Chapter 2: The Reckless Little Weapon.

The youth had a name—Guan Xuan. It was given to him personally by the Princess.

But as her only Shadow Guard, a name was superfluous. After all, aside from the Princess, no one else would ever need to address him.

The Princess did not like calling him Guan Xuan. More often, she called him Little Cat, as she did now.

Back when they lived in the palace, cats were everywhere. Calling out “Little Cat” casually wouldn’t raise any suspicion, so this nickname added a layer of secrecy and safety to their communication. Moreover, “Little Cat” was a common, lowly name anyone might use, unlike a name known only to the two of them, which might carry unintended implications. The Princess did not allow such implications to exist in their strictly defined relationship.

Little Cat stood before the lamp, watching his own shadow fall before him. He did not trust his shadow to appear behind him where he couldn’t see it, so whenever conditions allowed, he would always stand with his back to the light.

Zhao Rongzhang watched him quietly. Little Cat gestured, simply and silently recounting the process and outcome of the mission. He had failed; Young Master Xie was still alive. After finishing, he lifted his eyelashes and looked at Her Highness.

Failing was not good; it would lead to many complications. Zhao Rongzhang was somewhat surprised and somewhat displeased. But considering that the one who had countered this time was Ren Ping, the failure was understandable.

“Come here.”

Little Cat shifted his eyes. He stood in the spot where Ming Luo had just been, half a zhang away from Her Highness. He could not come any closer.

Zhao Rongzhang reclined obliquely. Seeing no reaction from him, her brows turned cold as she commanded, “Kneel, and come here.”

Little Cat obediently knelt. He was well-built, tall when standing, and the shadow of his shoulders cast down, wide enough to almost envelop her. Zhao Rongzhang did not like that. On his knees, it was much better. He crawled on his knees to the edge of her couch, within a distance where she could reach out and strike him.

The cat wore a half-mask year-round, leaving only his eyes fully exposed for sight. Judging by his eyes, he hadn’t changed much in these three years. As for the rest, she hadn’t seen it in these three years either, so there was no basis for comparison.

Zhao Rongzhang ordered him to remove his mask.

The cat reached for his mask, obediently finding the latch. Just as he was about to press it, his movement paused. He pressed it, and the Dark Iron Mask came off, heavy in his hand. The terrifying beast face carved on the mask protruded against his palm, its fangs sharp. He lowered his eyelashes deeply, as low as they could go. His eyes looked at his own face.

The light from the candle flame carried warmth. The cat knelt before the candle, his back warmed by the light. Zhao Rongzhang examined his face, half-hidden in shadow.

Fair and delicate. Zhao Rongzhang had been favored for sixteen years. Her mother was Consort Ling, the most beloved concubine in the six palaces. She was the Emperor’s only princess, the most noble princess of Great Zhou. The beautiful treasures of this world, whether natural or exquisitely crafted, were countless, and she had seen them all. This face could rank among the first tier of such beauties.

Exquisitely handsome. Even the small mole on the left side of his nose bridge, which should have been a flaw, seemed captivating and intriguing because of these eyes that seemed as if they could take flight.

Zhao Rongzhang reached out, and he blinked violently. She pinched his face, sat up, and looked down, admiring the sight of his face being forced upward. She applied a bit of force, and the cat opened his mouth.

A set of snow-white, neatly aligned teeth. The tongue surface was clean, red, and tender, with no coating. Zhao Rongzhang recalled the first day she obtained this killing tool—even through the heavy curtain of rain, she could smell the fishy, filthy stench emanating from him. Sitting beneath the corridor, she disgustedly ordered him to open his mouth to reply. He knelt with a sword pressed against him, breathing heavily but unable to make a sound. Only then did she realize he was originally mute.

Zhao Rongzhang pinched his chin and turned it toward the light, adjusting the angle. It was too dark; she still couldn’t see all his teeth clearly. She didn’t want to dirty her hands. “Give me the knife.”

Little Cat drew the Sleeve Blade, gripping the blade halfway, and handed the hilt to the Princess. The Princess casually picked up the knife, its edge leaving a bloody wound across his palm lines. He remembered the tongue he had torn out the last time—after pulling it out, that person bled profusely, so he stuffed the tongue back in. Even after stuffing it back, the bleeding didn’t stop.

If blood gushed out, would it dirty the Princess?

The hard iron tool entered his mouth, pressing against the molars deep within. Saliva began to secrete uncontrollably; he couldn’t swallow at this moment, so he tilted his head back further.

The cold, sharp tip of the blade lazily traced each tooth, the clear clinking sound reverberating inside his mouth. Guan Xuan dug his fingers into the fangs on his mask.

“They’ve all grown in,” the Princess said with satisfaction as she withdrew the knife. Three years ago, baby teeth would still fall out of his mouth, but now every new tooth had grown firmly. The blade was dripping with transparent mucus. The Princess frowned, disgusted, and tossed it aside, releasing her grip on his face.

The Princess didn’t hit him, didn’t cut out his tongue, and didn’t pry out his teeth. Guan Xuan swallowed the saliva that had cooled in his mouth and looked at the discarded knife. But the Princess picked up several scrolls and brought them before him, tossing them into his arms, interrupting his gaze.

Guan Xuan gathered them up, looking at the vibrant colors on the scrolls.

Stupid. Zhao Rongzhang slumped her shoulders and waist, drank the last few sips of cold tea left in the cup, and without even lifting her eyebrows, said, “From today onward, you will serve me in detoxifying.”

Guan Xuan looked up at her. The Princess’s face was expressionless.

Guan Xuan gestured a couple of times: “I don’t know how to make medicine.”

“Take a good look at the pictures.”

Guan Xuan lowered his gaze to the scrolls.

After finishing the tea, Zhao Rongzhang felt restless and irritable from the heat toxin. She threw off the satin blanket, leaned against the pillow, and casually picked up a scroll to skim through.

Even within the palace, few knew that the toxin she carried from birth was of this kind. The late emperor found it filthy and always avoided discussing it. Zhao Jue knew about it and, in the past, would look at her with disdain. Now that he had ascended the throne, he used it to coerce her, keeping her firmly in his grasp. It was unclear whether what he feared was her or her infant brother still in swaddling clothes.

So, after learning that the first consort he had chosen for her had died violently in the street, he guessed she was about to break ties and immediately disbanded the Herb Gathering Department, cutting off her supply of medicine. He thought that without the medicine, aside from marrying as ordered, she had no other path to take.

Pathetically foolish. Women have given birth to generations of people; they are the mothers of the world, and the world should be grateful that women possess the desire to reproduce. Zhao Rongzhang felt no aversion to having this desire far exceeding that of ordinary people. She firmly believed that only desire and ambition could make one truly live. The only concern was that if she couldn’t control it autonomously, it would enslave her instead.

Her thinking differed from theirs. What she wanted was control, not suppression.

Zhao Rongzhang tossed aside the scroll and leaned forward to look at Little Cat. Little Cat lifted his head from the painting adorned with fresh leaves and red flowers, his expression still resembling that of a true animal. Dull-witted. Capable of thought, yet devoid of true intellect, forever unable to comprehend.

Zhao Rongzhang sat on the edge of the bed, her feet resting loosely on the footrest. She reached out to cradle the back of his head, drawing him toward her abdomen.

Guan Xuan was forced to shift his knees forward again, his kneecaps knocking against the footrest. His arms and shoulders brushed against the princess’s gauze-covered legs. He realized this was a completely forbidden proximity. His dark, wide eyes gazed up at her with worry and confusion.

Zhao Rongzhang smiled faintly.

If Little Cat were merely a pet, he would still be an excellent one. More attuned to human nature than a real cat or dog, yet not as detestable as an actual person. Now, it was even better—he was first and foremost her weapon, capable of killing almost all those she despised. Secondly, he could be her pet, her plaything. As a pet, he brought her pleasure; as a plaything, he allowed her to act without restraint.

Zhao Jue had confined her to the Princess’s Mansion under the pretext of filial impiety, leaving many things beyond her reach and many desires unfulfilled. The playthings available to her were few. If they were spies planted by rival factions, if they were treacherous creatures who might turn against her and harm her in the bedchamber, if they were filthy beings carrying hidden diseases within their organs… she refused to bear such risks.

Only Little Cat, who couldn’t even cry out, was raised by her own hands. His docility was one she permitted to grow fangs and claws. That heavy rain had washed away all the filth and bloodstains of his past. From then on, every piece of clothing he wore, every bite of meat he ate, every sip of water he drank—all were bestowed by her. He himself was already cleaner than many things.

“You may suck, you may lick, but you must not bite.” The princess spoke with patience and tolerance, the smile in her eyes more aptly described as affectionate than gentle. “Be bolder. If you do well, I will reward you.”

Guan Xuan looked at the thin, plain silk covering the princess’s lower abdomen. After snowfall in winter, when he saw the morning light spill over the accumulated snow, he felt warmth. The candlelight upon the silk was like warm sunlight upon snow. The princess smiled down, beckoning him closer, like a deity guiding him to kneel before her, receiving her benevolent forgiveness and grace. Both the deity and her image felt warm to him as he gazed up from such close proximity.

The face covering slipped onto the footrest. Obediently, Guan Xuan gripped the edge of the bed, leaned forward, and buried his mouth and nose into the soft silk. Fulfilling every command of the princess was a mission and habit etched into his bones, the most natural thing in the world. He saw no difference between this command and any other.

Warm, moist, and soft, with a wondrous structure. Through the silk, he licked open a plump seam.

His scalp was abruptly tugged by the princess, and Guan Xuan lifted his head. The princess then relaxed her grip. She seemed surprised by his cleverness, how quickly he had understood. The smile in her eyes grew hazy with satisfaction.

Guan Xuan continued to serve diligently, soon soaking the entire piece of plain silk. To better indulge, the princess spread her gauze-covered legs wider on either side of the bed, occasionally tightening them in an irregular rhythm. This unexpected loss of control, unforeseen by both, made the princess’s breaths light and melodious. Guan Xuan sensed her satisfaction and focused even more intently, the sticky warmth seeping through the silk into his mouth.

Soon the Princess lost control to a certain extent, suddenly wrapping her legs around his head. The cool skin beneath the gauze pressed tightly against his face and neck, while Guan Xuan still sucked on the silk cloth that was so saturated it seemed to drip. The movements within grew even more forceful. He looked up expectantly yet puzzled at the Princess, who had already slumped weakly against the pillow.

A little weapon of destruction, with no sense of restraint.

Zhao Rongzhang lay lazily, her breathing gradually slowing from satiation. Her entire leg down to her toes felt weak. She stepped lightly on his back and neck, never having been so satisfied with him before.

Once sated, drowsiness began to set in, but the damp fabric, now removed from the warmth of his mouth, felt chilly and uncomfortable. The Princess ordered Little Cat to fetch a new undergarment from the large Yellow Pear Wood chest.

Little Cat moved swiftly but did not recognize the clothing, taking a long time to emerge. Zhao Rongzhang patiently instructed him on how to find it. After a while, he returned with the new undergarment, kneeling by the bed to present it to her.

Zhao Rongzhang propped her head on her hand, her dark hair loosely disheveled. Gazing at Little Cat’s beautiful dark eyes and his damp, half-wet face under the lamplight, she yawned and said, “Help me change.”