Chapter 34: The Beautiful Princess vs. The Deranged, Sickly Tyrant (11)

“Don’t move, or it’ll hurt even more.”

His voice was low, his husky tone carrying a breathy rasp that was almost seductive.

But Ning Wanguan couldn’t care less about that. Her whole body was bound, unable to move even if she wanted to. The struggle had already left her with raw, bleeding wounds.

Pei Tingche leaned back into the grand chair, crossing one leg over the other. He closed his eyes, focusing on the pain that coursed through his limbs—the pain she inflicted, and the pain he, too, was responsible for.

“Leave us.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

The palace maids obeyed immediately, retreating from the chamber and carefully shutting the doors behind them.

Now, only the two of them remained.

Pei Tingche narrowed his eyes, his dark gaze carefully watching her every reaction.

She looked like a shrimp stripped of its shell.

Emotions overwhelmed her, and she let out a muffled whimper. Tears welled up in her eyes, and a single drop slid down her cheek.

Was it pain or pleasure?

She kicked against the edge of the bed, but the force was too great—her ankle scraped against the wood, peeling away a layer of skin.

Blood dripped, one drop at a time, onto the pristine white sheets.

The contrast was striking.

Snow-white fabric. Crimson stains.

His sharp features remained tense as he lowered his gaze. “Does it hurt?”

It had begun.

“You can beg me to let you go.”

“Dream on!”

She clenched her teeth. She had originally come to make peace with him, but who would have thought he’d humiliate her like this? And now he expected her to beg? She would rather burn in this fire than yield to him.

“This medicine is strong. Your body won’t be able to handle it,” he warned her. Yet his voice was unbearably hoarse, almost as if he was the one pleading for her to save him.

Both of them were trapped in a tormenting stalemate. Neither was willing to surrender.

“…”

Did he think she didn’t already know how strong the medicine was?

Pei Tingche lifted her chin, his dark eyes deep and unreadable. Then, he lowered his head and kissed her.

…

The night was thick with mist.

Neither could tell who had won.

The lingering heat slowly cooled.

It was over.

But nowhere near enough.

“Still not giving in?”

She had red-rimmed eyes, full of grievance.

As a beloved jade rabbit spirit, she had never suffered such mistreatment before. She ground her teeth in hatred, itching to chop Pei Tingche into tiny pieces with her own hands.

Pei Tingche’s expression remained indifferent, yet deep inside, a wildfire raged.

He was restraining himself.

…

His handsome face was tinged with red.

Their willpower was stretched thin, teetering on the edge—it was only a matter of who would break first.

“Pei Tingche, can you hold back?”

His voice was devoid of emotion. “Seems like you’re the one who can’t.”

(Harmonious, harmonious—delete, delete, delete. Don’t scold me, I was forced into this. I really tried my best.)

He lowered his head, his dark eyes unreadable.

A large, veined hand, brimming with strength, landed on her slender waist, steadying her body.

.

.

.

The scent of wine lingered.

A touch of intoxication seeped in.

Her face was flushed, her eyes hazy and innocent, yet it was precisely this unintentional allure that was the deadliest.

At this moment, she gazed down at him with the arrogance of a ruler—haughty and domineering—more like an emperor, while he was merely a subject kneeling at her feet.

He narrowed his eyes.

Then, he seized back his authority.

Neither of them was willing to surrender, and so the battle continued.

Until dawn broke.

…

Ning Wanguan was carried back to Hidden Moon Pavilion.

Qiu’er and Dong’er, her two maids, cautiously helped her clean up, their hearts aching for her.

So this was what it meant to serve in the emperor’s bed? It seemed being a concubine wasn’t as glamorous as they had imagined.

What’s more, their mistress didn’t even have an official title.

Truly pitiful.

Eunuch Su arrived, brimming with energy, carrying a bowl of contraception soup.

Ning Wanguan stared at the dark liquid. If she kept drinking this stuff, her body would surely collapse sooner or later.

It seemed she had to learn when to yield.

At least, that’s what she told herself. Whether she actually did it was another matter.

After forcing the bitter concoction down, she collapsed onto the soft couch and slept soundly.

By nightfall, after dinner, the ever-punctual palace servants arrived with a sedan chair to escort her back.

Exhausted, Ning Wanguan downed two vitality pills.

She wondered what torment Pei Tingche had in store for her tonight.

Upon arriving at the imperial bedchamber, she figured that, based on his usual habits, he would likely stay in his study late before appearing.

Ning Wanguan tried to convince herself to submit.

Fighting Pei Tingche was pointless. He held absolute power—he could crush her like an ant if he wished. If not for the Heart-Link Curse keeping her alive, she would have been dead long ago.

Yet resentment still boiled inside her.

The moment she saw Pei Tingche, it flared up uncontrollably.

Suddenly, the doors swung open.

A group of eunuchs entered, carrying something heavy.

Ning Wanguan lifted her gaze—and nearly passed out from rage.

She could only watch helplessly as the eunuchs walked up to her and carefully set the object down in front of her.

A surge of fury nearly made her cough up blood.

What kind of twisted mind came up with this? Where did Pei Tingche even find such a thing?

The four eunuchs stood silently at the side, awaiting further orders.

Only then did Pei Tingche stride in, leisurely flicking open a fan. He looked elegant and refined, yet the words that left his lips were utterly beastly.

“Will you get on yourself, or shall I have them put you on it?”