AFTER BEING MARRIED OFF TO A BLIND VILLIAN - CHAPTER 4

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Chapter 4

To say she wasn't afraid would be a lie.

Especially before someone more dangerous than ordinary people, more alert, more cautious, unfathomably deep and notorious, Chi Ying was so tense she could barely breathe, at a complete loss.

Fortunately, Prince Zhao didn't press her further. He only said gently: "The consort has also been frightened today. Go back early and rest."

Chi Ying immediately felt relieved: "Thank you, Your Highness."

Yet Prince Zhao clearly detected the easily recognizable note of relief hidden in her trailing voice.

Chi Ying bowed to take her leave and walked toward the residence gates.

But all along this path, she felt as if thorns pricked her back—as if a tangible gaze locked firmly onto her, pressing heavily against her spine, forcing her to quicken her steps.

Returning to Shuyu Pavilion, the maids in her quarters saw her covered in blood and were frightened out of their wits.

Aunt Fangchun, hearing that she and Prince Zhao had been attacked today, was utterly horrified. She hurriedly fetched wound medicine and helped her apply it and bandage the injury.

Chi Ying's wound was on her neck. Even though it wasn't deep, the sight was still alarming. "The consort's earring is broken."

Chi Ying instinctively touched her earlobe, recalling the slight crisp sound when the arrow grazed beneath her ear. She guessed it had broken then.

Fangchun removed the earring that was only half intact and placed it in the jewelry box.

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Beyond her heartache, she couldn't hide her astonishment: "The consort is saying that His Highness was not only completely unharmed, but personally shot and killed the assassin leader, and it was His Highness who shot off this earring?"

Chi Ying glossed over the danger of that moment and gave a simple account of today's events. To Fangchun's ears, it sounded like a story where the consort was taken hostage by assassins, His Highness refused to be threatened, and the hero saved the beauty.

"So His Highness's injury must have healed."

Chi Ying said thoughtfully: "Since His Highness can move freely, he must be mostly recovered."

Fangchun froze, thinking the consort had misunderstood something. She hastily explained: "His Highness was indeed gravely injured before. Otherwise, he wouldn't have missed the wedding. Please don't overthink it, Consort..."

She found herself in a difficult position. After all, the consort had only married in three days ago. Telling her the truth might frighten her, but not saying anything made it hard to explain why their master couldn't even attend his own wedding ceremony and was still living separately from his consort.

After much deliberation, Fangchun decided to tell the truth: "That day, Her Ladyship wasn't quite lucid. She mistook His Highness for the murderer who harmed Prince Ding. In a moment of loss of control, she injured His Highness..."

Chi Ying was slightly stunned. No wonder Aunt Fangchun had kept silent about it. She hadn't expected it to be Consort Zhuang herself.

Had Lady Zhuang's hysteria become so severe that she couldn't even recognize her own son?

What Fangchun didn't dare tell her was that if the candlestick in Her Ladyship's hand had been off by just half an inch and struck his heart meridian, even if Prince Zhao were an immortal descended from heaven, he couldn't have been saved.

The rumors outside said His Highness was gravely injured and difficult to treat, that wasn't wrong at all.

The problem was that every time Her Ladyship's hysteria flared up, Prince Zhao allowed her to strike him, covered in blood yet still accepting it with a smile, forbidding anyone to interfere.

If he hadn't been injured so severely this time, they as servants would have exhausted every method to persuade His Highness to marry. If Her Ladyship saw them as a loving, harmonious couple, she might find comfort, and perhaps her condition could improve.

Chi Ying noted her expression and guessed that Prince Zhao must have been seriously injured. Yet she had seen Prince Zhao with her own eyes today, that person was absolutely not someone whose days were numbered.

Perhaps this was what people commonly called "disaster lives a thousand years."

Recalling that heart-stopping arrow on Chengxian Street and the man's leisurely expression inside the carriage, Chi Ying's face paled, her fingers unconsciously curling.

If Prince Zhao didn't die, how could she escape unscathed?

Xiangqin and Baoshan had both been severely traumatized today. Chi Ying told them to return to their rooms to rest and had Aunt Fangchun attend to her bath.

Fangchun saw her face full of worry and, thinking she was afraid of Consort Zhuang's condition, comforted her: "Don't be afraid, Consort. Although Her Ladyship is occasionally not quite lucid, she has many guards around her. Even if her hysteria flares up, she won't harm you."

Chi Ying thought to herself: But didn't Prince Zhao get injured by her by mistake?

Was it because he was blind that he couldn't avoid it in time?

Chi Ying thought this to herself but couldn't very well say it aloud. She only said: "I didn't mean that. I'm just somewhat worried about Mother Consort and His Highness."

The corners of Aunt Fangchun's lips curved in a smile, deeply gratified.

Not only was the consort beautiful, her temperament was also extremely gentle and kind. This wedding had indeed been discourteous on the part of Prince Zhao's household, yet the consort harbored no resentment. She always had this soft-spoken manner. Even today, when she suffered an undeserved disaster because of His Highness, she showed not the slightest expression of displeasure.

Beyond feeling guilty, Fangchun felt several more measures of tenderness toward her.

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Taking some flower dew between her fingers, she carefully smoothed it over the consort's dark hair. Fangchun lowered her eyes to admire her clear, lovely features, her naturally alluring figure, snow-white skin, red lips, jade-like arms, slender waist. Truly, there wasn't a single part that wasn't graceful, not a single part that didn't move the heart.

It was a pity His Highness was blind and couldn't see the consort's beauty.

However, the consort's voice was also pleasant, soft and delicate, like pear blossom wine warming over a brazier, clear fragrance wrapped around the softness of petals, making one's ears go weak listening to it.

Just hearing this voice, one knew she was a beauty.

Fangchun combed through her hair and asked with a smile: "Having met His Highness today, what does the consort think of him?"

Chi Ying's cheeks were flushed crimson from the steam in the bathing chamber. This appearance truly resembled shyness.

"His Highness... is noble and upright, incomparably handsome."

She picked some pretty words to say, and Aunt Fangchun was indeed overjoyed: "Isn't that so! The rulers of Great Jin have always been imposing and handsome. When Consort Zhuang was young, she had a beauty that could topple cities. Both His Highness and Prince Ding have the finest features. Even though our master injured his eyes, he still has a face like jade, distinguished and transcendent. Moreover, His Highness is kind-hearted, absolutely an elegant gentleman..."

Chi Ying lowered her head in silence.

His handsome features, she could acknowledge that. As for being "kind-hearted"... that seemed far too much of a stretch.

If she hadn't seen with her own eyes that assassin shot through the throat by his arrow, the corpses littering Chengxian Street, she might have been deceived by his refined and handsome appearance too.

Seeing the consort's beautiful eyes momentarily dazed, Aunt Fangchun hastily explained: "The rumors outside can't be trusted. Every person His Highness has killed has been a treacherous villain of the worst kind."

Though she, a mere servant woman, absolutely shouldn't presume to discuss the struggle for succession, Aunt Fangchun didn't want the consort to misunderstand their master's character. She lowered her voice: "His Majesty has many princes, and open strife and covert struggles are inevitable. Our master lost his sight because of this, and Prince Ding was even more..."

Reaching the sorrowful part, Fangchun sighed: "Rumors can destroy a person without drawing blood. His Highness has had a difficult time these years, and Consort Zhuang has been plagued by illness for so long. Fortunately, now that you've arrived, His Highness finally has someone by his side."

Chi Ying pressed her lips tightly together and guiltily lowered her head.

Fangchun took it for shyness and thought it was time to ask His Highness to return to Shuyu Pavilion to reside. The lady was gentle and kind, naturally, she wanted to help bring about this happy union.

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Beneath Yanguī Tower, the residence’s secret prison.

Thick, viscous blood stench mingled with the cold smell of rust, blanketing the dim, damp torture chamber in an overwhelming miasma.

The three assassins on the torture racks were already mangled masses of flesh and blood. Splattered skin and tissue clung to the cold, wet walls. Screams rose and fell continuously. The incomplete shadows cast on the blue bricks twisted and trembled wildly, like demons from hell struggling violently.

Yan Xuecui removed the jade thumb ring from his finger and set it aside. From the torture table, he selected a bone-scraping knife that gleamed with cold light and, following the sounds, walked before the assassin.

In his hands, the bone-scraping knife seemed like a work of art. The blade moved methodically along the bloody flesh, inch by inch, finding certain special acupoints. As the tortured man trembled violently, the knife point pierced in, shallow at first, then deeper, slowly twisting.

Instantly, the assassin's heart-rending wails filled his ears. The iron chains rattled loudly. Blood flowed freely across the stone floor.

Prince Zhao's palm was stained with blood, yet he remained calm and composed. He even seemed to find a certain interest in those screams, the corner of his lips curving into a faint arc.

Within half a moment, the assassin couldn't endure the brutal torture and confessed the mastermind behind it all, a martial world faction.

Among the imperial relatives and nobility of Great Jin, quite a few secretly kept assassins in their employ. Now even underworld organizations had been drawn into court conflicts. It seemed his several royal brothers had become utterly ruthless in their methods.

Prince Zhao calmly listened to the confession, knowing nothing more would be extracted.

Only then did he seem to realize the bone-scraping knife was still embedded in the assassin's body. A smile touched his lips, though his pupils remained ice-cold and devoid of warmth: "My apologies. I'm blind, so I don't know if I found the right spot. I could only try inch by inch."

The assassin's entire body trembled and convulsed violently from the pain. He had thought that revealing the mastermind would finally bring some relief, but Prince Zhao clearly had no intention of letting him go.

That sharp blade carved through flesh and skin all the way. He could even clearly hear the sound of the blade scraping against his own bones. His wails changed from initial agony to shrill, hoarse, and distorted cries, until finally he could make no sound at all.

Though the residence’s hidden guards in the dungeon had grown accustomed to such bloody torture scenes, they still couldn't help the chill running down their spines.

These loyal subordinates all knew that in truth, ever since Prince Ding died in battle and Consort Zhuang fell ill, their master had changed.

Before others, His Highness was gentle and courteous. In private, however, he was quite sinister and cruel. They used interrogation methods to discover the mastermind behind attacks, but His Highness seemed more like... it was more like a means of entertaining himself.

Especially after losing his sight, he preferred to torture personally, as if enjoying an interesting game of killing, methodically controlling others' life and death.

At these times, they didn't even dare look at His Highness's eyes.

Some, out of curiosity or by accident, had seen them, those ash-gray, deathly still eyes would burst with intense pleasure when he killed. The corners of his eyes would flush with a sickly brilliance, like mandala flowers blooming in hell, bloodthirsty and bewitching.

Tonight, His Highness seemed even more extreme than usual.

The other two died the same way.

Once all three were thoroughly dead, the pleasure in Yan Xuecui's ash-gray eyes dissipated. He used a handkerchief to wipe the sticky blood from between his fingers over and over, until his knuckles were flushed red, before finally stopping.

But tonight's torture couldn't completely dissolve the repressed fury within him.

The loss of sight required absolute satisfaction of other senses to compensate. Killing or self-harm was the most effective method.

Only under the dual stimulation of screams and the smell of blood, in the sound of blade against flesh and white bone, could the unnamed craving within him be temporarily relieved.

Tonight he had killed quite a few people, yet it still wasn't enough. The surging desire within him seeped through bone and blood, thread by thread, extremely difficult to suppress.

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His fingertips rubbed across the handkerchief. In his mind, he once again recalled the cool, delicate sensation of the girl's fingertips brushing past His in the carriage.

He couldn't remember how long it had been since he had had contact with outsiders. Even though both eyes were blind and he craved the perception of touch even more, he never needed anyone to attend to him personally or help him walk. Even when killing or torturing, he never directly touched others' bodies with his hands. He used blades.

Because they filled him with immense disgust.

But the woman he'd touched today gave him a strange feeling.

True, the heavy powder and floral perfume on her body was unpleasant, yet through this vulgar, unbearable scent, he still detected her own fragrance, something like orange blossoms, elegant and pure, carrying a faint, elusive sweetness.

And when that equally soft and delicate voice drifted into his ears, the sensory bloom it brought in that instant surpassed countless others before.

The candle flame in the torture chamber danced in his cold, desolate pupils, like a crimson flame kindling in an abyss.

Even now, his fingertips could still stir up an unfamiliar thrill.

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