Chapter 7: Perish Together!
Before entering the room, Gan Qiongying dismissed Manyue and the others, even using a classic line from dramas.
“You all wait outside. No matter what sounds you hear later, do not enter without my orders, understood?”
Manyue and the other maids who closely served Gan Qiongying felt uneasy upon hearing this, as the Princess had never dismissed them when summoning male consorts from the courtyard before.
Manyue wanted to step forward and say something—she feared that after being humiliated for so long, the Consort might become desperate and risk his life to harm the Princess.
But remembering that the Princess still had a final line of defense—eighteen shadow guards by her side—Manyue felt reassured.
She bent her knees respectfully to Gan Qiongying and said, “We servants will wait right outside this door, ready for the Princess’s orders.”
Gan Qiongying was in a hurry and didn’t hear what Manyue said, already stepping inside.
As she walked around the screen toward the inner chamber, Gan Qiongying was extremely nervous.
This manifested as a cold sweat all over her body and trembling fingers.
The feeling was almost comparable to when she was twenty-two and first learned she had been diagnosed with late-stage esophageal cancer.
After all, in a person’s lifetime, the probability of personally meeting the “God of Wealth” is actually much lower than getting cancer.
By the time the door closed, Gan Qiongying had already moved behind the screen.
Directly opposite the screen, the bed’s curtains were drawn, and the dim, yellowish lamplight made it difficult to see the situation inside clearly.
On a table not far away stood a pair of Dragon-Phoenix Candles that hadn’t even been lit on their wedding night.
The candles were as thick as a child’s arm, their flames flickering—it looked like they wouldn’t burn out for a whole night.
On the table were several plates piled with peanuts and red dates. A wine pot on the table was accompanied by two aroma cups, clearly containing wine. Even without much experience, Gan Qiongying had seen this in many TV dramas—it was the Nuptial Wine.
Clearly, Manyue and the others had arranged the room according to the rituals of a marital union.
Gan Qiongying was quite speechless, but without using the excuse of “being swayed by lust,” it would be difficult for her to treat her God of Wealth well without breaking character.
However, Gan Qiongying planned to tell her God of Wealth some “truth” tonight. She had already thought through the specifics: she would say that due to the Emperor’s surveillance, she intended to maintain a superficial marital relationship with him and would no longer humiliate him, hoping he could relax around her so they could get along more pleasantly.
Moreover, having someone to act alongside her would be easier than performing alone. As long as the Consort reached some kind of understanding with her, handling future plot developments would be much simpler.
After all, they were both tragic supporting characters in the story. For the sake of the monthly two hundred thousand taels, Gan Qiongying had carefully considered and felt she could at least let the Consort see her true self.
This way, if the Consort survived later, being Zhongli Zhengzhen’s older brother, he might even put in a good word for her.
When the plot later reached the chapter of “the fall of Nánzhào Kingdom,” they could peacefully separate. By then, with the world vast and the seas wide, all that mattered was that they both survived safely.
For this reason, Gan Qiongying had instructed the maids not to enter no matter what sounds they heard.
Gan Qiongying had planned everything perfectly and quickly rehearsed what she wanted to say in her mind. But when she stepped forward, lifted the curtain, and prepared to reach a friendly agreement with her Consort, as she leaned in to sit on the bed, her movement suddenly halted—a chill touched her neck…
She looked down and saw a razor-sharp blade pressed against her neck. The knife was only the size of a thumb, thin as a sheet of paper, but held between fingers, it could easily slit a person’s throat.
Gan Qiongying froze completely. The excited sweat that had covered her body moments ago turned ice-cold in an instant, chilling her from head to toe.
She met the gaze of the person before her and finally got a clear look at her Consort’s face.
His appearance was gentle and ordinary, but his eyes shone like stars. At this moment, those eyes were filled with humiliation and anger, blazing like a wildfire that engulfed the entire galaxy, shimmering with resentment and determination.
“If you dare take another step forward, I will… perish with you!” he spoke, his voice like shattered jade.
Gan Qiongying knew he had misunderstood. As he spoke, the quilt slipped from his chest, revealing the gauzy robe that barely covered his skin, exposing its seductive allure.
No decent person would wear something like this—it was clearly lingerie. With just one glance, Gan Qiongying understood that this must have been the work of her “loyal subordinates,” who had misinterpreted her intentions and forced the Consort to wear it!
Gan Qiongying immediately raised her hand to explain, but as soon as she opened her mouth, barely uttering half of the word “You…,” her vision blurred, and she heard a crisp “ding.”
The blade pressed against her neck was knocked away. The next moment, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her into the air and pulling her backward.
The world spun around her. By the time she landed, the screen crashed to the ground with a loud thud, its exquisite carvings shattered into pieces.
From her angle, she saw two burly men dressed in black, hauling Li Ye off the bed and onto the floor like a piglet.
Li Ye’s hands were twisted behind his back. With several sharp “clangs,” gleaming long swords were simultaneously drawn, forming a circle around his neck as he knelt on the ground.
Gan Qiongying’s first thought was that these were assassins, but before she could even react or call for help, the man who had swept her to the window released her, stepped in front of her, and knelt on both knees. He was as sturdy as a small mountain, yet he knelt before her without hesitation.
With a loud “thud,” Gan Qiongying winced, certain his kneecaps must have shattered.
The kneeling man placed one hand on the ground and the other on the hilt of his sword, addressing Gan Qiongying, “Princess, forgive our offense. This man has disrespected you. Shall he be killed or spared?”
Gan Qiongying’s legs felt weak. She quickly counted about eight drawn swords in the room, their gleaming blades reflecting the flickering candlelight, almost blinding.
She swallowed hard, unable to speak for a moment. She was terrified.
And she couldn’t blame herself for it. Keeping her composure under such circumstances was already an impressive feat.
After all, she was a modern person who had lived in a harmonious society. This was the first time she had ever witnessed such a scene involving drawn blades.
Honestly, she hadn’t been this frightened when the Consort pressed the blade against her neck. The reason was that while his actions were dangerous, there was no real murderous intent emanating from him.
But the sudden appearance of these men truly made Gan Qiongying understand what “murderous intent” meant.
She had only ever read about such a thing in novels, but experiencing it firsthand sent a chill down her spine.
The blade was so narrow, yet it chilled to the bone. She had no doubt that if she so much as nodded, these men would not hesitate to slice off the head of the Consort kneeling on the ground.
Gan Qiongying remained silent for a moment, then spoke sparingly, “Let him go.”
These people had clearly appeared to protect her. As soon as Gan Qiongying finished speaking, they immediately sheathed their blades in unison, then stood silently around the Consort, awaiting further orders.
Gan Qiongying glanced over. The Consort was curled up on the ground, his clothes in disarray, his expression unclear, but his posture was filled with resistance.
How could they possibly form a proper alliance after things had come to this?
Where on earth had these people come from?
Gan Qiongying lowered her head to look at the burly man still kneeling before her. She could only see his deep-set eyes and thick brows, his expression cold yet obedient.
She guessed he was some kind of guard of hers, but she didn’t dare confirm it or ask too many questions.
Clenching her fingers inside her sleeves, she pondered for a moment before saying, “Leave, and call Manyue in.”
The group retreated swiftly, their footsteps silent, their figures like ghosts, vanishing in an instant.
As soon as they were gone, Gan Qiongying immediately walked over to the Consort and reached out to pull him up, but he shook her off. He lay prone on the ground in a humiliating posture, his back arched like a leopard’s, ensuring he wouldn’t be completely exposed.
Gan Qiongying quickly pulled the quilt from the bed and wrapped the Consort in it before Manyue could open the door.
As the quilt enveloped him, the Consort clutched it tightly with both hands and finally looked up at Gan Qiongying.
His eyes were red-rimmed, filled with such resentment it seemed to sharpen into a blade, piercing through Gan Qiongying with humiliation.
Tears slowly welled up in his eyes, trembling with each breath.
He didn’t need to say a word for Gan Qiongying to feel the overwhelming hatred radiating from him.
Gan Qiongying: …
This is a disaster.