The mad princess forces love upon him, and the aloof imperial advisor trembles every night.

Chapter 83 Do you really have to do this?

As soon as she finished speaking, she kissed him again, while Si Chen turned his head to the side.

The movement was so fast that it stirred up a gentle breeze.

The kiss that should have landed on the lips only reached the tip of the ear—that thin skin instantly turned crimson, like the first red plum blossom struggling to bloom in an endless snowfield, fragile yet stubborn.

"Chu Qingyue, do you really have to do this?"

There was a very subtle tremor in his voice. It was unclear whether it was anger or something he himself dared not delve into.

She did not answer.

She didn't answer, but deftly fixed his hands on either side of the cage bars, her eyes strangely gentle.

Then he grabbed his chin, forcing him to look directly into the raging flames in his eyes:

"I've said it before, I want you, and you can't escape."

She held his head still and kissed him again.

This time, Si Chen didn't hide—perhaps because there was nowhere to hide.

He could only endure her tyrannical invasion; the aroma of wine, the stench of blood, and her unique, cold fragrance mingled and overwhelmed all his senses.

The familiar angina in my chest is back again.

More intense than ever before, as if countless hands reached out from his chest and gripped his heart tightly.

The taste of blood rose in my throat.

He bit her lip until it bled.

Blood seeped between their lips and teeth, the rusty taste mingling with the lingering aroma of alcohol, brewing a poison called despair that seeped into their lungs and marrow.

Chu Qingyue straightened up and looked at Si Chen beneath her, whose breath was unsteady and whose silver hair was scattered on the red silk.

She raised her hand, her fingertips slowly tracing the bleeding wound on her lips, staining her fingertips red, and brought them to her lips, gently licking them with the tip of her tongue.

Her posture was breathtakingly alluring.

"This can be considered Ah Chen's response," she smiled, her eyes shimmering even brighter, almost frighteningly so.

"This Empress..."

"I really like it."

After saying that, she actually got off him.

Si Chen had just breathed a sigh of relief—and before she could even catch her breath—when she was kissed again from her left side.

Her right hand deftly unbuttoned his wedding robes... the intricate details of the garment.

.........

He didn't know how to describe his feelings at that moment.

Resistance and secret desire, disgust and inappropriate excitement, fought like two opposing forces within him, tearing apart the mental defenses he had built up over four hundred years, leaving them teetering on the brink of collapse.

He attributed it all to humiliation, to a powerlessness he had never experienced before—

But deep down, a faint voice says: No.

That fishy, sweet smell came back up again.

This time, he tried to suppress it with his internal energy, but it was still to no avail.

Heaven is reminding him—do not let personal feelings sway you, and do not betray your Daoist heart.

The pain spread from his heart to his limbs and bones, like countless icy needles piercing his bones at the same time, both cold and painful, making his vision go black in waves.

He suddenly turned his head—

"puff--"

Blood splattered on the mandarin duck quilt, its crimson color glaringly obvious, like a belated ritual, a sacrifice of the heart.

Chu Qingyue froze instantly.

Looking at the glaring red on his pale lips, something flashed in her eyes—it was too fast, so fast it felt like an illusion.

Then his gaze turned cold, but his voice became even softer, so soft it was chilling:

"You'd rather damage your foundation than break these chains? What, you'd rather die than share a room with me?"

She leaned down, her lips almost touching his earlobe, her breath warm, but her words were like ice picks: "If I were to take you tonight, what could you do about it?"

Si Chen offered no explanation.

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, and the wasteland in his eyes seemed frozen solid.

"Chu Qingyue, if you insist on doing this, I naturally cannot resist."

He used his internal force to pull the teapot from the table in the distance.

The scalding hot tea poured down and splashed onto the back of his hand.

Despite the rising steam, the skin didn't even turn red.

"Look," he said casually, as if recounting the day's celestial phenomena.

"I have cultivated the path of ruthlessness for four hundred years, and all five senses have been extinguished."

"I can't feel the temperature, nor can I taste the flavors of sour, sweet, bitter, or spicy."

"If any of the above statements about this body are false to me, I am willing to die and perish."

He wasn't lying.

He truly couldn't feel hot or cold, nor could he taste anything—except for her.

These four-hundred-year-old living dead only truly lived in her presence.

But the truth is more cruel than a lie.

He regained his composure, suppressed his excitement, paused, and continued, "It makes no difference whether you're on me or the blanket is on me."

"Perhaps you're a bit heavier than the blanket."

"But I do not exhibit the reactions that you ordinary mortals should have."

Every word was like an icicle, piercing her and him as well.

"I have none of those desires, agitations, and passions of you mortals."

He paused, and finally a very slight fluctuation appeared in his voice: "I will never fall in love with you."

"Saving you when you were a child was an act of compassion for the world; sending you to a marriage alliance was an act of impartiality; today's wedding ceremony is to repay you for those three kowtows seven years ago."

"If you still harbor resentment over the marriage alliance... although I have a clear conscience, you may vent your anger by beating or scolding me. But nothing else is possible."

He knew she was extremely intelligent.

And he himself was lying for the first time in four hundred years—so clumsy that even he found it laughable.

Afraid that she would notice something was amiss, he closed his eyes tightly after he finished speaking and refused to look at her again.

The agonizing pain in his chest continued, and the Path of Ruthlessness teetered on the brink of collapse. Every heartbeat reminded him—it must not be broken, it cannot be broken, or it would be utter destruction.

but……

What if she is the end of all suffering?

The thought had barely crossed his mind when he ruthlessly extinguished it.

The fingernails dug deep into the palm, leaving crescent-shaped, whitish marks.

Chu Qingyue's movements froze completely upon hearing his words.

Her hands, braced on either side of his body, sank deep into the soft brocade quilt, the knuckles of her hands turning bluish-white from the effort, like jade about to shatter.

Those eyes, which always burned with either blazing flames or icy coldness, now seemed to have all their emotions instantly drained away, leaving only a vast, shattered wasteland.

He said... he couldn't feel the temperature or taste anything.

He said... she was no different from a blanket.

He said... he would never fall in love with her.

Every word was like a needle chilled to ice, piercing precisely into the deepest part of her heart.

but……

She slowly lowered her eyelashes.

Really... there's no difference?

What about the way his jawline tensed up the moment she kissed him?

What was it that he couldn't control when her fingertips traced his chest...?

What about his breathing, which was still incredibly disordered despite his eyes being tightly closed?

The highest form of detachment... What a wonderful detachment of detachment!

Chu Qingyue suddenly chuckled softly.