Huai Jin was a well-known courtesan in Hanchun Pavilion, famous for no other reason than his breathtaking looks. His delicate, finely sculpted features, especially those expressive eyes that seemed to speak volumes, were even more alluring than a woman’s.

The year he was sold into Hanchun Pavilion, wealthy merchants from the north lined up with extravagant offers to buy him. Among them were brutish men who sought only to humiliate and torment him. He suffered greatly at first, enduring endless cruelty. When Song Luan finally took an interest in him, he actually felt relieved—at least she seemed like a normal woman, someone he could handle with ease.

Song Luan nearly spent her entire dowry to buy him, but even with all her daring, she couldn’t possibly take him back to the Zhao family estate. And so, for years, Huai Jin remained elsewhere.

But she hadn’t bought him for the usual reasons. Song Luan simply had a fondness for beautiful people. Every time she sought him out, it was only to drink together—nothing more, nothing less.

Huai Jin had come knocking today because she hadn’t visited him in a long time. He worried something had happened to her. He’d heard that the Zhao family’s second young master had reconciled with his second wife recently. The news amused him—after all, Song Luan had made no secret of her disdain for her husband. More than once, she had ranted to him about how much she despised Zhao Nan Yu, convinced that the drugging and forced marriage years ago had all been part of his scheme. That resentment ran deep.

What Huai Jin hadn’t expected was that, on his very first visit, he’d come face-to-face with the man himself. Years of surviving in the underbelly of the city had made him sharp and fearless. Without hesitation, he stormed inside—only to be instantly subdued, hands and feet pinned down. But even then, he refused to give in.

Zhao Nanyu stood at the foot of the steps, hands clasped behind his back, watching in silence for a long time. His eyes were dark as a deep abyss. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly before he let out a quiet laugh and asked, “Who is this?”

No one dared to tell him the truth. Heads lowered, everyone remained silent. The steward shot them a look, and they rushed to drag the man away without hesitation.

The faint curve of Zhao Nanyu’s lips slowly faded. His gaze turned frigid, and when he spoke again, his voice was sharp as a blade. “Have you all gone mute?”

The steward and the others trembled, fear creeping up their spines. Despite the sweltering heat, cold sweat drenched their backs.

Huai Jin and Song Luan made quite the pair—equally reckless, equally blind to danger, and equally determined to dig their own graves. He let out a sneer. “Who am I? Young Master Zhao, do you really not know?”

Zhao Nanyu ascended the steps, his black boots tapping steadily against the stone. He stopped just three steps away, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. His gaze, ice-cold and unblinking, swept over Huai Jin’s face before he enunciated each word with deliberate clarity—“Do you… deserve it?”

The moment the words left his lips, he raised his foot and kicked Huai Jin squarely in the chest. The force behind it was merciless—nothing like the refined restraint of a scholar. Huai Jin was sent flying, his lower back slamming hard against the doorframe. A sharp, searing pain tore through his organs. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, dripping slowly down his chin.

Zhao Nanyu looked at him the way one might look at a lifeless object. With practiced elegance, he dusted off his sleeve, lips curving into a faint smile. “Steward, see him out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Huai Jin gritted his teeth through the pain, forcing himself upright. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and spat on the ground. “Tch. I can walk myself.”

Damn bastard. That kick had been vicious—downright ruthless. No wonder Ah Luan couldn’t stand him. Men who only knew brute force were never any good.

He spat again. And again.

Zhao Nanyu’s brow twitched, the fire in his chest barely contained. His face darkened, but he said nothing, striding straight toward the back courtyard. Halfway there, he abruptly stopped, changed direction, and headed for the study instead.

He needed to calm down.

Right now, he wanted nothing more than to teach Song Luan a lesson she wouldn’t forget—but it wasn’t time. Not yet.

Zhao Nanyu knew everything about Huai Jin—down to the exact moment Song Luan had bought his freedom, how many times they had met, what they had said, what they had done.

Every last detail.

As his feelings for Song Luan deepened, he could no longer remain indifferent. His heart was no longer still as water.

He, too, could hate.

….

Song Luan paced anxiously around the room. She had no idea how many men the original owner of this body had actually entangled herself with. At first, she had naïvely assumed it was just He Run. Then, out of nowhere, another one showed up. At this rate, she was going to lose all her hair from the stress.

When she heard that Zhao Nanyu had sent the courtesan flying with a single kick, her nerves frayed even further. She racked her brain, desperately trying to figure out how to deal with him later.

Admitting it outright was out of the question. But she also had no clue how far the original owner had gone with that courtesan, so she couldn’t deny it too firmly either.

The mental gymnastics gave her a headache. Fortunately, Zhao Nanyu didn’t come storming in immediately to settle the score, giving her some much-needed breathing room.

In early summer, the days stretched long. As dinnertime approached, the sky still held onto its light, streaked with scattered clouds of crimson and gold.

Zhao Nanyu, having calmed himself, wrote two calligraphy pieces before taking Shige by the hand and heading to Song Luan’s quarters for dinner.

Song Luan was still on edge. She stole a glance at Zhao Nanyu, only to find that his expression was the same as usual.

A thought crept into her mind—Was he really going to let this go?

Was he not planning to pursue it at all?

Zhao Nanyu’s eyes carried a hint of amusement, his tone gentle. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

Song Luan felt a chill crawl up her spine. She couldn’t read his thoughts, nor could she understand how he could sit there so calmly, as if nothing had happened. She hesitated before saying, “I heard—”

Zhao Nanyu lowered his gaze, smiled faintly, and interrupted her before she could finish. “Let’s eat first.”

One must be well-fed to have the strength to settle accounts.

The words that had been building in Song Luan’s throat were forcibly swallowed down. She had worked up the courage to lay everything out in the open, to explain herself—but it seemed Zhao Nanyu had no intention of bringing the matter up at all.

She gripped her chopsticks, staring at the dishes she usually loved, but appetite eluded her.

Zhao Nanyu reached over and placed food into her bowl, as if worried she might starve. “Eat more.”

Bit by bit, Song Luan let her guard down, exhaling in quiet relief. “Thank you.” If he wasn’t going to mention it, then there was no need for her to poke the hornet’s nest.

That night, Zhao Nanyu did something rare—he stayed in her chambers.

Song Luan had just finished drying her hair, the lingering scent of fresh herbs clinging to her skin. Her summer nightclothes were light, the fabric sheer. In the dim glow of the lantern, the curves of her delicate frame were impossible to miss.

Under the moonlight, she seemed to glow—a soft, radiant white. Her slender, snow-pale neck was the kind that invited a bite. She remained oblivious to the presence behind her, lying on her side with one hand propping up her head, the other lazily flipping through the pages of a book.

Feeling warm, Song Luan had rolled up her loose pant legs to mid-calf, revealing a stretch of smooth, fair skin. Her bare feet curled slightly, small and delicate.

Zhao Nanyu appeared behind her without a sound, his shadow swallowing her whole. He watched her in silence for a moment before suddenly reaching out, grasping her wrist, and pulling her closer against him.

Song Luan’s eyes widened as she stared at him, dumbfounded. They were so close now that his breath ghosted against her neck, sending a wave of goosebumps rippling across her skin.

Their faces were mere inches apart. Zhao Nanyu’s dark eyes bore into hers, his voice unhurried, his mood almost pleasant. “When I came home this afternoon, I ran into a very interesting man at the gate.”

Song Luan instinctively shrank toward the edge of the bed.

She knew this lunatic wouldn’t let her off so easily. Forcing a stiff smile, she replied, “I heard.”

Zhao Nanyu raised an eyebrow. “Good. At least you’ve heard. I was worried you might not know. That interesting man, by the way, seems to share an unusually close relationship with you.”

A cold sweat broke out on Song Luan’s back, but she forced herself to stay calm. Slowly, she said, “There’s nothing between us.”

Even she knew how weak that sounded. But Song Luan trusted her instincts—whatever the original owner had done, she was certain that things with that courtesan hadn’t gone too far. A woman’s intuition was never wrong.

The man before her, however, only seemed to grow darker, his amusement twisting into something far more sinister. His lips curled faintly. “Nothing? That’s not quite what I heard.”

Song Luan would have preferred if he just exploded all at once—anything was better than this slow, drawn-out torment. Gritting her teeth, she suddenly slapped his hand away, rolling straight to the far corner of the bed. Wrapping herself tightly in the blanket, she put as much distance between them as possible before snapping, “I said there’s nothing, so there’s nothing! Don’t think so low of me! Yes, I’ve made mistakes, but I won’t admit to something I didn’t do. Believe me or don’t—I don’t care!”

She was clever. After throwing her tantrum, she immediately switched tactics—playing the victim.

Her eyes reddened, filling with unshed tears as she choked out, “Fine! My reputation is a mess! But do you think I wanted this?! No matter what I do, it’s always wrong, always a lie! None of you believe me, you all just want to torment me! And you—” Her voice cracked. “You don’t even like me, do you?”

She sounded utterly aggrieved—righteously aggrieved, even. And yes, Song Luan knew full well how shameless her words were, but dignity had never been her priority.

Zhao Nanyu loomed over her, closing in until she was backed into a corner with nowhere left to run. Towering above her, he stared down at her trembling form. “Do you really think you’ve been wronged?”

The woman beneath him was as pale as a sheet, her body trembling—whether from fear or rage, even she wasn’t sure.

Song Luan clenched her teeth, forcing out two pitiful tears. She wiped them away with unsteady fingers, sniffling. “Am I not wronged?! If you really doubt me, then just—”

Before she could finish, a short, startled scream escaped her throat.

Zhao Nanyu’s gaze sharpened instantly, his dark pupils gleaming with a dangerous light. Gripping her chin firmly, he lowered his voice and called her name.

“Song Luan.”

The body in his arms went rigid.

She had been this close to blurting out, ‘If you don’t believe me, then just divorce me!’—because honestly, nothing would make her happier than walking away from this marriage.

Cold, cruel, and downright terrifying—who in their right mind would want to stay with a man like him?

Zhao Nanyu forced her to tilt her head back, exposing the delicate curve of her throat. Two stray tears still clung to her lashes, shimmering in the dim light. Lowering his head, he pressed his cool lips to her cheek, softly, almost reverently, licking away the tears.

Song Luan didn’t dare move. She let him do as he pleased, her breath caught in her throat.

When he finally pulled away, his gaze was warm, impossibly gentle—yet she couldn’t bring herself to meet it.

She wouldn’t meet it.

His fingers tightened slightly around her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Then, in a voice as smooth as silk and just as deadly, Zhao Nanyu said, “Song Luan, I don’t care how many men you’ve been with before.”

“But from this day forward, you’d better cut ties with all of them.”

A low chuckle escaped his lips—soft, almost amused.

“Otherwise, for every man who comes looking for you…” He leaned in, his breath brushing against her skin. “I’ll kill one.”

“Right in front of you.”

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