Xie Shuishan was simply curious about the difference between the legs of a paralyzed person and those of a dog.
She had once raised an Irish Wolfhound, back when she was only thirteen or fourteen.
By then, Xie Shuishan had already begun to suffer from psychological problems. That year, her parents had been killed by a bomb in a suicide attack carried out by a business rival. The Xie family’s shares had plunged into turmoil, and Xie Shuishan had developed dissociative identity disorder.
She began talking to herself. After their deaths, her parents appeared within Xie Shuishan’s body in another form.
However, this condition did not last very long.
Before Xie Shuishan’s mother died, she had already realized that her only daughter was too quiet and detached—cold, mechanical, and devoid of any joy in life.
So, without telling Xie Shuishan’s father or grandfather, she ordered a show-quality Irish Wolfhound puppy as a birthday present for her daughter.
A dog of such a fierce breed would normally never have been allowed into the hands of the Xie heir.
The Xie heir had no need for a pet, an emotional anchor, or any kind of weakness.
But after the accidental deaths of her parents, her grandfather was occupied with suppressing the turmoil within the family business. His heart softened slightly, and he chose not to interfere.
And so the puppy was delivered into Xie Shuishan’s hands.
Irish Wolfhounds were enormous. When fully grown and standing on their hind legs, they were taller than an adult human. They were gentle by nature and fiercely loyal to their owners.
They were also not impressive-looking in the slightest. In fact, they were somewhat foolish, with a coat of scraggly, dirty curls.
But no matter how ugly it was, that dog was still the first soft, living thing Xie Shuishan had ever touched.
Besides, it was a birthday gift from her mother.
She raised the puppy herself and often kept it by her side. Sometimes, she even slept with the dog.
She never taught it any tricks meant to please people—not how to sit, shake hands, spin in circles, or fetch a ball. Every day, a professional nutritionist prepared healthy, precisely balanced meals for both her and the dog.
Those were among the few carefree years Xie Shuishan had ever known.
Her grandfather was rigid and severe, but even he did not take the dog away from her. After getting the dog, Xie Shuishan stopped talking to herself.
The keepsake her mother had left her had pulled her daughter back from the brink of a split personality.
But one day, when Xie Shuishan took the dog for a walk in the hills near their home, she was attacked by people lying in ambush at the foot of the slope.
Things like that had happened countless times throughout Xie Shuishan’s childhood. Even at that young age, she had already learned to assess the disparity in force between herself and her opponents, then calmly analyze the costs and benefits with them before reaching a profitable arrangement.
This should have been a “war” she could have neutralized on her own. After all, “wherever there is bustle, there is profit to be made,” and although Xie Shuishan was still young, she possessed no shortage of power and wealth.
But that day, she had brought the dog.
The fool of a dog thought she was being attacked when it saw someone restraining her. Normally, it was so docile that it would not even eat raw meat; it insisted that the meat be cooked and seasoned with the same condiments people ate. Yet the moment it opened its mouth, blood was spilled.
She had raised an Irish Wolfhound—a member of one of the world’s few truly fierce breeds.
The scene could only be described as carnage.
Of the two men holding her, one had his throat bitten through, while the other had an arm torn clean off.
But her attackers had come prepared to die. They had spent months lying in wait, and they were armed.
After two gunshots, the fool of a dog still had its teeth clamped around one man’s thigh.
What happened afterward was a chaotic blur. Xie Shuishan could barely remember it.
Her grandfather dealt with those people later. Xie Shuishan knew what methods he used.
He appeared soft-spoken and mild, and rarely shed blood. In truth, he favored the sort of methods that involved pressing a wet towel over someone’s face—methods that left a person wishing for death, yet unable to die.
In the end, Xie Shuishan’s dog was barely saved. But its spine had been shattered, and it could never stand again.
Several of its internal organs had also been injured, and a bullet had punched straight through its skull.
Its condition was terrible.
Xie Shuishan remembered how the professional veterinarian had recommended euthanasia. The dog’s injuries were too severe; continuing to live would only subject it to endless suffering.
Its recovery was poor as well. Its internal organs later rotted amid repeated infections.
At the time, Xie Shuishan had touched its hind legs—the legs it could no longer move. They were cold and icy, with hardly any warmth in them at all.
Xie Shuishan had not thought about that foolish dog for many years.
After pulling Zhu Huan’s quilt over herself, she found that it was just as she had expected. Zhu Huan’s quilt was light and soft, completely different from her own.
But after stealing the quilt, Xie Shuishan noticed Zhu Huan’s legs exposed beneath the hem of his nightclothes. Without thinking, she reached out and touched one.
Despite being covered by such a soft, warm quilt, with braziers burning heavily beneath the layers of curtains and several warming pans tucked into the bed, Zhu Huan’s lower leg was still cold.
Xie Shuishan thought of how cold that foolish dog’s legs had been.
Back then, she had asked the doctor about it, and the doctor had said that blood was no longer circulating properly to the extremities.
If the condition progressed, the tissue would eventually die. At that point, the only option would be amputation.
Xie Shuishan stroked Zhu Huan’s lower leg and thought to herself that such a slender, straight limb, with its elegant shape, would be a terrible loss to beauty if it had to be cut off.
Just as Xie Shuishan traced her fingers up along his calf and slipped them beneath the cuff of Zhu Huan’s trousers, probing farther in to see whether the upper part of his thigh was in equally poor condition, Zhu Huan spoke in a faint, breathless voice.
“…What are you doing?”
Xie Shuishan looked at him in surprise and met his eyes, which he had laboriously opened to a narrow slit.
She showed not the slightest embarrassment at being caught. She did not even withdraw her hand. Instead, she moved it straight upward and, above Zhu Huan’s knee, felt a faint trace of warmth.
His condition was not as bad as that foolish dog’s.
After meeting Zhu Huan’s gaze for a moment, Xie Shuishan countered, “Your legs are paralyzed. Shouldn’t you have no sensation in them? How did you know I was touching you?”
At that moment, Jiang Yi, who had been pulled up onto the roof beam by Yin Kai himself, nearly leaped down in outrage.
This woman was truly detestable!
How dare she jab at His Majesty’s injury like that and profane the imperial body!
But Yin Kai’s large hand was as hard and forceful as iron. He covered Jiang Yi’s mouth and held him fast as easily as if he were a chick.
The order he had received was that he was to act only if the other party attempted an assassination.
To prevent anyone else from making the wrong judgment, Yin Kai had come to stand by personally. His Majesty’s plan could not be disrupted by Jiang Yi.
Thus, the numerous shadow guards remained poised and ready in their various positions.
Only Jiang Yi was both furious and anxious because of Xie Shuishan’s words.
Back in his day, His Majesty had been so strikingly handsome and accomplished. The young noblemen of Shuojing could not compare with him in either appearance or talent. After ascending the throne, he had become a ruler of phoenix bearing and dragon mien, a majestic sovereign whose dignity inspired awe and reverence.
If not for… if not for the aristocratic clans plotting against him and poisoning him to death, how could His Majesty have become what he was now?
And now he even had to endure deliberate humiliation from this woman of unknown origins!
Mmph, mmph, mmph!
Jiang Yi practically wanted to weep on His Majesty’s behalf.
Couldn’t she see how heartbroken His Majesty was?
In truth, however, Zhu Huan was not heartbroken by Xie Shuishan’s question. He was merely somewhat helpless.
He had no strength.
He said, “I only have no feeling in my legs.”
“I’m not blind.”
He had been sleeping soundly when someone yanked off his quilt and then pressed down on him with God knew what. The moment he woke, he saw the woman he had plotted to lure sitting there with great interest… touching his leg.
Zhu Huan’s mind was probably muddled from all the exertion that night. For a moment, he couldn’t figure out what this woman was up to.
Surely she hadn’t stayed up in the middle of the night just to molest him—a cripple?
Zhu Huan gave the woman, who had already sat down beside his bed yet still showed no sign of trying to assassinate him, another cold, scrutinizing look.
At last, he realized that he had miscalculated tonight.
Raising his voice slightly, he said, “Stop touching me.”
Xie Shuishan withdrew her hand, but she didn’t leave. After tossing and turning until she was completely wide awake, she tilted her head slightly and asked, “Why is your quilt so light and soft, while mine is so heavy and stiff?”
Xie Shuishan’s quilt was currently covering Zhu Huan. It was indeed both hard and heavy.
Only after another long while did Zhu Huan take a deep breath and say, “Because My quilt is filled with silk, a tribute from Sangzhou. Yours is filled with a mixture of reed catkins and cotton, and it has grown heavy with age.” Silk quilts were reserved for the emperor and his consorts. Jiang Yi had given this woman the kind used by palace servants.
“Cough, cough, cough… cough, cough…” It really was heavy. Zhu Huan was being pressed to the point where he could barely breathe.
“Forget it… You can have the quilt.”
Zhu Huan narrowed his eyes at Xie Shuishan. “You may withdraw.”
Xie Shuishan still didn’t leave. After all that tossing and turning, she had long since lost any desire to sleep.
She had died peacefully, yet the system had dragged her to this godforsaken place.
Nothing had gone right since she arrived. She had drunk some water earlier, and now she needed to relieve herself—but the chamber pot in the room looked like an old crock used to pickle vegetables.
Xie Shuishan would rather hold it until she died than sit on that thing.
She missed her custom-made Italian toilet, with its temperature-controlled seat, pre-wetting and foaming function, seventeen flushing modes, eight levels of warm-air drying, automatic flushing when she stood up, and all its other convenient, hygienic features.
The more she held it in, the worse she felt. She rose and moved a little closer to Zhu Huan.
She sat down beside his waist, lifting his arm and placing it on his own body because it was in the way.
Then she lowered her head and stared at Zhu Huan, asking with complete sincerity, “What do you usually use when you need to relieve yourself?”
Zhu Huan: “…”
His eyes were dazed and unfocused.
Xie Shuishan braced one hand beside his pillow. Afraid that he was too weak to hear her clearly—and seeing that he obviously hadn’t understood—she explained in greater detail using the terminology of this ancient era.
“I mean… um, when you need to go to the privy, what do you use?”
Xie Shuishan wanted Zhu Huan to get her one as well. She really didn’t want to use that filthy thing that looked like a pickle crock.
Whatever the emperor used had to be the best, right?
She no longer trusted Jiang Yi. Jiang Yi clearly disliked her and had actually given her such garbage.
Xie Shuishan said, “Get one for me too…”
Zhu Huan finally understood. His face instantly flushed red, as if someone had slapped him squarely across the face.
Suddenly, disregarding the cough that would be provoked by the shaking in his chest, he shouted sharply, “Withdraw!”
“Withdraw! Cough, cough, cough, cough—”
