Chapter 82: Discourse and Duel

He moved closer to her, his face showing a hint of grievance. He glanced at the book in her hands—it was precisely the one he’d had someone send from the Upper Academy. In that instant, he felt as if he’d hoisted a rock only to drop it on his own foot.

“If you’re not tired yet, why don’t you read with me?” Xuexue tilted her head, responding at last to the king’s aggrieved expression.

“That’s an excellent suggestion.” The king responded swiftly; the next moment, Xuexue was pulled into his embrace, and the two appeared to be reading the same book together.

The atmosphere quieted. She was cradled in his arms, seated on his lap, her whole body nestled softly against him, as though he held her with a protector’s gentle devotion. The gesture did not embarrass or anger her, but it left her feeling somewhat ill at ease.

“Is something troubling you these past few days?” She couldn’t help but ask.

Ji Wuqing, still holding her delicate hand, pretended to turn a page, then replied, “Are you worried about me?” His chest vibrated with a hint of laughter, and he let out a pleased chuckle.

“Zuo Qiu Liye has yet to leave the Ji Kingdom, and the harem seems restless. If something is weighing on you, I can… I can share the burden with you.” Her tone was earnest, without the least bit of shyness.

After all, she was the one who had drawn Zuo Qiu Liye into this; how could she let him shoulder the trouble alone?

At her words, the big hand that had been holding hers paused. Then he rested his chin lightly atop her head, rubbing it gently. “I’m very happy to hear you say that, Xue’er. It comforts me more than you know. But you only need to be beautiful as a flower; the rest is nothing to worry about.”

Hearing such a boastful remark, Xuexue let out a small sigh.

“Then do your best,” she replied flatly, her tone noticeably cooler.

For some reason, she felt a trace of disappointment in her heart—a change in mood that arose for no apparent reason.

“I heard the Xiliang envoy came today,” Ji Wuqing said, hugging her a little tighter. His tone was gentle and soft, like a breeze on a summer day—pleasant and soothing.

Xuexue’s eyes shifted ever so slightly before she responded, “She’s very capable.” Though she was not yet certain what the envoy from Xiliang was scheming.

“I didn’t know you could praise others, Xue’er,” the king replied sourly. “Is she better than your husband?”

“There’s no comparison,” Xuexue sighed. This man’s temperament could change at a moment’s notice—truly childish.

“So you mean your husband is not as good as she?” Ji Wuqing narrowed his eyes, and a dangerous air emanated from above her head.

Xuexue’s response was to sit up, withdrawing her hand from his and preparing to leave his lap. But before her feet could touch the floor, Ji Wuqing looped his arm around her and drew her back into his embrace.

“What are you doing? Disgusted with your king already?” His tone was petulant, his face clouded, looking every bit the abandoned child reproaching a heartless lover.

Xuexue arched her brows, her expression calm. Then she turned to face him, and at last, she pressed her hand firmly against his lips.

“Don’t speak.”

Predictably, Ji Wuqing obeyed, but then he moved his lips and took her fingertip into his mouth, his actions unmistakably teasing. She withdrew her hand as though scalded.

“My hand… my hand just touched the book—it’s not clean.” She subconsciously rubbed her fingers against his sleeve.

But to Ji Wuqing, it looked as though she were wiping away his kiss.

He pressed his forehead to hers in protest, rubbing gently, his deep eyes lifting with a hint of dissatisfaction. He looked at her intently, her delicate features reflected in his gaze.

Feeling the seriousness in his eyes, she broke the silence. “Perhaps the Xiliang envoy has ulterior motives, but I feel she bears no malice…”

She hadn’t finished her sentence when his lips pressed softly against her bangs, then her forehead, the warmth gentle and intoxicating despite its distance.

The sensation was rather pleasant…

After the kiss, she leaned gently against his chest, her cheek pressed to his heart. In that moment, she wanted only to rest quietly in his arms, the whole world falling into peace and stillness.

“Your bangs need trimming—they get in the way,” the king remarked.

She nudged his chest in protest.

The street outside was empty. By the moonlight, she entered the inn. Feiyi and Qingshu hurried up to greet her. “Young Mistress, you’ve finally returned.” They gathered round her, faces worried.

“Is something wrong?” she asked indifferently, her purple robe lending her an air of unspoken nobility in the moonlight.

She still held her long flute, the silver beads on her wrist chain swaying softly.

“It’s nothing—only that you were out so late, we grew worried,” Qingshu replied.

“There’s nothing to worry about; if you must worry, worry for others.” She ascended the stairs, her expression cool, revealing her mood was not good. Even returning safely from the royal palace of Ji Kingdom, she felt only a faint emptiness.

Just then, Yunwu approached from the other side. “Young Mistress, the lord wishes to see you.” He addressed Gongshen Linger respectfully, his face betraying nothing.

“So late, and he’s still looking for me?” Gongshen Linger walked straight to her room, showing no intention of seeing Zuo Qiu Liye. Her mood was poor today, and she didn’t wish to deal with him. If they quarreled now, it would only be a loss for both.

“So you do know how late it is?” A cold snort came from behind. Zuo Qiu Liye stood there in a brown robe, his gaze icy.

His long hair was unbound, lending his delicate features a touch of seductive allure. His fox-like eyes, bright as plum blossoms blooming at night, shone with a clear and striking beauty.

“Well, it’s the lord himself. Can’t sleep so late? Did you nap too much in the day, so now you seek trouble with me?” Gongshen Linger turned to him, her cold gaze lacking the slightest respect—if anything, it was openly provocative.

Qingshu, Feiyi, and Yunwu all lowered their heads, not daring to look at Zuo Qiu Liye, afraid to witness something they shouldn’t.

“You may all withdraw,” Zuo Qiu Liye said, his eyes still fixed on Gongshen Linger, who met his gaze without fear. Silent sparks seemed to fly between them.

The three attendants did not dare delay and hurriedly left the corridor.

“If you have nothing urgent, I’ll retire for the night. I caught a chill in the wind and have a headache,” she said, pointing to her head with her flute, a gesture of polite retreat.

“So, things haven’t gone as you wished. That’s a relief.” Zuo Qiu Liye’s tone was not gloating, but it was certainly arrogant enough to provoke.

“Yes, the envoy from Xiliang rejected my offer. It seems your unparalleled charm doesn’t impress her,” Gongshen Linger shot back, refusing to yield.

“If you disrupt my plans, you know the consequences,” Zuo Qiu Liye ignored her taunt. “But then, why should I trouble myself over someone who’s lost her soul?”

With that, he turned and entered his own room.

“Hmph.” Gongshen Linger snorted and entered her chamber as well.

Who would have thought she’d be outmaneuvered by a mere envoy? It was a humiliation beyond words.

“Miss Gongshen, you overestimate yourself. I never said I’d help you, or the Dance Kingdom, or him. Why should I?” she thought.

The next day, word spread that the ruler of the Dance Kingdom had entered the palace again, sipping tea and playing chess with the king.

That day, Xuexue happened to be in the study at the Upper Academy. Surrounded by books, her slender fingers traced this volume and that, but she could not settle on the one she truly wanted.

In the study where state affairs were handled, Ji Wuqing received Zuo Qiu Liye—separated from Xuexue by only a single wall.

“How is the queen’s health? I’ve been quite concerned,” Zuo Qiu Liye said, holding a black stone. He glanced up at Ji Wuqing, his eyes filled with provocation and a trace of ambiguity.

“That depends entirely on my word,” Ji Wuqing replied, placing a white stone on the board—his robe as dark as ink, untouched by dust, his handsome face gentle, his gaze full of love and indulgence for the queen.

“That reminds me,” Zuo Qiu Liye said, unbothered, though a glint of malice flashed in his fox-like eyes, “I once played a game of Go with a lady—a rather interesting contest.”

“No rush,” Ji Wuqing replied, unhurried as ever, setting down another white stone. “The proper thing is to finish this game first.”

“King Ji, you’re right. Life is like this board—if you want a swift victory, someone must yield. Otherwise, it’s a fight to the bitter end.” Zuo Qiu Liye’s crimson lips curled in a subtle, bloodthirsty smile.

Ji Wuqing continued, calmly placing his pieces. “You’re wrong, King of Dance. In chess, what matters isn’t the outcome, but the pleasure of watching your opponent’s futile struggle. In the end, there’s only one word—victory.”

Eyes lowered, he studied the board intently, as though speaking of the chess match alone.

Zuo Qiu Liye made no reply, a cold snort escaping his blood-red lips. Was this man trying to provoke him? Not so easily.

Elsewhere, Xuexue finally found a book she desired. Turning its pages, she walked slowly out of the study, making her way to Ji Wuqing’s side.