Chapter 20: The Obsessive, Lustful Hostage Prince and the Doted-Upon, Wayward Princess (20)
“Ugh!”
The spiked whip whipped through the fierce wind and slammed the young man to the ground. His dark gray palace robe was torn, revealing sun-kissed skin stained with blood.
Bright, glaring blood trickled down his muscles, pooling into a winding dark stream that slowly seeped into the thick felt carpet beneath.
In an instant, the entire carpet changed color.
Shu Yao lay sideways on the soft couch, her left leg bent, a crystal-clear grape held between her teeth.
The boy’s painful groans mingled with the music played by the court musician. Shu Yao narrowed her eyes, intoxicated by the sound.
The eunuch wielded the long whip, targeting the boy’s vital points with each strike, cursing obscenely under his breath.
Shen Jingmu’s body was covered in whip marks; his emerald eyes flashed fiercely for a moment, but he quickly masked it perfectly.
His submissive demeanor only encouraged the eunuch to increase the force of the blows.
“What kind of creature are you? You’ve angered the princess; losing your miserable dog life is well deserved!”
“Quiet! Don’t disturb the princess’s rest.”
Smack!
Another brutal dozen lashes rained down. Shen Jingmu curled up on the ground, unable to move. The fiery pain from his torn flesh made it impossible to open his eyes.
His consciousness grew hazy; the scent of blood mixed with the aroma of wine filled his nostrils. His pale lips pressed into a rigid line from the agony.
Only when the system warned that the vicious antagonist’s self-destructive score had passed halfway did Shu Yao finally signal to stop.
Chewing on the grape, Shu Yao spoke casually, “Enough, stop beating him.”
The eunuch immediately ceased, bowing respectfully as he stepped aside.
Shen Jingmu lay prone, his breath faint.
“If you really killed him, there’d be no more fun.”
Shu Yao rose from the couch, stepping softly across the plush carpet to his side, crouching down.
Her slender fingers gently lifted the boy’s chin. Gazing at his pale, sharp features, she let out a soft laugh.
“Does it hurt?”
Shen Jingmu lifted his eyelids, unable to make out her face, only the crimson lips moving, seemingly mocking his plight.
“G-go... go away...”
A weak voice escaped his lips.
Shu Yao raised an eyebrow, her fingers brushing a drop of blood from his brow.
“Don’t be angry.”
Her fingers slowly traced his eyelashes with tender care.
She sighed, “Your face just doesn’t look good when you’re mad.”
The eunuchs and maids wisely withdrew outside the hall.
The boy’s features were stern and strikingly handsome. Of Liao descent, he stood out conspicuously among the crowd.
His emerald eyes were like a deep pool—calm and serene on the surface, but turbulent storms roiled beneath.
Shu Yao deliberately leaned closer, then even closer, exposing her neck to him.
Shen Jingmu glanced upward. The woman was draped in sheer silk, her exposed skin a luminous milky white, her neck slender and long.
He instinctively curled his fingers into a grasping motion.
With his strength, breaking her neck would be effortless.
No...
Not yet...
The time is not right.
His fingers clenched then relaxed. The boy lay back on the floor, allowing the woman to press down on him.
She was so light, so soft.
Their skin pressed tightly together, as if igniting a fire—burning, unbearable heat.
The scent of roses flooded his nostrils wildly, tickling his throat and causing dizziness.
He instinctively tried to pull back but was gripped by the nape and pressed forward fiercely.
“What are you hiding from?”
Their noses nearly touched. Shen Jingmu had never had physical contact with any woman before; his ears flushed red again.
His eyes trembled; at such close range, he could clearly see the fine fuzz on her face.
“Princess, please show some respect.”
Smack!
A heavy slap struck his face. Shen Jingmu pulled at his lips, savoring the fiery pain.
Strangely, the pain in his whip-lashed body seemed to dull, leaving only the sting on his face.
Shu Yao spoke slowly, enunciating each word.
“What are you, that you deserve the princess’s respect?”
She curled her lips into a smile and lightly tapped his cheek, teasing him like a playful cat owner.
“Go, fetch me some hot water to wash my feet.”
Wash... feet?
Shen Jingmu nearly thought he misheard, but the woman’s smile was genuine, not joking.
Ha, not afraid I’ll just break her foot?
He lowered his lashes, replying respectfully, “Yes, Your Highness.”
After half an incense stick’s time, Shen Jingmu returned carrying a rosewood basin, pushing open the hall door.
He knelt by the bed, speaking softly, “Your Highness, the hot water is ready.”
Shu Yao hummed in response, lifting her foot into the basin. Her brows furrowed immediately, and she curled her instep to splash hot water into the boy’s face.
“Are you trying to scald me to death?”
Water droplets splattered onto Shen Jingmu’s face; he tilted his head, his tongue impatiently pressing against his jaw.
His falling black hair shielded his fierce expression. The boy bowed his head obediently, “I will add some cold water, Your Highness.”
He rose to fetch a pot and poured in some cold water.
Reaching into the basin, he carefully tested the temperature. Satisfied, he whispered, “Your Highness, the water is just right.”
Only then did Shu Yao stretch her foot fully into the basin, ceasing her defiance.
Shen Jingmu lowered his gaze, gently cupping her delicate feet with his large hands.
He suddenly realized how small her feet were—one hand could easily envelop them.
So fragile that even a little pressure left red marks.
Are women’s feet really this tender?
His palms, calloused from years of archery, tingled oddly as he held her feet.
Unable to bear the ticklish sensation, Shu Yao instinctively pulled her foot back. The next moment, the boy grasped her ankle firmly.
“Ah.”
Shu Yao gasped in surprise. Shen Jingmu bent over, his voice hoarse.
“The water is just right. Princess, please enjoy.”
He deliberately increased the pressure, his calloused skin scraping against her soles repeatedly.
Shu Yao squirmed, retreating again and again, regretting forcing this wolf cub to wash her feet.
“How dare you! I told you to be gentle!”
She angrily reached out, intending to slap him.
Shen Jingmu easily caught her wrist, his damp palm pressing firmly against her wrist bone as he rubbed gently.
“Please don’t be angry, Princess. It’s my first time washing someone’s feet; my technique is a bit rough. I’ll get better with practice.”
A secret smile curved his lips, a gleam of vengeful delight in his eyes.
He had finally found this spoiled princess’s weakness:
She was ticklish...
The hot water cascaded over the protruding bones, rippling again and again in the wooden basin.
The atmosphere grew strange, involuntarily stirring memories of that night by the bath.
Large clusters of rose petals had shielded her smooth, ample body—so white it dazzled, so fragrant it was almost overwhelming.
At that moment, he had wondered just how soft she must be.
His heart stirred faintly, his throat tightening painfully. He swallowed with difficulty, his gaze lifting to rest on Shu Yao’s angry face.
Whether from the intense heat within the hall or some other cause, a delicate flush tinted her cheeks and the corners of her eyes.
She glared at him furiously, her eyes seeming to want to tear him apart a thousand times over.
But honestly... it barely hurt at all.
Angry?
Better if she got angrier.
Such a gaze sparked a terrifying desire for cruelty in his heart.
He so badly wanted to...
Finish her off.