Shocking! The actress was dragged to the regent's bedchamber every night.

His voice was very soft, so soft that it sounded like he was talking to himself.

He gently rubbed his thumb along her jawline.

Su Wuli moved slightly in disgust, but he restrained her.

"Someone come here."

As soon as he finished speaking, the tent flap was lifted, and the guards walked in.

"Bring the bronze mirror here," Qi Zexun ordered.

"Yes," the guard replied, turning and leaving.

Not long after, two servants carried in a bronze mirror that was about half a person's height.

It was polished so bright that you could see your reflection in it.

They placed the mirror in front of Su Wuli and then left.

Qi Zexun released her chin, straightened up, and took a step back.

Then he turned his head to look in the mirror, and then looked at her.

"Think about your regent and smile." His voice was unexpectedly tinged with amusement. "I'm going to paint what you look like when you smile."

Su Wuli looked up at her face in the mirror.

The face in the mirror was as cold as ice, and the eyes were lifeless.

He stared at his face in the mirror for a few seconds, then looked away.

She lowered her eyes and looked at her hands resting on her knees.

Qi Zexun didn't rush her, but stood patiently to her side.

"That's fine too." He suddenly smiled, walked back behind the drawing table and sat down.

I picked up the pen again.

He paused after a few strokes, looked up at her, then looked down again and continued drawing.

Just when Su Wuli thought that was the end of it, Qi Zexun suddenly spoke.

"Even if he wins this battle, those people in the court won't let him off the hook, do you understand?"

The pen tip moved across the paper, and ink seeped out from the tip, spreading out in a small patch.

Upon hearing this, Su Wuli clenched her fingers on her knees.

Qi Zexun made a few strokes, then stopped, crumpled the drawing paper into a ball, and threw it away.

He laid out another sheet, dipped it in ink, made a few strokes, and then threw it away.

He drew faster and faster, and tore more and more frantically.

The pen tip drew a line of ink on the paper, but it was crumpled up before it could take shape.

Ink splattered on his sleeve, and he glanced at it.

It wasn't wiped.

The crumpled paper was scattered all over the floor.

The servants huddled in the corner with their heads down, no one dared to make a sound, and they even suppressed their breathing to the shallowest possible level.

Until Qi Zexun threw the pen on the ground.

He stood up, walked up to her, and looked down at her.

Su Wuli slightly raised her eyes.

Qi Zexun's expression didn't seem angry; there was even a slight smile on his lips.

However, the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"I can't draw it," he said in a low voice.

It was as if he was talking to himself, and also as if he was talking to her.

But it was clear from his voice that this was something that made him very unhappy.

He put his hands in his sleeves and stood there watching her.

Su Wuli didn't reply and lowered her eyes.

Qi Zexun squatted down in front of her and looked her in the eye.

He then reached out and picked up a strand of her hair that was hanging down her shoulder, and slowly twisted it between his fingers.

His actions caused Su Wuli's body to tense up instantly, and she even stopped breathing.

She sat there motionless.

Qi Zexun brought the strand of hair to his nose and smelled it.

Before Su Wuli could react, she loosened her grip.

Her hair slipped from his fingers and fell onto her shoulder.

"I have drawn it so many times, but I still cannot capture your spirit."

Qi Zexun's tone suddenly changed.

It wasn't the casualness from before, nor was it teasing.

"It's not a problem with technique." He paused for a moment, then continued, "It's the leather that's wrong."

As he spoke, his gaze slowly moved down from her face to her neck.

That gaze was unhurried, as if peeling something away.

Su Wuli's fingers slowly clenched inside her sleeve, her nails digging into her palms.

Then the man spoke in a low voice, "If I peeled off your skin and pasted it onto a drawing paper, it would probably look very realistic."

The tent was deathly silent.

The servant huddled in the corner, his head bowed even lower.

Su Wuli turned her gaze from the curtain to his face.

His scholarly face held neither a smile nor malice.

There was nothing there, only a chilling seriousness.

He wasn't trying to scare her.

Qi Zexun immediately stood up and reached out to the guard.

The guard hesitated for a moment, then drew a dagger from his waist and handed it over.

Qi Zexun took it and turned it around in his hand.

He crouched down and pressed the dagger against her face.

The back of the knife slowly slid down her cheekbone.

It slid down to the corners of my mouth, my chin...

He tilted his head, looked at her profile, and remarked, "What a stunning face."

Su Wuli was too scared to move.

She suddenly realized that this person was not normal.

His previous act of leading elite troops to storm the Nanhuai army camp was a suicide mission; he was simply insane.

Her eyelashes trembled slightly as she lowered her eyes to stare at the dagger pressed against her face.

The back of the knife pressed against her chin, its coldness raising tiny goosebumps on her skin.

She had a feeling that the dagger would flip over at any moment, and the blade could easily cut a gash against her skin.

Peel her skin off.

Qi Zexun's gaze fell on her face as if he were inspecting her, which was chilling.

Just as Su Wuli was about to close her eyes and accept this reality.

He suddenly put the dagger away, then twirled it in his hand before handing it to the guard beside him.

The guard took it and sheathed it again.

"Just kidding." Qi Zexun stood up, went back, and laid out another sheet of paper.

He picked up another pen, dipped it in ink, and said, "Little beauty, smile."

Su Wuli looked at Qi Ze's face, which showed no trace of what had just happened.

Don't provoke him.

Su Wuli forced a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"Make it bigger."

The curve of her lips widened a little more.

"I am very satisfied." He lowered his head, the tip of his pen landing on the paper.

Su Wuli sat there with a stiff smile, her fingers slowly loosening inside her sleeve, revealing crescent-shaped red marks on her palms.

Su Wuli dared not oppose him anymore.

This person is crazy.

My back was pressed against the chair back, and I dared not move or turn my head. I didn't even dare to tremble my eyelashes too much.

She has to live.

To return alive to Yu Chen's side, to survive these next few days.

Go back alive.

I don't know if it's today, tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow...

But she knew it would come eventually.

She just has to wait.

After a long while, Qi Zexun finished the last stroke and put the brush on the inkstone.

He picked up the drawing paper, looked at it in the candlelight, then put it down and blew on the ink.

He looked at it for two seconds, then handed it over with satisfaction, saying, "It's yours."

Su Wuli looked at the painting. In the painting, she was wearing a white down jacket and her hair was loose.

His smile was ugly.

After hesitating for a moment, she reached out and took the painting.

Qi Zexun was in a good mood when he saw her obediently accept the painting. "This one is better than the previous one. The previous one didn't look like the real thing. These eyes are so lifelike."

Su Wuli gripped the painting in her hand tightly, without uttering a word of rebuttal.

He kept telling himself that he was crazy and that saving his own life was the most important thing.

We can go back after a few days.

………………

night.

A servant came in carrying a tray with a set of clothes folded on it.

It was deep red, with gray-white fur trim around the collar.

The cuffs were embroidered with a subtle pattern, and the skirt was very long.

The servant simply placed the clothes on the wooden box, bowed his head, and withdrew.

The curtain was lifted, and Qi Zexun walked in.

He walked to the wooden box and reached out to touch the fabric of the garment.

"Try on the clothing of a noblewoman from Kitahara."