Chapter 9: Burning Bones and Scorching Marrow

It came upon him with breathtaking speed, catching him utterly unprepared. Its smooth body, soft as silk, pressed close; those arms and slender legs wrapped around him like a vine entwining a tree, clinging and drilling tightly. She squeezed his neck so hard he could barely breathe, his handsome face flushed red. If it were only this, given his martial skill, he could have easily thrown her off. But, curse it, Yudai Dai seemed to have turned feral. Each move was both precise and swift; once she had locked herself around him, she instantly thrust out her tongue.

That vivid, tender tongue darted in—had it merely been a kiss, he could have shaken her off. But this woman, suddenly as wild as a beast, was now shoving her tongue with all her strength down his throat! He had no doubt: if her tongue were any longer, she’d continue, and he’d become the first emperor in history murdered by his own empress’s tongue.

What humiliation!

When Ji Ye, in a fury, shouted, “Yudai Dai, how dare you!” the four female attendants and Li Fuquan, waiting outside, heard the commotion within—only a beaded curtain and four layers of drapery separated them.

“Your Majesty, do you have instructions?” Li Fuquan asked from beyond the pearl curtain, his expression unchanged.

The four attendants exchanged glances and broke into delighted smiles, the stone in their hearts finally falling away. Their mistress had awoken; their lives were safe now. Amitabha.

A heavy thud sounded, as if something substantial had fallen, then came the faint sound of water. Li Fuquan immediately understood, straightened, and with a cheerful smile, bowed to Qiu Yun and the others: “Congratulations, harmony reigns between the Emperor and Empress. You ladies may rest easy tonight.”

“Congratulations to you as well,” Qiu Yun replied gracefully, bowing in return, joined by the other three.

Inside, the commotion grew; the smacking and sucking sounds grew wild and unabashed, stirring the imagination. Li Fuquan was used to it—wherever the emperor went to favor a consort, he followed, guarding the door, his ears full of women’s moans and sighs. But the four female attendants, all unmarried, endured these lascivious sounds with remarkable composure, drawing curious glances.

Xia Ji blushed faintly, eyes lowered; Dong Cang’s delicate face grew even more taut; Chun Mo straightened her spine and raised her chin; the most indifferent was Qiu Yun, whose eyes were as calm as dead water, like one who had transcended desire and was ready for monastic life.

Each was dignified and poised.

Compared to them, Rong He and Feng He of Jade Radiance Palace, Hong Die and Lü Die of Yongle Palace, seemed lacking.

Li Fuquan silently admired them, thinking they truly lived up to their noble heritage. But, alas, with such a mistress, their prospects were uncertain—what a pity.

This was his view as a servant; to his own master, whose fierce ambition was masked by calm, Yudai Dai was a crack in a golden egg, a black spot on fine porcelain—her presence offered opportunity.

Behind the veil, the scene was thus: a stunningly beautiful woman pressed down upon a well-dressed man, deeply kissing him, his mouth agape, unable to close it, suffocated and rolling his eyes.

The dragon crown lay askew on the white rug, a jade hairpin broken in three, black hair spread across the floor. Ignoring his pitiful state, the scene might have been one of exquisite passion.

But one was muddled by fever, the other oxygen-starved; though their mouths met as if in a kiss, neither felt passion.

Her tongue in his mouth brought no sweetness, only scorching heat.

What he held in his arms was not soft jade, but a furnace.

The heat was not the intoxicating friction of lovers, but true, burning heat.

Holding her was like standing under the blazing summer sun—sweat poured out, soaking his clothes and hair. Naked, his little beast of an empress let her sweat drip on his face and neck.

Double the heat, gasping for breath, his life nearly forfeit.

At last, as their body temperatures matched, the ice before Qing Dai’s eyes melted into hot water. She decisively withdrew her tongue, scrambled up, stepped on something with a crunch and a pained hiss—no matter, nothing could stop her from cooling down now.

Following instinct, sniffing for coolness, her graceful figure pressed against the chill of the hanging veil, flitting within the tent. Her hands and feet seemed not her own; she stumbled into a pillar, hurting her forehead, and in a fit of wildness, bit into it, tearing a hole, then plunged her head inside and twisted her body until, in no time, she had wrapped herself up completely.

Her hands and feet were covered, but she did not mind; she never relied on them to move. In fact, limbs only slowed her down, a nuisance, a burden.

Ji Ye coughed several times before steadying himself. He looked up, his face darkening, fists clenched in a sign of lost patience.

From prince to emperor, raised in gold and jade, domineering and proud, possessive to the bone—those gentle, talented, compassionate traits were but the result of years of classical study.

When provoked enough to shed that facade, no matter emperor or beggar, his true nature emerged: cursing, scolding, disciplining women.

Who claimed this emperor was kind to his harem? When it came to his empress, he was at his wit’s end!

“Yudai Dai, stop feigning madness. Tonight, I’ll teach you a lesson!” No matter your father and brother’s power, I… But he swallowed the rest.

With a few swift steps, he scooped up the crimson bundle from the floor and tossed it onto the bed.

Beneath the half-hanging palace lantern, shadows appeared on the final layer of curtain—the tall, handsome one must be the emperor, and the figure slung across his shoulder, surely the empress.

When did the emperor treat his empress with such ardor?

Qiu Yun saw the shadow on the curtain and bit her tongue in surprise, utterly unsure what was happening inside, torn between rushing in or waiting.

The emperor’s angry shout sounded genuine.

But how could it be? The emperor’s harshest gesture toward her lady was merely a dismissive glance—never true anger. The strangest thing was: her lady loved the emperor deeply, though she threw tantrums, she never dared provoke his wrath.

Tonight, what had her lady done to push the emperor so far?

Not only she, but Li Fuquan was full of doubt. After hesitating, he called out, “Your Majesty, any instructions?”

“Leave!”

The furious reply made Li Fuquan’s heart tremble; he dared not disturb their “business” any longer.

Lifting her high, he threw her onto the bed with a thud—a solid body met the mattress, painfully.

Facing away from Ji Ye, dizzy, she opened her eyes, fever still raging within, now her bones and flesh ached unbearably.

“Help…” she whimpered, tongue lolling in pitiful plea.

“Help? Where does it hurt? Should I massage it for you?” His cold eyes brimmed with malice. Roughly tearing the red veil from her body, he glanced around, grabbed the porcelain pillow, and brought it down hard on her raised buttocks, showing no mercy.

Pain struck, yet strangely eased the burning in her bones; she moaned and whimpered, a sudden blossom of seductive charm in her brows.

Habitually, she stuck out her tongue, wriggling beneath his hand, rubbing her head against his thigh, “Good man, please save me.”

Her round, fragrant hips arched high before him, her waist swaying gracefully. His head surged with heat, and, without hesitation, he struck again with the porcelain pillow.

A nasal hum, as if she enjoyed it.

A bound, naked beauty, alluring sounds swirling; his eyes reddened, and he lost control, smacking her three, four, five, six—dozens? He didn’t count, a twisted satisfaction rising within.

On a whim, he tossed aside the pillow, gripped with both hands, and continued smacking, like beating a drum, though no drum ever offered such sensation.

“Mm, mm, good man, keep going, don’t stop.” She shook her hips, her face relaxing in pleasure.

He looked at her, suddenly as if he didn’t recognize her—the features still Yudai Dai, but the charm entirely different.

Yudai Dai was beautiful, but lacked true character; in this harem full of beauties, many outshone her. Yet now, within the bed’s embrace, he felt his throat dry, his tailbone softening.

She looked at him, grateful for his help easing her pain, and gave him a sincere smile. Her eyes glanced sideways, lashes trembling, a seductive aura blooming.

Her full red lips begged to be kissed.

In that moment, he realized with regret that he was, after all, just an ordinary man among many—overcome by beauty, his desire surged within his trousers.

It wasn’t love, but the allure of her graceful body.

Ji Ye was drenched in sweat; the Yudai woman was audacious, daring to use seductive arts against him!

Murderous intent flared. He seized her throat, voice cold: “Put away your seduction, or don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

Oh! The good man was now a villain—her snake life was doomed!

But she wasn’t ready to die; she gripped his wrists and bit down hard on the web between his thumb and forefinger.

Both hurt, and Ji Ye was forced to let go.

He shouted in anger, “Yudai Dai, you’re outrageous!”

His imperial authority radiated; Yudai Dai suddenly realized—he was the Divine King. If she offended him, would he settle the score when he ascended? A poor little demon like her could be obliterated with a flick of his sleeve.

Those who know their place live longest; she quickly put on a sycophantic smile, bowed like a subject, and clung to his waist, refusing to let go.

Perhaps every demon harbors a deep desire to seduce a god; though she bowed in submission, she longed to drag the god down with beauty.

She had admired the nine-tailed fox who destroyed the Shang dynasty and made the Divine King relinquish his throne. For ages, that nine-tailed fox was the model for all demons.

“Yudai Dai, what are you groping? Stop it! Shameless!”

She giggled, a haze of demon energy swirling around her.

Rubbing against his thigh, her soft hand slipped into his chest, her cherry mouth tugged at his collar, slowly pulling it open. Her eyes never rested, glancing at him, scattering a handful of peach blossoms, a handful of seduction.

Oh, little demon, seducing men was truly her talent.

Look, the emperor’s little dragon was secretly rising, drooling, trembling with hunger.

“My king, overturn Mount Wu, summon clouds and rain—what pleasure! What are you waiting for?”

“Little beast!”

He cursed, then pounced, kissing her wildly.

This was his empress—why shouldn’t he pierce her depths!

To favor her was his right.

But not like this—not because he yielded!

“Little beast, little beast!”

He bit her lips as he cursed, and she grew ever more ecstatic, clinging tighter.

Indeed, the Divine King was worthy of his title—even as a mortal, he saw through her true nature.

Little beast—yes, that’s what she was.

Ah, the Divine King even gave her a pet name; soon, she might surpass the nine-tailed fox as the pride of the demon realm.

Just as she felt seducing the Divine King made her bones stop hurting, the man kissing and biting her suddenly fled.

Oh, Divine King, don’t leave—after thunder and lightning, shouldn’t we *enjoy* ourselves?

Staring at the torn veil, she stretched languidly on the bed, her eyes brimming with seductive light.

The room was silent; she pinched her unfamiliar arms and legs, ten fingers interlaced, bending them one by one against her hand, soft and pliable as if boneless.

This body was now entirely hers, yet she could no longer summon wind or rain.

The great demon lay on the bedding, dejected, and soon drifted into soft snores. When Qiu Yun and the four attendants ventured in, they found their mistress completely naked, with a blood-red handprint on her fragrant hips.

Chun Mo’s eyes widened, muttering, “Beast!”

Their mistress on the bed was “a sight too tragic to behold.” Qiu Yun was shocked, frozen for a moment before rushing to cover her with a brocade quilt.

“I’ll fetch the ointment,” Xia Ji said, tearful, and hurried away.

Dong Cang clenched her teeth. “This must be reported to Madam.”

“Not wise. Our mistress is grown now, with her own opinions. Matters this private between husband and wife should be left for her to decide. If she enjoyed it, and we spread news back to her family, she’d be mortified.”

“Then let’s wait until mistress wakes tomorrow,” Dong Cang said sternly.

“Agreed,” Chun Mo replied.