Love in Another Life: My Gentle Tyrant
Chapter Seven
She suddenly realised what she had done, and immediately withdrew her hand.
In her eyes, he was a cold and ruthless man.
He smiled bitterly, tightening his grip on her chains, watching as she bent over, her head bowed in agony.
His gaze landed on her abdomen. The smile on his face was cold as he carried her within his arms.
The blood from her ankles flowed as she struggled in protest, yet she continued to fight against his grip.
‘Long Fei-li, don’t touch me!’
Eyes burning with cruelty, he said, ‘You are going to marry Bai Zhanfeng? Then let him witness in his afterlife how his wife-to-be achieves pleasure beneath my body.’
Carrying her within his arms, he strode forwards to the cells.
With a careless swipe of his boots, he kicked Mou Quan’s corpse to a side and entered the cells.
There was a stone bed; bed clothes were scattered atop it.
She was thrown onto the bed. Scampering towards a corner, she recoiled, her back pressed against the wall. Eyes glistening with tears, she stared at him.
Effortlessly, he trapped her body beneath him, his breath hovering the faintest distance away from hers.
Writhing, she tried to resist him, but each movement caused her body to brush against the hard planes of his chest. Her futile struggles and the slightest caress of her body against his skin only served to fuel his desires.
Smiling bitterly, he pinned both her hands, securing her restrains on the metal hook beside the bed.
Her movements were completely restricted.
Her eyes burned with an indescribable emotion as she remembered the long-gone days of the past: of their rooms, softly lit by the lamps; of the curtains, beautifully embroidered; of the beds, comfortingly warm.
Her body, which had spent countless nights under his tender affections, was unwillingly responsive to his touch.
Really, he was more familiar with the sensitive parts of her body than she was.
When his hands slid into her skirts, her breath stilled, body arching involuntarily.
‘Changed your mind?’ A disdainful glance was all that gave away his thoughts. His expression darkened. ‘How did he fuck you? Like this?’
His possession was strong and violent, as always. The difference was, then, his eyes were lit with happiness and indulgence, his touch like magic, his caresses igniting a trail of fire on her body, kindling her desires.
She closed her eyes, allowing her tears to spill.
Abruptly, she was engulfed into his arms, the desperate madness of his embrace leaving her breathless.
His lips brushed against hers, a gentle contradiction.
Only moments before, she had thought that those lips would never press against hers with such gentleness ever again. She remembered, a long time ago, she had once said to him that he should not kiss a person he did not love.
Wasn’t her body tainted; ruined?
He hated her, she knew.
She hated him, he also knew.
Only, what he would never ever know was that she didn’t hate him as much as she appeared to.
A pretence, becoming more believable by the day.
How many hours remained till daybreak?
With the fall of the execution blade, everything will be concluded, their entangled fates and intertwining lives fading into the dusts as history.
Let it be this way.
Let her bring this unborn child and an unutterable secret into the eternal depths of hell.
***
Blood flowed from her body. From her abdomen were the sharp stabs of pain pounding at her, a thousand times more agonising than the wound from her ankles.
She did not know how she still possessed the strength to choke back her cries, allowing him to do as he pleased to her body.
Really, wasn’t she just trying to remember him for the last time?
To imprint every last glance, every last touch, into the depths of her mind?
Through her blurred vision, she stared at him.
Their eyes met; their gazes intense.
Then, he turned away, his stare landing on the blood-stained bed, the flicker of an unfathomable emotion crossing his eyes.
***
Long Fei-li, do you still love?
If you don’t love, why do you hate?
Yet, if you still loved, the gaze in your eyes is unbearably cold.
‘Your Majesty, there is an urgent message from the palace. The lady of Xuesong Palace is unwell and her unborn child is in danger.’ A voice rang from beyond the cells, clear and lilting, carrying a hint of urgency.
Desperately, she tried to think about something else, anything unrelated. Only by doing so could she endure the suffocating anguish clawing at her heart.
He paled. His movements were quick, rapid. She stared at him. A swell of blood rose in her throat but she fought firmly to hold it back.
Finally, without saying another word, he left the cells.
Actually, she still had one question to ask, just one last question.
Tomorrow, during the sentence, will you come?
Straining her ears, she heard the faint sound of horses galloping away in the snow.
The Consort of Xuesong Palace… In the Imperial Harems, of the one Hall and four Palaces occupied by the Emperor’s five highest-ranking women, the Consort of Xuesong Palace was the last woman amongst them to be conferred a title.
During the seventeenth year of Long Fei-li’s reign, only when all was calm and peaceful – when the internal civil war had been quashed, when the foreign invaders had been conquered – did he confer that woman the title of his Imperial Consort.
So, all the struggles of the harem and all the politics of the court never embroiled nor involved that woman.
That was his most loved woman.
Xuanji coughed up more blood. Her head swam with giddiness and her abdomen clenched with pain. She felt the wetness of the blood that flowed from her but did not dare to look, afraid that she would be unable to withstand the horror. Clenching her jaw, she stood, pulling the white curtains which had been tossed onto the floor over her body, covering herself.
Footsteps approached.
She lifted her head to see Zhang Jin kneeling on the floor. The wound on his chest had been bandaged, the smell of medicine lingering in the air. Xu Xi had likely helped him to treat his wounds.
‘I thank you for saving my life,’ Zhang Jin said, his throat tightening. His voice held the faint tremors of emotions, threatening to spill.
‘You don’t have to thank me. There is something I wished to ask you.’
Zhang Jin raised his head, his eyes falling on her two hands tightly clenched around the white curtains enveloping her body, and the silver of her exposed shoulder. Immediately, he lowered his gaze and said, ‘Please do say.’
‘That year, why did you sit for the imperial examinations?’
‘You may laugh, but I did it in order to serve the country.’
Xuanji smiled. ‘Actually, when the Emperor asked you that question, he already had the intention to spare you, and to warn you. There is nothing you can achieve by sticking to your principles, unless there comes a day where you are powerful enough to stand on your own.’
Zhang Jin stilled with shock, and he could not help but raise his head.
Nian Xuanji’s face was shockingly pale.
‘Don’t protest because of your pride, but for the country and her people.’
Cold sweat clung on his back. Zhang Jin kowtowed deeply on the floor, and said, ‘I will remember your words for the rest of my life.’
‘Could you still grant me a last request, and help me find a set of clothes?’
Zhang Jin’s house was located in the vicinity of the prisons. Madly, he raced back to his home, where he asked his wife, Madam Liu, for their newest set of robes, and then retrieved the big fur cloak which he had kept as a treasure, unwilling to wear even on himself.
‘What time is it now?’
‘Consort Nian, it is dawn.’
With the fall of his words, he was jolted back to reality himself.
The Emperor’s decrees had long been made known to even the lowliest prison guards.
Nian Xuanji was to be executed in the two hours following daybreak.
He was still trembling from the realisation of what was to come, but in the next moment, the thudding of a horse galloping to a stop preceded the sound of footsteps echoing in the still silence.
‘Seize the criminal!’
Chapter 7: CH 7
She suddenly realised what she had done, and immediately withdrew her hand.
In her eyes, he was a cold and ruthless man.
He smiled bitterly, tightening his grip on her chains, watching as she bent over, her head bowed in agony.
His gaze landed on her abdomen. The smile on his face was cold as he carried her within his arms.
The blood from her ankles flowed as she struggled in protest, yet she continued to fight against his grip.
‘Long Fei-li, don’t touch me!’
Eyes burning with cruelty, he said, ‘You are going to marry Bai Zhanfeng? Then let him witness in his afterlife how his wife-to-be achieves pleasure beneath my body.’
Carrying her within his arms, he strode forwards to the cells.
With a careless swipe of his boots, he kicked Mou Quan’s corpse to a side and entered the cells.
There was a stone bed; bed clothes were scattered atop it.
She was thrown onto the bed. Scampering towards a corner, she recoiled, her back pressed against the wall. Eyes glistening with tears, she stared at him.
Effortlessly, he trapped her body beneath him, his breath hovering the faintest distance away from hers.
Writhing, she tried to resist him, but each movement caused her body to brush against the hard planes of his chest. Her futile struggles and the slightest caress of her body against his skin only served to fuel his desires.
Smiling bitterly, he pinned both her hands, securing her restrains on the metal hook beside the bed.
Her movements were completely restricted.
Her eyes burned with an indescribable emotion as she remembered the long-gone days of the past: of their rooms, softly lit by the lamps; of the curtains, beautifully embroidered; of the beds, comfortingly warm.
Her body, which had spent countless nights under his tender affections, was unwillingly responsive to his touch.
Really, he was more familiar with the sensitive parts of her body than she was.
When his hands slid into her skirts, her breath stilled, body arching involuntarily.
His possession was strong and violent, as always. The difference was, then, his eyes were lit with happiness and indulgence, his touch like magic, his caresses igniting a trail of fire on her body, kindling her desires.
She closed her eyes, allowing her tears to spill.
Abruptly, she was engulfed into his arms, the desperate madness of his embrace leaving her breathless.
His lips brushed against hers, a gentle contradiction.
Only moments before, she had thought that those lips would never press against hers with such gentleness ever again. She remembered, a long time ago, she had once said to him that he should not kiss a person he did not love.
Wasn’t her body tainted; ruined?
He hated her, she knew.
She hated him, he also knew.
Only, what he would never ever know was that she didn’t hate him as much as she appeared to.
A pretence, becoming more believable by the day.
How many hours remained till daybreak?
With the fall of the execution blade, everything will be concluded, their entangled fates and intertwining lives fading into the dusts as history.
Let it be this way.
Let her bring this unborn child and an unutterable secret into the eternal depths of hell.
***
Blood flowed from her body. From her abdomen were the sharp stabs of pain pounding at her, a thousand times more agonising than the wound from her ankles.
She did not know how she still possessed the strength to choke back her cries, allowing him to do as he pleased to her body.
Really, wasn’t she just trying to remember him for the last time?
To imprint every last glance, every last touch, into the depths of her mind?
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Their eyes met; their gazes intense.
Then, he turned away, his stare landing on the blood-stained bed, the flicker of an unfathomable emotion crossing his eyes.
***
Long Fei-li, do you still love?
If you don’t love, why do you hate?
Yet, if you still loved, the gaze in your eyes is unbearably cold.
‘Your Majesty, there is an urgent message from the palace. The lady of Xuesong Palace is unwell and her unborn child is in danger.’ A voice rang from beyond the cells, clear and lilting, carrying a hint of urgency.
Desperately, she tried to think about something else, anything unrelated. Only by doing so could she endure the suffocating anguish clawing at her heart.
He paled. His movements were quick, rapid. She stared at him. A swell of blood rose in her throat but she fought firmly to hold it back.
Finally, without saying another word, he left the cells.
Actually, she still had one question to ask, just one last question.
Tomorrow, during the sentence, will you come?
Straining her ears, she heard the faint sound of horses galloping away in the snow.
The Consort of Xuesong Palace… In the Imperial Harems, of the one Hall and four Palaces occupied by the Emperor’s five highest-ranking women, the Consort of Xuesong Palace was the last woman amongst them to be conferred a title.
During the seventeenth year of Long Fei-li’s reign, only when all was calm and peaceful – when the internal civil war had been quashed, when the foreign invaders had been conquered – did he confer that woman the title of his Imperial Consort.
So, all the struggles of the harem and all the politics of the court never embroiled nor involved that woman.
That was his most loved woman.
Xuanji coughed up more blood. Her head swam with giddiness and her abdomen clenched with pain. She felt the wetness of the blood that flowed from her but did not dare to look, afraid that she would be unable to withstand the horror. Clenching her jaw, she stood, pulling the white curtains which had been tossed onto the floor over her body, covering herself.
Footsteps approached.
‘I thank you for saving my life,’ Zhang Jin said, his throat tightening. His voice held the faint tremors of emotions, threatening to spill.
‘You don’t have to thank me. There is something I wished to ask you.’
Zhang Jin raised his head, his eyes falling on her two hands tightly clenched around the white curtains enveloping her body, and the silver of her exposed shoulder. Immediately, he lowered his gaze and said, ‘Please do say.’
‘That year, why did you sit for the imperial examinations?’
‘You may laugh, but I did it in order to serve the country.’
Xuanji smiled. ‘Actually, when the Emperor asked you that question, he already had the intention to spare you, and to warn you. There is nothing you can achieve by sticking to your principles, unless there comes a day where you are powerful enough to stand on your own.’
Zhang Jin stilled with shock, and he could not help but raise his head.
Nian Xuanji’s face was shockingly pale.
‘Don’t protest because of your pride, but for the country and her people.’
Cold sweat clung on his back. Zhang Jin kowtowed deeply on the floor, and said, ‘I will remember your words for the rest of my life.’
‘Could you still grant me a last request, and help me find a set of clothes?’
Zhang Jin’s house was located in the vicinity of the prisons. Madly, he raced back to his home, where he asked his wife, Madam Liu, for their newest set of robes, and then retrieved the big fur cloak which he had kept as a treasure, unwilling to wear even on himself.
‘What time is it now?’
‘Consort Nian, it is dawn.’
With the fall of his words, he was jolted back to reality himself.
The Emperor’s decrees had long been made known to even the lowliest prison guards.
Nian Xuanji was to be executed in the two hours following daybreak.
He was still trembling from the realisation of what was to come, but in the next moment, the thudding of a horse galloping to a stop preceded the sound of footsteps echoing in the still silence.
‘Seize the criminal!’
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