Super-Fertile Darling: Forced to Marry the Heirless Tyrant

Chapter 273: Chapter 273: Want Us to Die Sooner? Hot and Alive

Wei Ting’s gaze followed her arm down to her hand.

Ji Qingwu picked up a plump longan from the bedspread. "Have some longans," she said. "They’ll help replenish your energy."

The dried fruits were laid out in neat, orderly rows on the crimson brocade quilt.

"The bath is ready," Wei Ting said. "You should go."

Ji Qingwu pretended not to hear, picking up another longan and slowly peeling its shell.

Wei Ting raised an eyebrow. "Surely you don’t intend to eat everything here before going to bed, my lady?"

Ji Qingwu’s eyes brightened. ’That’s a good idea,’ she thought, nodding. "The more the better. I’m frail."

Wei Ting reached out, and she immediately shrank back, but he only held out his open palm.

"Peel one for me," he said with a smile.

"Don’t you have your own hands?" Ji Qingwu retorted, displeased.

Still, she handed him the peeled longan.

’On their wedding night, just chatting peacefully is better than the alternative.’

Wei Ting, however, clearly had other ideas.

As Ji Qingwu’s hand lingered over his palm, Wei Ting suddenly seized it.

He had deliberately lured her into a trap. She tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

"I do have hands."

Wei Ting yanked her toward him with considerable force.

His face filled her vision. "What are you doing?" she asked, flustered.

"What am I going to do? Surely my lady knows?" Wei Ting raised an eyebrow, his words drawn out and deliberate. "I’m going to do exactly what a proper husband and wife do on their wedding night."

Ji Qingwu looked up, meeting his gaze. "Have you forgotten how we ended up married?"

"You weren’t naive enough to think I’d be content with a marriage in name only, were you?" Wei Ting countered.

A small, naive part of her had indeed hoped for just that.

He lowered his head, his gaze fixed on her trembling lashes.

"If you want me to protect the little prince in the imperial court, you need to show some sincerity. You can’t expect a horse to run without feeding it, can you?"

"Even if I’m unwilling?" Ji Qingwu asked stubbornly.

At her words, Wei Ting fell silent for a moment and released her hand. Ji Qingwu sidestepped away from him, a breath of relief just beginning to escape her lips.

Suddenly, her back went rigid. Wei Ting’s hand was on her, his fingertips tracing a line up the smooth, scarlet fabric.

He plucked the golden hairpin from her hair, and her long, ink-black tresses cascaded down her back.

Wei Ting lifted his hand, letting the silky strands, as smooth as the finest satin, run through his fingers.

"Lady Wei," he said in a low drawl, "it’s time for your bath. Don’t let this fine evening go to waste."

Ji Qingwu scrambled away from him and fled into the washroom.

Steam billowed from the hot water in the bathing tub. She stood before it for a long while, motionless.

From the outer room came the man’s lazy, coaxing voice.

"What are you doing in there, my lady? It’s so quiet. Shall I come in and help you wash?"

Ji Qingwu bit her lip and stepped into the tub, first splashing a handful of water onto her face.

She scrubbed away the thick layer of powder, and as the hot water trickled down, it revealed her naturally fair complexion, tinged with a healthy, rosy blush.

Her gaze was downcast, water droplets clinging to her lashes.

’It seems Wei Ting is determined not to let me off the hook.’

At that thought, Ji Qingwu leaned her back against the rim of the tub, losing all desire to even bathe.

Suddenly, there was an urgent knock on the outer door.

Ji Qingwu tilted her head. ’Could that be Lan Zhi with the medicinal tonic?’

The door to the room opened quickly. From inside the washroom, she couldn’t hear the conversation clearly, but she could tell that no women were speaking.

’It’s not Lan Zhi.’

Ji Qingwu lowered her head, uninterested. The two men seemed to still be talking.

She furrowed her brow slightly. The visitor’s voice sounded a little familiar.

Ji Qingwu sat up in the water, straining to hear.

All at once, she shot up from the tub, sending water splashing everywhere.

Ji Qingwu scrambled out of the wooden tub, snatched a long towel from the rack for a few frantic wipes, and grabbed the neatly folded set of clothes from beneath the screen.

She had no time to see what she was putting on; all that mattered was that it covered her.

She had recognized the visitor’s voice. It was Li Yuzong, Emperor Wu Su’s Chief of the Internal Affairs Office.

’Did something happen to Emperor Wu Su?!’

’Otherwise, why would Li Yuzong come to find the newlywed Wei Ting in the middle of the night?’

The more Ji Qingwu thought about it, the more panicked she became.

’Eunuch Li isn’t at the Emperor’s side while he’s unconscious. For him to come to the Wei Mansion to find Wei Ting, something major must have happened at the palace.’

’What else could be so important right now? It’s highly likely the Emperor is on his deathbed, or perhaps...’

Her hands trembled so much as she tied her sash that she gave up and just made a tight, dead knot.

As Ji Qingwu ran out, she nearly tripped over the scarlet wedding robe she’d left on the floor.

By the time she stumbled out of the washroom, the room was empty.

Ji Qingwu didn’t even have time to put on her shoes. She ran barefoot from the room, only to find that the guards at the door were also gone.

She shouted anxiously, "Wei Ting!"

No one answered.

The moonlight cast flickering shadows. A few red lanterns hung high above the bridal chamber.

Only the spot where Ji Qingwu stood was brightly lit; everywhere else was pitch-black.

She wasn’t familiar with Wei Ting’s courtyard and couldn’t immediately find the gate. She took a few steps forward, scanning her surroundings, and spotted the figure of a man by the pond.

’From his build and shadow, it must be Wei Ting.’

Ji Qingwu immediately ran toward him, the sharp stones on the path bruising the tender soles of her feet.

"Wei Ting!" she called out urgently.

The man remained motionless, like a wooden statue.

When she was about ten feet away from him, Ji Qingwu stopped. "Is there news from the palace?" she asked.

Though she hadn’t run far, she felt a sharp pang in her chest.

"Is His Majesty..." Ji Qingwu asked, stunned.

She forced two words from her throat, each one a struggle.

"Passed away."

He didn’t answer for a long moment. Frantic with anxiety, Ji Qingwu took two more steps forward, and this time, she saw his face clearly.

’It wasn’t Wei Ting!’

His frame was imposing, his aura chilling, his brows sharp as mountain peaks. It was...

Just then, a voice as cold as ice spoke.

"Does Ah Wu wish for Us to die sooner?"

Startled, Ji Qingwu took a step back. A sharp stone cut the sole of her foot, and she winced, sinking to the ground in pain.

Emperor Wu Su’s face, previously hidden in the dark shadows of the rockery, emerged into the pale moonlight.

Ji Qingwu remained crouched on the ground, her face tilted upward as she watched him approach, one step at a time.

She quickly lowered her head again, staring at his feet. ’Ghosts are supposed to float,’ she thought.

Emperor Wu Su’s gaze was colder than the moonlight as he looked down at her, crouched on the ground and staring blankly at his feet.

He bent down, grabbed her arm with his right hand, and effortlessly hauled her to her feet.

Ji Qingwu felt the searing heat of his palm. ’It’s warm. He’s alive.’

Tears welled in her eyes.

The hand gripping her arm did not relent, its grip tight enough to crush her bones.

Ji Qingwu bore the pain without a sound.

’Compared to seeing the Emperor lying frail and weak on the Dragon Bed, she much preferred seeing him like this—powerful and imperious.’

Emperor Wu Su’s lips were set in a hard line, his eyes frosted with a deep chill as he dragged Ji Qingwu all the way back into her and Wei Ting’s bridal chamber.