Chapter One: Three Thousand Affections (Part Seven)

Chapter Seven: The Night Banquet

As Xiangbao stepped into the grand hall, she saw Fuchai seated high upon the dais, still adorned in his striking yellow robe; his long hair was tied up in a high bun. After joining Suhuamei, Zheng Dan, and the others in a formal salute, Xiangbao lowered her gaze and quietly took her assigned seat among the guests, determined not to draw attention to herself and deepen the impression that she was a bringer of calamity.

Two rows of low tables stood beneath the dais, each with soft cushions laid on the ground. At the head of the left-hand row sat Wu Zixu, while Bo Pi presided over the right—a clear and deliberate arrangement.

“Sir Xiang pays his respects to the King,” Si Xiang greeted, his violet robe hinting at his noble status. He knelt in perfect formality, every gesture precise and deferential.

Raising her brows slightly, Xiangbao noticed that while bowing, Si Xiang kept stealing glances at Fuchai, his eyes filled with adoration. Fuchai, though, appeared coolly indifferent; he merely nodded and waved him to his seat.

Seeing the disappointment in Si Xiang’s gaze, Xiangbao could not help but feel indignant.

“I have returned from the hunt with great spoils,” Fuchai announced, slowly raising his wine vessel, his eyes half-closed as he spoke. Though his tone lacked sharpness, his face carried all the authority of a king. “Tonight, let us feast and rejoice together.”

“Thank you for your grace, Great King!” The guests raised their cups in unison.

Xiangbao hastily joined in, swallowing her wine in one gulp. She felt her cheeks grow warm. What kind of wine was this? Its strength was formidable.

At Fuchai’s signal, a dozen dancing girls entered, their graceful movements accompanied by the delicate music of strings and flutes.

Slightly tipsy, Xiangbao sipped her wine, finding its taste surprisingly smooth. She tilted her head and, through her haze, caught sight of Fan Li standing guard at the right of the main gate.

Fuchai had surely arranged this on purpose. The illustrious Fan Li, once a grand minister of Yue, reduced to a mere doorkeeper—yet even in this role, he seemed composed and dignified. A true man, able to bend and endure as the times demanded.

Just as Xiangbao pondered this, a cold, unwavering gaze locked onto her. She looked over and recognized the guard on the left—Shi Lian.

Shi Lian glared at the woman inside the hall, her cheeks flushed with drink, and muttered through clenched teeth, “Fool.” How could she dare to drink in such a setting? Utter fool.

“What are you looking at, my lady?” A warm breath brushed Xiangbao’s ear.

Startled, she turned—only to feel a gentle softness press against her lips, her vision blurring for a moment. When the mist finally cleared, she found herself face-to-face with a breathtakingly handsome visage, his cool, soft lips brushing hers.

A faint cough sounded nearby.

Her mind stalled, but Xiangbao quickly regained her senses, scrambling back until she half-sat on the floor.

“Careful, now,” Fuchai exclaimed with playful exaggeration, pulling her into his arms.

“A bringer of ruin,” Wu Zixu remarked coldly from the side.

Again? How was this her fault?

“Bring in the venison,” Fuchai suddenly commanded.

Soon, someone entered with a large platter. To Xiangbao’s surprise, it was Goujian himself.

“My lady, as I promised you,” Fuchai whispered at her ear, indicating the glistening, roasted deer upon the tray. Though his voice was soft, the echo in the hall made it perfectly audible to all. “This venison looks truly delicious. No wonder the world covets the deer… Lord of Yue, would you not agree?”

Turning, Fuchai smiled at Goujian.

Goujian started, then knelt on both knees. “Great King, to pursue the deer costs you not the slightest effort; it is yours by destiny.” Raising the tray high, he proclaimed his words for all to hear.

“See how loyal Goujian is to our king,” Bo Pi interjected swiftly.

“Hmph, a schemer,” Wu Zixu scoffed.

Fuchai seemed not to notice, instead cutting a small piece of venison from the raised platter and bringing it to Xiangbao’s lips.

Ah, what a headache—truly, one should not drink too much. Swayed by the savory aroma, Xiangbao bit into the meat without hesitation.

“Gently, my lady, you’re biting my fingers…” Fuchai let out a soft yelp, wrinkling his handsome brows in feigned pain.

Obediently, Xiangbao opened her mouth, watching as he carefully withdrew his fingers, a smile lighting his features.

“Ah, a beauty in my arms. Tell me, my lady, would you care to join the hunt for the deer?” Fuchai’s lips curled in a teasing smile. Seeing her dazed grin, he sighed. “Whatever you desire, I shall offer up with both hands—just as I brought you this deer, I would risk my life to fulfill your wishes.”

“Hmph, what a disgrace!” Wu Zixu finally stood, flinging his sleeve as he stalked away.

Watching Wu Zixu’s angry departure, Fuchai’s eyes turned icy.

Xiangbao rubbed her brow, trying to clear her head.

“Tired, my lady?” Fuchai inquired, lowering his head with apparent concern.

“Father…” came a timid voice.

Fuchai looked down in puzzlement. Si Xiang?

“Mother… um, mother has drunk too much, she looks quite unwell…” Meeting Fuchai’s gaze, Si Xiang immediately cast his eyes down, stammering.

“Oh? And?” Fuchai raised an eyebrow at Xiangbao, amused.

“Mother… often complains to me…” Si Xiang blushed, stammering even more.

“Complains of what?” Fuchai waited, thoroughly entertained.

“That… that father has neglected her for so long…” Gathering his courage, Si Xiang leaned close and whispered.

Though his words were soft, Xiangbao—still nestled in Fuchai’s arms—heard every syllable.

She gaped. This little imp! How dare he ruin her reputation! Was it the wine? Xiangbao felt her cheeks burn as if on fire.

“Oh?” Fuchai looked down at her, eyes glinting with mischief.

Heaven have mercy! Couldn’t he see she was being framed? Xiangbao gazed at him with desperate hope.

But Fuchai ignored her, turning instead to pat Si Xiang fondly on the head. “Father understands,” he said with a wink and a chuckle, disregarding Xiangbao’s protests.

Si Xiang’s cheeks flushed red, his eyes shining like a puppy’s—one pat, one wink from his father, and he seemed to possess the whole world.

This ungrateful child! After all her care for him, he’d betrayed her… Xiangbao ground her teeth in silent frustration.

“Enjoy the festivities, everyone. I shall escort the lady back to the Drunken Moon Pavilion,” Fuchai declared, as if eager to stir further trouble.

Xiangbao sighed inwardly; surely her reputation as a bringer of disaster was now firmly entrenched.

“We respectfully bid the King farewell,” the assembly chorused.

As they passed through the main doors, Fuchai paused.

“Master Fan, will you not join the others in the hall?” he asked suddenly.

“Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty,” Fan Li replied quietly, eyes lingering on Xiangbao’s injured hand.

“If you were to come inside now…” Fuchai smiled, glancing at Xiangbao, “perhaps I could even bear the pain of losing her…”

Fan Li was silent for a long time.

So long that Xiangbao’s heart chilled.

“Ah, Master Fan is loyal indeed,” Fuchai remarked, a sly glint in his narrowed eyes as he noted Xiangbao’s confused look.

Xiangbao’s mind was a muddle; nothing made sense anymore.

Fuchai led Xiangbao away. As she glanced back, her last sight was Fan Li’s tightly clenched fists—his knuckles white.

Careful not to touch her wounded hand, Fuchai walked with her in silence for some time.

“Come stand by my side,” he said suddenly, pulling her into his embrace, leaning against a column in the corridor. Drawing close, his eyes locked on hers, exuding an inexplicable allure.

What did he mean? Xiangbao, slightly dazed, unconsciously tilted her head to gaze at him. How beautiful he was!

“Stand by my side.” His impossibly striking face moved nearer, his cool lips brushing her ear. “Let us keep each other warm…” His voice was low, seductive.

His soft, cool lips trailed along her neck, sending a shiver through her. For a moment, Xiangbao half-closed her eyes, longing to lose herself in his embrace forever.

The youth in white… home and country, home and country…

Who was she? Xiangbao? Xishi?

“You see, I gave him one last chance to take you away. But…” His lips pressed to her earlobe, whispering intimately, “He gave up… he gave up on you…”

Xiangbao trembled.

Through her drunken haze, the bamboo slip engraved with “Xiangbao, Fan Li” seemed to sway before her eyes. Her head throbbed fiercely, as if her body were a wisp of silk floating away. “Heh…” Unable to suppress her laughter, Xiangbao smiled through her tears.

Sighing, he scooped her into his arms. “Let me take you back to the Drunken Moon Pavilion—don’t cry.” His voice was unexpectedly gentle.

Cool hands gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. Xiangbao started. How cold his hands were—so cold, as if lifeless.

That night, beneath the icy cliffs, had she not felt equally lifeless?

She instinctively grasped his cold hand, pressing it to her chest. Was that warmer? Was it?

His hand quivered, then stilled.

He pushed open the door and entered.

Fuchai carefully laid her upon the couch, then lay down beside her, unwilling to let go of her soft, warm hand.

With effort, Xiangbao opened her misty eyes and saw a pair of long, narrow eyes fixed upon her. In her tipsy haze, she stared back, curious.

“My lady…” His cool hand caressed her cheek, and he smiled, dazzlingly beautiful.

She smiled in return.

“Ah, you consented, didn’t you?” he laughed.

Blinking sleepily at his handsome features, Xiangbao could not help but mimic his touch, running her hand lightly over his face. Fuchai started, then laughed as if accusing her, “You seduced me.”

The hand in his embrace began to move restlessly, drawing laughter from Xiangbao.

His impossibly beautiful face drew closer, his cool lips brushing hers, then trailing to her ear. “You’re mine now,” he whispered, nipping her earlobe with a laugh.

Startled, Xiangbao weakly pressed his wandering hand. His kisses rained upon her neck, his lips growing steadily warmer—no, not merely warm, but burning hot.

She had to cup his enchanting, dangerous face in her hands to stop him from further kissing her neck, but then his hand in her embrace grew more daring.

“Ah…” Xiangbao stared in shock at his mesmerizing features, feeling the heat rise between them. In that moment’s hesitation, his lips descended, kissing her deeply, the passion growing, his tongue coaxing hers into a playful dance.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but for an instant, Xiangbao thought she glimpsed true warmth in his eyes—a warmth she had never seen before. And she herself—perhaps thanks to the wine—found her fear fading.

His hands, too, grew warm, caressing her skin as though admiring a rare treasure.

Something pierced her.

“Ah!” she cried out, desperate to escape.

His breathing grew ragged as he held her tightly, refusing to let her go.

“It hurts… let me go…” she pleaded.

“Don’t move,” he murmured against her lips. “Don’t run…”

Xiangbao felt herself sinking into a dark, sweet-smelling mire—dangerous, yet intoxicating.

At last, he released her, but she was too exhausted to flee, curling in his arms and drifting into a deep, weary sleep.

“You are mine, pain or not, you are not allowed to run…” she heard his soft whisper at her ear, “You are mine.”

He held her tightly, refusing to let go.

As she slept, Xiangbao felt someone gently playing with her hair. She stirred, waving her hand as though shooing away a fly. Her hand was caught, and a low voice spoke near her ear, “Your hand is injured—don’t move.”

She opened her eyes with a start. Who was speaking?

“My lady…” Ziru entered, but upon seeing the man on the bed, her voice caught in her throat.

Xiangbao turned toward the door, noting Ziru’s bizarre expression—a look of shock followed by terror as she dropped to her knees.

“Leave,” came a cold voice from above Xiangbao’s head.

Ziru scrambled out as if she’d seen a ghost.

Xiangbao groaned, her head pounding from the hangover. Her entire body ached as though it had been shattered and reassembled.

Wait! That voice… she lifted her head in suspicion.

Fuchai!

He—he—why was he in her bed?

Her eyes widened in horror. Fuchai smiled at her, lips curving.

Only then did Xiangbao realize she was still nestled in his arms. Embarrassed, she pulled away, shifting back a little.

He raised an eyebrow, watching her with great interest, his gaze…

Xiangbao looked down—unbelievable! Then back at him…

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Her shrill scream shattered the morning calm over the Drunken Moon Pavilion.

“Shh…” His long forefinger pressed gently to her lips, his deep gaze locking with hers as he slowly shook his head.

Feeling the pressure on her lips, Xiangbao’s scream died instantly.

A long, silent moment passed.

His left eyebrow arched, a hint of laughter escaping his eyes. His finger slid from her lips, his thumb caressing them in a gesture thick with intimacy.

“My lady, do you intend your shrieks to invite the whole world to witness our night of passion?” he teased, his voice gentle as spring.

At his words, Xiangbao’s blushing cheeks grew even hotter. She ground her teeth, glaring at him.

“Why glare at me?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Xiangbao puffed out her cheeks in protest.

“I see, you’re angry, aren’t you?” He clapped in mock realization, laughing.

Still pretending! Xiangbao resisted the urge to roll her eyes, continuing her glare.

“And why are you angry?” He blinked, feigning confusion.

Grinding her teeth, she took a deep breath.

“Is it because of this?” Without warning, he leaned in and licked her lips.

Her cheeks aflame, Xiangbao pushed him away.

“You seduced me,” he said, as if accusing her.

She? Seduce him? Xiangbao was certain her expression must be on the verge of collapse.

“How did I seduce you?” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“Ah, you’re asking me?” He grinned, taking her hand and placing it on his face. “Like this… and then this… and then this…”

He placed one hand on her shoulder, the other moving…

He was all too happy to demonstrate again.

“Ah…” Xiangbao slapped his hand away.

“Aren’t you my wife?” he suddenly asked, stopping to look at her, his dark eyes unfathomable.

Xiangbao froze as memories of the previous night returned, including—Fan Li’s words.

In an instant, all color drained from her face.

“Your body is a feast for the eyes, my lady, but don’t catch cold.” He picked up a robe and wrapped it around her, smiling as he winked.

Xiangbao looked at him, her gaze blank and empty.

“Do you remember?” he asked, drawing her back into his embrace. “Do you remember last night?”

Xiangbao was silent.

“Then, do you remember what I said?” he murmured at her ear.

She shivered.

“You are mine—even if it hurts, you are not allowed to run…”