Volume One, Chapter Two: Tonight, Shall I Claim You?

When Ye Fusang was led out of the prison by Zang Qing, her lips remained pale as she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glaring sunlight. She leaned motionless against a nearby pillar.

Seeing this, Zang Qing went inside and called out Jing Zhi.

Ye Fusang felt a tremor run through her body, her brows darkening slightly as she glanced at her left wrist, where a vermilion, jade-like blue moon glowed.

Sure enough, it was the Blue Moon that had swallowed the Starflower.

She had died an untimely death precisely because she stole this Blue Moon. Ji Yan, the killing god, spared no one around him. Because of this matter, eight carriages at the crossroads crashed into her alone.

Counting this life, she was now living for the third time.

Thinking this, Ye Fusang exhaled calmly.

The Blue Moon was indeed a cursed treasure, capable of absorbing things, and must not fall into the wrong hands.

Jing Zhi reluctantly shuffled forward. He glanced disdainfully at Ye Fusang. “You want me to carry him back?”

“Otherwise, should I carry him? He’s as light as a paper doll anyway,” Zang Qing raised an eyebrow slightly.

Ye Fusang was only sixteen now, and compared to her peers, she truly looked like a malnourished pale-faced boy, her features too delicate and faint.

After Zang Qing left, Jing Zhi just stood there gaping. After a while, he crouched down reluctantly. “Get on.”

Ye Fusang asked, “What year is it in Shangxi now?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“I forgot how old I am,” Ye Fusang replied perfunctorily.

Unexpectedly, Jing Zhi looked at her with a sudden pang of sympathy. “Year fifty-eight of Shangxi.”

A flicker of dark ripples passed through Ye Fusang’s eyes. It had only been ten years since her death.

“All right, get on quickly.”

She climbed up, and Jing Zhi sprang up, flying swiftly through the air.

Ye Fusang felt the rushing wind by her ear and closed her phoenix-like eyes gently.

Ten years ago, Ning even stabbed her through the heart with the sword she had given him, all for the position of Pavilion Master of the Tianji Pavilion.

Those who divined the world needed calm hearts; everything was predestined. She was not a person ruled by hatred, nor did she have the carefree justice common among martial artists.

In this life, it seemed heaven had pity on her, allowing her to survive a few more years. No matter who sat as Pavilion Master, as long as the people of Tianji Pavilion were safe, and her brother was well, that was enough.

She was not a man and could not serve as a favored companion. She needed to find a chance to escape from the Long Princess’s mansion.

Upon arrival at the Long Princess’s mansion, Jing Zhi hastily threw Ye Fusang to the ground and rushed off.

Ye Fusang clung to the stone lion at the mansion’s gate, lying in the sunlight and finally feeling some warmth. She knocked on the door, but no one answered.

Two hours later, a graceful figure in pink with a face like peach blossoms approached. The person’s eyebrows were deep and defined, exuding a seductive, passionate aura. Long black hair trailed down to the ankles.

“Little brother, so young and already serving as a favored companion?” The person immediately groped Ye Fusang with a flirtatious smile.

Just as Ye Fusang was captivated by this enchanting beauty, she suddenly clamped the hand of the young attendant, snatched the purse from him—it contained a few copper coins, her only belongings now—and said, “Big brother, you really have no sense of morality.”

Ji Rongxue was completely unembarrassed, twisting her hips in a flirtatious laugh. “The prince said you’re a godly thief incarnate, so he threw you into the prince’s mansion. I’m just testing the waters.”

Ye Fusang raised an eyebrow. She had indeed learned thievery in her previous life, but how did Chu Ye know?

“If you dare to steal from the prince, I respect you as a man,” Ji Rongxue said admiringly.

Hearing this, Ye Fusang understood—this was truly a wrongful charge. The flower in the water last night wasn’t stolen by her.

But... what secret did the original body harbor? Its blood could alleviate the fourteen chills. Such a special bloodline should not have been born in a household like the Ye family’s.

Ye Fusang said nothing, only allowing Ji Rongxue to lead her to a carved pavilion.

First, she gave her a delicate bath, then dressed her in plain white robes before bringing her inside.

Around the carved windows hung various famous calligraphy and paintings. Among them, a painting of the sunrise over Fusang glowed under the flickering palace lanterns, the interplay of light and shadow adding an ancient, mysterious aura.

Chu Yang lay reclined on a couch, dressed in teal-green sleepwear. The pearl curtains swayed gently with the breeze, letting in slivers of faint light.

“Come here…”

The woman’s voice was less commanding than in the prison, tinged with a hint of allure.

Ye Fusang moved slowly forward.

“You didn’t look so good in the prison, but after washing up, you have a different charm.” The woman’s slender, pale fingers gently brushed Ye Fusang’s pale face.

Her enchanting, playful eyes reflected in Ye Fusang’s own. She could feel the stirring hands on her body, swallowing hard.

Chu Yang touched her neck lightly. “Still a virgin, even your Adam’s apple is so shallow? —But I rather like your scent.”

A faint orchid fragrance lingered around Chu Yang’s breath.

She suddenly pulled Ye Fusang into her embrace, pressing her onto the couch. Supporting her own head with one hand, she pinned Ye Fusang beneath her side, her long hair cascading like a waterfall over Ye Fusang’s body.

Though this was her third life, Ye Fusang had never been treated so intimately, especially not by another woman.

“Tonight, I want you, is that alright?”

Ye Fusang’s eyes instantly widened like copper bells. Just as she tried to push herself up, Chu Yang pressed her down again. “What? —You dare to disdain me?”

“No, I don’t...” The warm breath beside her felt sticky and suffocating. Ye Fusang dared not move an inch, afraid a kiss might fall. How could a woman be so beguiling?

“Hmph...” Chu Yang snorted coldly and threw Ye Fusang off the couch. “I prefer strong men, but you’re still young. I can’t enjoy myself yet; I’ll nurture you a while longer.”

“What did you see last night?” The woman’s voice was clear and jade-like, with a teasing undertone.

Though thrown to the ground and looking a little embarrassed, Ye Fusang was relieved to hear a serious question at last.

The Long Princess Qingwu in her memory was arrogant and overbearing, fond of seizing men by force, taking whoever she desired. The newly ascended young emperor had no real power and was a sister’s man.

“The prince was probably looking for a medicine last night. Looks like he was injured,” Ye Fusang said, lowering her eyes, half-truth and half-lie.

“Your imperial uncle isn’t so easy to fool. Why would he spare your life?” Chu Yang propped her chin on slender fingers, then suddenly stood and grabbed Ye Fusang’s chin, her eyes full of affection. “They say the imperial uncle is a ‘broken sleeve’—could it be he fancies you?”

“That’s not impossible…” Ye Fusang suddenly had an idea. She lowered her gaze and smiled faintly, a flush coloring her pale face. “Your Highness doesn’t know... I’m a ‘broken sleeve’ too!”

“My legitimate brother couldn’t bear it and forced me into the princess’s mansion, saying they’d cure my ‘broken sleeve’ problem.”

“You’d better cure that problem here in my Long Princess’s mansion.” Chu Yang’s charming smile turned cold at the last words. “What, can’t my mansion afford Ye Huo, the Great Buddha?”

“My legitimate brother doesn’t dislike Your Highness; he just thinks the title of prince consort is more fitting for him.” Ye Fusang’s expression was calm, but her thoughts flickered to the Ye household, pain flashing in her heart—the original’s silent lament.

The original had lived sixteen years bearing the stigma of a “false illegitimate son,” constantly fearful. Her birth mother doted on her younger brother, and her father treated her like dust.

Her short life was filled with beatings and humiliation. Last night, a crimson bridal sedan chair had become her grave.

Before leaving, her mother’s handmade lotus seed soup had moved her to tears. She thought going to the Long Princess’s mansion would be like facing hell, but little did she know that behind her, the last shred of familial love would be replaced by ever more deadly schemes.