu Mingzhao gasped sharply.
This male lead’s heart was smaller than a needle’s eye! She just gave him an essential oil bath and accidentally gave his certain area a “massage” with her knee—and now he wanted to kill her?!
Change it. She had to change it.
Chu Mingzhao reached out her guilty finger and traced it rapidly across the virtual screen.
[3, 2, 1—Revision successful!]
The blue letters twisted, reformed, and settled into a line of suffocating text:
[…In his heart, he swore that one day, he would sleep with Chu Mingzhao.]
Chu Mingzhao stared at the words. She was so embarrassed her toes could have dug a courtyard out of the carpet.
That was way too blunt! Way too crude! It had zero literary refinement!
But the system apparently found this simple, crude revision quite satisfactory:
[Logic check passed. Plot now in effect.]
