It Was A Fake Marriage, But The Ninth-Thousand-Year Lord Took It Seriously. - Chapter 2

“That Is Not Her Brother Mo Ran.”

Jiang Zhi Li buried his head in Lu Ci’s neck; his other hand is underneath her collar. Lu Ci’s small face flushed, her head tilted back, letting out a soft moan.

Chun Hua, who saw them as well, was enraged and wanted to step forward, but Shen Qing Li held her back as they turned to leave.

Lu Ci’s tender voice came through, trembling with emotion: “Cousin, you’re about to marry someone else, leaving Ci’er unhappy, referring to herself.”

“…Jealous? The jewelry I’ve prepared for our wedding, I’ve already given to you. What’s there to be unhappy about?” Jiang Zhi Li murmured, nipping lightly as he spoke, hearing her soft gasp and laughing with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, even after I get married, my thoughts will always be of you.”

Shen Qing Li’s face turned bright red, unable to stand the disgust any longer.

She bit her lower lip, her fingers trembling with anger, suppressing the turmoil in her heart as she called out in a quavering voice, “Jiang Zhi Li.”

Her soft voice carried a trace of anger, spreading through the small alley and startling the two in the act.

Jiang Zhi Li looked up, his eyes full of desire, surprised to see Shen Qing Li, his collar slightly open as he walked towards her. “Li’er, what are you… doing here?”

Shen Qing Li took a few steps back, never having seen Jiang Zhi Li so debauched before; her whole body was cold and her lips were drained of color: “Cancel the engagement, Jiang Zhi Li; we’re calling off the engagement!”

A light drizzle began to fall, growing heavier by the second.

She did not stay to argue further. Without hesitation, she ran through the rain, leaving behind the nauseating alley, her feet carrying her all the way to the side courtyard of the Yongwang.

She stopped outside the mansion, not wanting to go in. She tilted her head back as tears mixed with the rain, sliding down her cheeks.

When she was ten, her father died in battle, her grandparents followed in sorrow, and her mother fell ill after handling the funeral, bringing her, who was ten years old back then, to Shengjing to seek refuge with her maternal grandparents.

Her mother was born of a concubine; her aunt had long passed away. Although her grandmother treated her mother and her with some kindness, she knew this was never truly her home.

Jiang Zhi Li had unknowingly stepped into her life, lighting up her lonely world.

He was gentle and polite, often bringing her small trinkets that were popular in Shengjing, like porcelain dolls, jade ornaments, and pearl flowers.

Grandfather Shen Wanchang was wealthy, and being raised in luxury, she was used to such things, but she treasured this kindness more.

Later, her grandmother discussed her engagement with Jiang Zhi Li with her mother, and her mother was very pleased, and she too had expectations. He was a kind person who would treat her well, and together they would form her own family, no longer dependent on others.

However, her expectations at this moment turned into mere bubbles.

Chun Hua sobbed, struggling to catch her breath. Seeing her mistress standing silent, she cried, “Miss, if you’re sad, please cry it out. Don’t hold it in and hurt yourself.”

The rain poured harder. Shen Qing Li seemed not to hear her. She stood motionless, staring blankly at the sky, where lightning streaked across the clouds.

As a child, she was most afraid of thunder and lightning, always hiding in her father’s arms at such times, only calming down when he held her and comforted her.

When her father passed away, she no longer dared to fear thunder and lightning. Instead, she focused on caring for her sick mother, afraid that even her last family would leave her.

Raindrops pounded the ground like scattered beads, bursting into tiny ripples. A lone bird flapped past above her, its wings drenched, its flight unsteady.

She had never realized how vast the world was, yet she had nowhere to call home. Like that bird, she was battered and lost.

“Who dares to block the carriage of the esteemed Lord Jiugong?”

A sharp voice jolted Shen Qing Li from her daze.

Before her, two towering black warhorses stood, their coats as dark as ink. The carriage they pulled was crafted from centuries-old golden nanmu wood, its nail heads wrapped in pure gold.

Two eunuch-dressed coachmen sat at the front of the carriage, followed by a group of armed guards.

“Move aside, I have urgent matters to attend.” A cold and impatient voice sounded from inside the carriage.

Shen Qing Li’s heart skipped a beat.

That voice… It really was Jun Mo Ran!

Ten years ago, when she had just turned six, she met the sixteen-year-old Ninth Prince, Jun Mo Ran, who had come to the border for training.

At that time, she was naive and ignorant, not understanding the difference between a ruler and a subject. She only felt that the new elder brother was exceptionally handsome, gentle, and steady, and she liked to cling to him.

When she was seven, she secretly followed him to the battlefield for the first time. Brother Mo Ran would always lose to her in their sparring matches, so why could he go to battle to kill the enemy, but she couldn’t?

However, the battlefield was not comparable to the martial arts arena in the military camp; it was about killing techniques, not just martial skills. But the battlefield was nothing like the sparring grounds. Here, it was not about skill but about killing. In the heat of the moment, Shen Qing Li lost control, and for the first time in her life, she cut off a man’s head. She didn’t know where the head rolled to, only that the headless body fell before her eyes… She was scared and could not move.

Fortunately, Jun Mo Ran noticed in time. To protect her, he took a blade through his left shoulder.

That was the first time Jun Mo Ran yelled at her with his eyes burning with anger: “You fool! Who allowed you to follow?!”

His roar almost pierced her ears, and to this day, when she recalls those fiery black eyes, she feels a lingering fear.

… Perhaps he was truly angry; he returned to Shengjing, and since then there has been no news from him again until now.

In just a few short years, the powerless Ninth Prince had become the feared Lord Jiugong, one of the most powerful figures, even the emperor showing him with deference.

As the orphan daughter of a general, Shen Qing Li had attended several palace banquets and seen him from afar a few times.

At the last banquet she attended, a palace maid was decapitated by Lord Jiugong for merely yawning, thus frightening everyone. That maid had previously targeted her intentionally before the banquet began, and although she didn’t like her, seeing a life treated so lightly terrified her, and she dared not enter the palace gates again.

That man was no longer her brother Mo Ran; she, like everyone else, bowed her head and kneeled before Lord Jiugong.

So when she heard his angry voice, Shen Qing Li was so frightened that she knelt down immediately, fear rising in her heart, regretting standing there in sorrow. If she lost her life because of this, her mother probably couldn’t save her either.

She hoped… She wouldn’t be sentenced to death.

Chun Hua was equally terrified, her voice trembling as she stammered: “Your… your lordship, this is Shen Qing Li, daughter of the late General Shen Zhong, Miss… Miss…”

Chun Hua’s voice was shaking uncontrollably. Shen Qing Li swallowed and replied, “Your lordship, this humble girl twisted her ankle by accident; please forgive me.”

“Hold on.” The carriage curtain was slowly lifted by a long, fair hand, revealing a familiar yet unfamiliar face.

He had a calm expression, a tall and slender figure, the dark red court attire accentuating his jade-like face, and his eyes as cold as stars.

In a moment, he descended from the carriage, holding a moon-white cloak in his hand.

The black boots stained with mud appeared in Shen Qing Li’s vision, and the rain suddenly stopped, drumming softly on the oiled paper umbrella.

Shen Qing Li’s gaze followed the dark red robe upwards, meeting the cold, emotionless black eyes before lowering her head, feeling utterly embarrassed.

“Who made you cry?” The cold voice had a hint of warmth, and he gently pulled her up with a big hand.

His usually cold voice carried an unexpected trace of warmth. A firm hand pulled her up with ease.

Shen Qing Li’s nose stung, and the grievances she had buried threatened to resurface once more.

“It’s… It’s just that my foot hurts,” she murmured, lowering her head, her voice carrying the faintest sob.

Jun Mo Ran’s fingers twitched slightly as his probing gaze landed on the top of her head.

Panic rose in her heart. “T-this humble girl takes her leave.”

The rain grew heavier. The oiled paper umbrella tilted over her head, drenching his back instead.

After a brief silence, a soft chuckle escaped him.

“Take it.” The handle of a sky-blue oiled paper umbrella was extended in front of her.

Shen Qing Li timidly raised her eyes; how could she dare take his things?

Looking at him, she eventually gave in, accepting the oiled paper umbrella, and softly said, “Thank you, Lord Jiugong!”

Turning quickly with Chun Hua, they walked towards the small gate. Whether it was an illusion or not, she felt that burning gaze on her back only disappeared after she entered the gate.