Chapter 102: The Secret Chamber

In her drunken haze, Lan Wu seemed to hear Chu Mingheng talking about her.

What was he saying about her?

She tilted her head to listen more carefully, but only felt more drowsy. In the blink of an eye, she was about to fall asleep, unable to make out what Chu Mingheng was saying.

But soon, she felt herself being lifted.

Lan Wu let out a sleepy murmur, burying her head against Chu Mingheng, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

Chu Mingheng carried her to the bath chamber, where steam rose in misty swirls, blurring their figures.

Lan Wu snapped back to her senses as her clothes were tugged, and as soon as she stood up, she tried to walk out.

“Where are you running off to, with your clothes in disarray?” Chu Mingheng pulled her back, pinching her cheeks to wake her up further.

“I… I…” Lan Wu looked around, unsure of where she was.

She had been to the bath chamber of Taichen Palace a few times before. Cloud-like gauze curtains hung down, stirred by a faint breeze from somewhere in the chamber, dispersing the mist and leaving only a lingering scent of incense.

Lan Wu raised her hands and slapped her own cheeks, using so much force that her face stung.

“How foolish,” Chu Mingheng said, grabbing her hands and swiftly undoing her clothes before placing her into the bath.

When he stepped into the water, he saw Lan Wu turn her back to him, her hands resting on the edge of the bath, revealing her smooth neck and the pale expanse of her back.

As if sensing Chu Mingheng’s gaze, Lan Wu sank a little deeper into the water, just enough to cover half her neck.

Chu Mingheng raised an eyebrow, letting her play for a while. When she began to drift away, he reached out and pulled her back, turning her around and pressing her against his lap.

“I’ll wash you. Stay still,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse and low. As he spoke, his hand moved to caress Lan Wu’s back.

Lan Wu struggled. “I can wash myself.”

“Hmm, I’ll help you,” Chu Mingheng replied, paying no mind.

Lan Wu protested, “I’m not dirty…”

Chu Mingheng pinched the flesh of her thigh. “You set fire to Jinghua Palace. Let’s wash away the bad luck.”

Lan Wu finally understood and stopped struggling.

The bath stirred up a restless heat.

Chu Mingheng wrapped an arm around Lan Wu’s waist and lifted her out of the water. After drying her with a cloth, he draped an outer robe over her and carried her straight out of the bath chamber toward the Inner Palace for resting.

The Inner Palace of Taichen Palace was especially large. After passing through one palace door, there were second and third doors, with carved wooden partitions dividing the space into separate areas.

But Lan Wu noticed that Chu Mingheng wasn’t leading her toward the dragon bed in the Inner Palace. Instead, he turned down another dimly lit corridor.

Clutching Chu Mingheng’s shoulders, she looked back and remembered what he had mentioned earlier in the carriage—another place. Her heart raced with unease, certain it would be another room with nothing but a bed.

As if sensing her fear, Chu Mingheng took a moment to gently pat her back in reassurance. “We’ll be there soon. It’s not a bad place.”

At the end of the corridor was a small door, its mica paper glowing with light from within. Though it was night, the room beyond was bright. When opened, the door revealed a round window beside it overlooking the rear hall of Taichen Palace.

Before Lan Wu could react, she watched in shock as Chu Mingheng slowly pushed open the wall before them—a door so seamlessly fitted into the wall that it was impossible to detect any difference.

Behind it were stairs leading downward.

Lan Wu struggled fiercely, trying to get down. “No, I won’t go down there—you go by yourself—”

The door closed behind them, yet the descending steps were not dim in the slightest. Glowstones embedded in the stone walls on either side cast an overly bright light, making Chu Mingheng’s expression clearly visible.

She stared in astonishment at the scene, reaching out to touch the stone wall before quickly pulling her hand back.

Underground spaces were typically cooler, but as Lan Wu descended, she felt no chill.

Only when they reached level ground did Chu Mingheng slowly set Lan Wu down.

The floor was covered with a fur rug, soft and warm. Even barefoot, Lan Wu felt no cold.

But when she looked up and saw the room before her—neither too large nor too small—her heart trembled violently. Wasn’t this her Yilan Hall?

Apart from the absence of windows, everything was identical to the Inner Palace of her Yilan Hall, down to the small incense burner hanging above the bed.

Lan Wu couldn’t help but feel a surge of fear. Though it was a familiar place, it only filled her with a chilling dread.

As she gazed at the room, she took a step back, stumbling directly into Chu Mingheng’s embrace.

Chu Mingheng seemed to have been standing right behind her, just a step away, waiting to catch her the moment she retreated.

“A-Wu always says she wants to return to Yilan Hall. What’s so good about Yilan Hall?” Chu Mingheng wrapped an arm around Lan Wu’s waist and spoke softly. “Since A-Wu likes Yilan Hall, I had no choice but to rebuild one for her in Taichen Palace—larger than the previous small hall, yet still a place A-Wu is familiar with.”

Chu Mingheng asked, “Does A-Wu like it?”

Lan Wu couldn’t find the words to answer. As soon as she opened her mouth, she burst into tears.

She was utterly terrified by Chu Mingheng, yet she could only bury herself fearfully in his embrace. Tears streamed down his neck as her body trembled, her words slurred and incoherent, filled only with refusals.

Chu Mingheng patiently listened to her cries for a while. Only when she had wept enough did he gently tilt her face up, look at her, then carry her forward and place her on the bed. He asked with a hint of exasperation, “Weren’t you going to run? How do you plan to run from here?”

Lan Wu lifted her foot to kick him, but he caught her ankle and gave it a gentle tug, causing the gauze robe draped over her to slip halfway off.

“Stop crying. You’ll stay here just for today. I’ll let you out tomorrow.” Chu Mingheng wiped away her tears, leaned down, and kissed her lips. “You said you’d make up for it yourself. You made a mistake—won’t you admit it?”

Lan Wu didn’t want to stay even for a day. She felt trapped here, with no one to hear her cries for help.

As it turned out, her fears were justified.

This place was even more terrifying than the previous small hall. Chu Mingheng told her she could cry out as much as she wanted—no one but them could hear. Not only that, but their presence lingered everywhere: on the bed, the Palace Carpet, the table… every surface bore their traces.

The glowstones were bright, and candles illuminated the hall, but without windows, Lan Wu lost all sense of time.

In her daze, she felt a day must have passed, but when she asked Chu Mingheng, he told her it wasn’t even dawn yet.

By the end, even the slightest touch from Chu Mingheng made her shiver involuntarily.

Her lips were swollen from kisses, her body marked with traces, yet she dared not open her eyes to face the scene of their intimacy.

Finally, as if touched by an immortal’s enlightenment, she understood something. Wrapping her arms around Chu Mingheng’s shoulders, she repeated over and over, “I won’t run… I won’t run anymore, never again…”

Chu Mingheng’s movements paused slightly, his probing gaze seeming to examine the sincerity of her words: “Is that so? Is A’Wu worthy of my trust?”

Lan Wu was too exhausted even to nod, murmuring her agreement and vowing she would never run away again.

Thank heavens, this seemingly endless bout of intimacy had finally come to an end.