Chapter 4
Qi Yin laughed in exasperation.
He bent down and scooped me up. His other hand rested at my waist, its warmth seeping through my clothes.
Beside my ear, his voice dropped deliberately.
“I can make them weaker still.”
What kind of filthy talk was that?
My face heated. Before I could react, he’d tossed me onto the bed.
Apparently, everyone in ancient times knew martial arts. I was a fully grown adult with a perfectly ordinary build, yet he flung me around like a chick.
The bed was covered with feather bedding, but I still landed in a daze. The words escaped before I could stop them—
“Tyrant!”
Qi Yin followed me onto the bed, bracing his hands beside my head. His kisses came one after another.
“Yes.”
For once, he didn’t get angry. He actually admitted it.
“I am a tyrant.”
“What of it?”
With that challenge, he lifted a hand. My clothes tore apart.
The air touched my skin, cold enough to make me shiver.
Then Qi Yin leaned over me, his breath hot.
…
The next day.
Qi Yin had already returned from morning court, and I was still curled under the covers, unable to drag myself out of bed.
When he came over, I pulled the quilt over my head and said into it—
“Tyrant!”
His low laughter came from outside the covers.
He didn’t seem the least bit annoyed by the name.
Laughing, he pulled the quilt down. “Here I am.”
After that night together, Qi Yin treated me much more gently.
Perhaps it also helped that I’d stopped trying.
The other consorts barely dared breathe in his presence. They spoke as softly as mosquitoes, and one extra glance from him was enough to drain the color from their faces.
Then there was me—
Shouting “tyrant” at him every day, armed with my mastery of iron-pot stew. And…
Apparently, the other consorts fussed over him in bed, kneading his shoulders, pounding his back, and helping him change. I was the only one who lost her head and yelled,
“Fucking ease up! You damned tyrant!”
Still.
My carefree days didn’t last long. An autumn cold snap left me ill.
Physician Zhou examined me again.
His brows stayed tightly drawn. He said the situation wasn’t promising, though he didn’t say how unpromising.
That night, the tyrant hurried to my chambers under the stars. “Your maid tells me you’re ill. What’s wrong?”
After a moment’s hesitation, I said I’d caught a chill.
What if he found out I was dying, extracted all my stew recipes, and finished me off ahead of schedule?
I might be dying, but there was no need to die stupid.
At the mention of a chill, Qi Yin nodded. “Have Physician Zhou prescribe something.”
“All right.”
I answered softly, lowering my eyes and doing my best impression of an obedient consort.
I had no idea which part of that set him off. Suddenly, his breathing grew heavier.
His gaze traveled over me, growing hotter by the moment.
I shrank back. “Your Majesty, shall I tell you a story tonight…?”
“No.”
He hauled me onto the bed. “You can act out a love story with me.”
“…”
Could someone please explain why a perfectly good tyrant had suddenly become a lecher?