Chapter 64

*The Slap*
Zhu Yu had been gone a day and a night.
Bai Shuzhou had waited a day and a night.
A ruler’s face does not show joy or anger—that is basic training. No one knew what the princess in the high tower was thinking, not even Zhu Yu.
No one was sent to find her. The special-care box on her messages stayed gray; no bright red dot appeared. Zhu Yu was used to that.
Other messages were plenty, but without expectation they were only noise and pressure. She turned on Do Not Disturb and drifted through the streets, arranging possibilities in every combination, still unable to judge clearly—like a plastic ribbon tied in a dead knot, worse the more she pulled.
Bai Shuzhou had forbidden anyone to disturb Zhu Yu, so Zhu Yu walked on unaware, a trail of watchers behind her, stepping on leaves as the weather cooled. Leaves yellowed, cracked under her toes, then the wind took them and they were gone.
Thousands brushed past her. She had no idea what storm her disappearance had raised outside. The world felt quiet. She thought, a little blankly, that she was only another leaf—drifting into this world by chance, landing in Bai Shuzhou’s palm.
Now that long, elegant hand that had linked her to the world pressed cold against her throat. Zhu Yu’s throat trembled.
She could see red threading Bai Shuzhou’s beautiful eyes, pale green shadows under white skin. She was jade locked in darkness, thin glaze catching cold light—haggard and unearthly.
Drunk, she could still howl and demand truth. Sober, she could not bear a harsh word to that pale face.
Every accusation and grief sharpened against her own heart until what came out through the vines was soft: “I’m back.”
Dragon vertical pupils carried natural pressure. Zhu Yu felt like prey. She did not want to hide from Bai Shuzhou and knew she could not. She said low, “I was drunk. I stayed out all night. I ran into an… old friend.”
“You know her too. In the Chaos Sector she sent you a lot of gifts.”
She sold Nan Gong without guilt—that was the lightest topic she could offer.
“Old friend?” Bai Shuzhou bit the words.
What old friend drank embraced in each other’s arms?
That flamboyant red hair stirred a faint memory. Pain lanced her nerves; fragments flashed. Disgust cut deeper than love.
Once, in darkness, she had used a mirror to watch their exchange—postures intimate and relaxed… She, imperial princess, had to watch her wife with someone else?
What were those gifts then—exchange? Payment?
As a top predator, Bai Shuzhou knew perfectly well that woman’s gaze at Zhu Yu was no “old friend.”
She dared poach openly on her territory!
Her pupils narrowed further. Vines slid over clothes and along her waist, checking every inch of skin. Her hoarse voice was cold. “I warned you not to contact Federation people on your own…”
Her spirit vines were thinner and more supple than usual. She found no foreign scent, yet she was not satisfied. Cold fingertips followed.
Zhu Yu jolted unprepared. Bai Shuzhou was rarely this forward; usually a light glance was enough to set ripples in Zhu Yu’s heart and draw all her attention away.
Tonight her mood was low. Zhu Yu clenched her teeth and stayed silent a long time. She chose the smallest opening she could. “Your gift ability… is it healing?”
She asked as gently as she could, still unwilling to believe, because the crueler words were too hard to speak—even thinking them made her chest ache dull.
*What if I’m wrong?*
Bai Shuzhou looked at her without answering and asked back, “What did Zhu Zhao tell you?”
Her face was too calm, no denial—almost consent. Zhu Yu’s heart dropped. Her instinct had already judged.
Moments slid past: Bai Shuzhou’s shock the first time she showed her power; talk of healers on the battlefield; many small clues finally threading into silver needles that pierced her broken heart again and again.
If Bai Shuzhou truly healed, why not heal White Bird herself? Maybe consuming life force was real—and from the start she had said Zhu Yu’s extra “service” would have its “payment.”
*Why can’t you lie to me? I would believe whatever you said.*
Zhu Yu whispered self-deception: “You don’t get along. Her words can’t all be true.”
“Zhu Zhao is proud. She does not lie,” Bai Shuzhou paused. “Neither do I.”
She curved the faintest smile. Moonlight under vertical pupils turned eerie, inhumanly indifferent. Ice fingertips moved with something like deliberate cruelty, showing Zhu Yu her worst side. Softly she asked:
“You’re shaking. Are you afraid?”
*Afraid of me like this?*
*I never hid my nature from you.*
“If everything Zhu Zhao said is true—would you still like me?”
Still flat, like deep cold water. Chill seeped from her jade bones and clung to Zhu Yu until her fingertips went numb.
For the first time Zhu Yu understood: dragon was not only elegance and beauty. It was symbol of terrible power, naturally above all things.
Now Bai Shuzhou resembled Bai Qianze and was utterly different. Both looked down on the world from height. Bai Qianze’s eyes held only chaotic violence; Bai Shuzhou held something close to divine pity. Sharp nails touched Zhu Yu’s soft cheek.
“Staying with me will be dangerous.”
She was not fragile, not a treasure that shattered easily. She had committed unforgivable sins; she was the opposite of every beautiful fantasy outsiders held.
*Even so—will you still like me?*
Silver hair like snow fell on Zhu Yu’s shoulder. Her voice, rare and soft, was full of seduction, repeating at her ear.
It seemed the gentlest warning, yet the vines tightened. While Zhu Yu stared blankly, slender fingers had reached her gland. Hunting pupils never rested, recording every swallow.
The pale tip of her nose flushed. Stray hair half-hid pale eyes—no longer cold or indifferent. A broken idol fell truly into craving and opened her arms to her most devout believer.
Bai Shuzhou’s cold palm pressed between Zhu Yu’s ribs. She was so soft she could almost hold down the dull pain of a heart striking bone.
Between life and death lay love that could burn everything.
Zhu Yu dug nails into her wrist. “Then—do you like me?”
The answer was a kiss.
Bai Shuzhou’s brow lifted slightly. She pulled the girl into her arms without resistance, like a mother’s gentle hold, fingertips tracing each ridge of her thin spine. Mature Omega scent filled the air.
Snow-white fingers threaded black hair, slid from beside her ear to the back of her skull, pressed down—and at the peak of feeling could not help tugging, like reins driving the purest love of youth.
“Mm… ha.” Cold voice carried tiny bursting bubbles.
Each breath drew a tremor of pleasure. Days of grievance melted like snowflakes. Instinct made her cling—want more, greedy for more.
Destruction over life. Greed over selflessness.
Warm, clear drops rolled from fair skin, wrong against her cold temperature. Silk drank to saturation and fell drop by drop onto Zhu Yu’s hand.
The low heat could not truly burn skin, yet it raised red, crossing faint blue veins.
*Even if I die in this moment—*
Zhu Yu felt mad. Honesty, reason, talk—let it all go to hell.
Those legs that had stood on the imperial opera stage, adored by thousands, could only be moved at another’s will now.
Guilty, she cared nothing for price. She gathered warm light at her fingertip and poured it in. In the dark that point of glow was painfully bright.
Sensation returned. The proud princess paid for arrogance and deceit. What had been manageable appetizer now made her pupils shrink; she bit her fingers hard to keep silent.
Her scattered focus returned. Pale blue eyes lowered—Bai Shuzhou meant to stroke her cheek. Her gaze caught the collar. Her fingertip stopped. She bit her tongue by accident; a broken low sound mixed with blood went down her throat.
“What is this?” she asked coldly.
Zhu Yu: “Hm?”
Bai Shuzhou turned the collar with wet fingers. She was certain: lipstick—not scent, not the shape of a kiss mark. Zhu Yu had not been dirtied.
But it was—that damned Federation agent, left on purpose.
A challenge.
Zhu Yu flinched under eyes suddenly forest-cold. She could not see what was on the clothes, but Nan Gong’s brooch lay in her inner pocket now; her fingertip moved almost imperceptibly.
*Found out?* She stiffened her face.
Bai Shuzhou had warned her countless times to keep distance from Federation people. Walking the street that afternoon she had thought of throwing away this time bomb.
Yet somehow she had kept the brooch—as insurance beyond her worst plan.
She had truly thought of leaving. Perhaps that alone was already betrayal.
Before Bai Shuzhou, especially in bed, every small motion was magnified.
Zhu Yu lifted her face to kiss her and divert attention. Bai Shuzhou went straight to the pocket. Two fingers pinched out a pure gold brooch.
“What is this?”
She knew the mark—Nan Gong family style—but the center emblem differed slightly. Not house crest. Private seal.
Zhu Yu wore a Federation agent’s private seal—and her first instinct had been to hide it.
“What is this?” Voice sinking, she asked again.
Zhu Yu was usually open. Now her eyes slid away. She stammered a lie: “I picked it up on the road…”
*Slap.*
The crisp sound rolled through the room. Because of the lingering intimacy the blow was not heavy, but humiliation flooded over. Zhu Yu looked up in disbelief.
From passion to hell took only an instant. Drops on the back of her hand had not dried; they trembled onto the sheet.
“Was what I gave you not enough?” Bai Shuzhou asked coldly. “Can I not fill your appetite?”
“Are you that cheap—so fond of what others give? You took a private seal. Do you know what happens if anyone finds out? Treason, Zhu Yu?”
“I didn’t—!”
“Friend. A fine friend. You think because I lost memory I know nothing?”
“You said we eloped to the Chaos Sector. She was sending things even then. I remember her.”
“That’s not how it was! The gifts were for you—exchange—I helped fix things for them too—”
“Exchange? I don’t want it.”
Even at her lowest the princess had worn jewels. She could not understand Zhu Yu’s poverty.
She knew she had given Zhu Yu treasures enough to buy planets. Zhu Yu kept none on her body; all went to the bank—yet carried this cheap gold pin.
“Gold, gems, jade—what do you like?” Her tone turned abruptly gentle; rose scent spilled over Zhu Yu’s burning cheek.
But her gaze was not on Zhu Yu; she was not truly asking.
Bai Shuzhou opened a flood of gems. Under Zhu Yu’s aggrieved, ashamed stare she slowly chose a sapphire stud, deep blue like her eyes when pupils went vertical.
Disinfect, wipe. Green vines wound Zhu Yu’s wrist again. “Don’t move. This is from me. You will wear it.”
Before Zhu Yu could react, Bai Shuzhou lowered her lashes—tenderness that chilled the bone—and the sharp stud pierced flesh. Zhu Yu’s expression went blank.
Forced piercing. Bai Shuzhou cupped her face and studied her.
The girl’s clear features turned bloodless, matching the sapphire—all the more brilliant in dim light, fire dancing with noble mood.
This suited Zhu Yu’s status.
Suited the status of Bai Shuzhou’s wife.
Cold breath and rose scent neared again. Zhu Yu’s heart contracted; she shrank back. Bai Shuzhou embraced her warmly once more, fingers over butterfly bones, as if the pain had been illusion.
She kissed the hot slap mark on her cheek—claiming, lingering—then brushed soft lips over the stinging place, moved to her ear, hoarse:
“You’re mine.”
“We signed a contract. Don’t forget what you promised.”