The Vicious Supporting Villainess’s Chronicle of Serving Pleasure (Historical 1v1, H) - Chapter 9

The Jinyiwei Commander, Qi Yan, heir of the Duke Protector’s house and the present emperor’s maternal cousin, was famed for ruthless methods.

Yet this “grim-faced Yama,” in the chapbook, loved the heroine Shen Wanhua as deep as the sea.

Whenever he faced the heroine, that baleful killing aura softened into tender silk; time and again at moments of peril he shielded her, guarding her in silence for years.

And whether it was Shen Chiying stealing the credit for saving a life, or later colluding with the Prince of Jiangxia to rebel, it was Qi Yan who personally exposed both.

Shen Chiying recalled her final appearance in the book—

Qi Yan came stepping through the dungeon’s cold standing water, looking down from on high, expressionless as he read the imperial decree ordering her to suffer all seventy-two tortures of the State Prison.

Hearing the report, Huan Jin’s sword brows knit; then, without a trace of lingering, he pulled out the still-rigid blade of flesh and picked up a damp cloth, unhurriedly wiping away the slick that coated it.

“I’m aware. Have Qi Yan wait in the East Hall,” he said, voice low and hoarse, threaded with restrained control.

Great Wei had been founded but a little more than twenty years. Though the north and south were unified, beacons still burned on the borders; lost lands remained to be recovered.

Since Qi Yan insisted on audience, the dispatch had to be urgent—eight hundred li in haste to the capital. He would hardly let a trifling dalliance delay affairs of state.

The East Hall was also within the Qianqing Palace, only a side room away; he could reach it without leaving the building.

“By your command. This slave will convey it at once.” Relieved, the young eunuch bowed and scurried off.

Shen Chiying’s heart clenched. Her small hand clamped tight on the man’s sleeve; she pouted softly, “Don’t go, Your Majesty—you haven’t come for me yet!”

Her tail note curled sweetly, hiding a thousand strands of unwilling hunger.

If she didn’t receive the emperor’s rain and dew, hadn’t she offered herself today for nothing!

Huan Jin lowered his eyes and cut her a cold glance, his presence falling like frost—majesty without anger. Shen Chiying’s breath hitched; numbness skittered down her fingertips, and her hand let go of its own accord.

Watching the man’s tall figure stride away, Shen Chiying sank back onto the soft couch in defeat, her face full of chagrin.

She bit her cherry lip and thumped the brocade padding hard.

That damned chapbook never once mentioned how she and Huan Jin behaved in private—then how on earth had she gotten pregnant with the dragon’s seed?

In a flash, her heart lurched again—her elder sister, Shen Wanhua, was still waiting outside the hall. Once Huan Jin finished with Qi Yan, he might very well receive Shen Wanhua as well.

At the thought, she scrambled off the couch, fingers shaking as she straightened her loose, disordered clothes.

Outside the Qianqing Palace, the sun scorched.

The white marble steps threw back a blinding glare; heat rippled up as Shen Wanhua stood waiting where she was, long since.

Fine sweat soaked her gauze ruqun; wisps of hair at her brow clung to flushed skin.

Beside her stood a tall, lean man in a dark-purple flying-fish robe, eyes like cold stars, motionless as pine.

When the young eunuch finished relaying the message, Qi Yan asked in a cold voice, “If His Majesty is in the hall, why move to the East Hall for my audience?”

He had only just arrived and sent word in; he did not yet know the situation within.

The young eunuch hemmed and hawed, not daring to answer, until the chief eunuch, Li Sheng, stepped forward and murmured, “Lord Qi, Her Majesty the Empress is inside…”

Before he finished, his look said the rest.

Qi Yan lifted a brow, his gaze turning of its own accord to the gentle woman at his side whose eyes were lowered in propriety; something amused flickered in those deep pupils.

Shen Wanhua, however, let out a breath in secret. However long the wait, it didn’t matter—so long as she did not have to hear those indecent sounds her concubine-born sister had so deliberately made.

Striding around the front eaves, Qi Yan reached the East Hall.

He hitched his sleeves and bowed toward the throne. “Your Majesty, eight-hundred-li urgent reports from the northwest.”

In the corner, the gilt suanni censer burned quietly; a light scent of ambergris drifted through the air.

After several cups of cooled tea, Huan Jin had returned to his usual self—nothing like the unbridled, wanton figure of a moment ago.

The instant he unrolled the classified dispatch, his gaze turned icy—the six Tartar tribes of the northwest had risen after all; many places in Hexi had fallen.

Since the late emperor had scattered and absorbed the Qi clan’s fifty thousand iron cavalry and compelled the Qi family’s direct line to relocate to the capital, the northwest had been like a tiger slipped from its cage.

Now a new monarch had only lately ascended and the court was beset with a hundred matters; the Tartar tribes seized the chance to revolt, styling themselves khan and seceding from Great Wei one after another.

“If your uncle leads the army, has he the confidence?” Huan Jin’s fingertips tapped the desk—thump, thump.

Qi Yan dropped to one knee at once. “In reply to Your Majesty: though my father has been idle for years, he has never ceased to prepare. His only wish is to serve the realm!”

Qi Yan’s father, the Duke Protector, Qi Ting, was the former head of the northwestern Qi clan—and His Majesty’s own maternal uncle.

“Very good.” Huan Jin’s brows eased a shade. He turned his eyes to the chief eunuch, Li Sheng. “Send at once to summon the Duke Protector. Also, have the grand secretaries of the cabinet and the Minister of War come to discuss the pacification.”

“Yes.” Li Sheng answered in a rush and withdrew.

When he had gone, Qi Yan reported several other matters.

Huan Jin mused aloud, “I’ll look into the Two-Huai salt administration case myself. As for the rest—let the cabinet discuss first and decide.”

“Yes.” Qi Yan cupped his hands, then shifted the topic. “Your Majesty, this minister encountered Princess Duanhui outside the Qianqing Palace just now. She appears to have been waiting for some time.”

Huan Jin’s gaze stayed on the dispatch; only a low “Mm” came from his throat.

“This sun is merciless,” Qi Yan said with interest. “If Your Majesty has no wish to receive her, why not send her back to rest? Or is it…”

He paused, meaning layered. “Is it that Her Majesty the Empress is making things difficult?”

Setting aside the distinction of ruler and minister, they were, after all, first cousins. In private, when not speaking of state, their talk was far more casual.

“Forgive my bluntness, but I truly see nothing good in the empress—certainly nothing to warrant Your Majesty keeping the Six Palaces empty for her.”