“Han Yi.”
The silver-haired girl’s icy blue eyes moved slightly, which counted as a response.
“Guard this place well, guard… her.”
Shen Mo instructed word by word, his gaze turning to the gloomy sky outside the hall.
“Before I return, don’t let her leave your sight. If anyone tries to harm her… no matter who it is, kill them.”
Having given the only arrangements he could, Shen Mo hesitated no longer.
He knew what this trip meant.
It meant stepping into that icy Profound Ice Prison once more.
It meant willingly delivering himself into the hands of that stubborn, domineering woman who craved control.
It meant personally severing his last shred of hope for dignity.
But for Wan’er… he had no other choice.
Under the gloomy sky, the towering mountain gate of Heavenly Sword Peak stood like a dormant beast, silently looming at the edge of sight.
He took a deep breath and shouted, his voice not loud but carrying a desperate determination that pierced the biting mountain wind.
“Jiaoyue Peak Lord Shen Mo… requests an audience.”
The Sword Qi Barrier opened.
Heavenly Sword Peak—
Quiet Room.
No lamps were lit. Only the cold moonlight filtered through the sparse icy bars of the high window, casting fragmented, pale patches of light on the floor.
Qin Shuying sat behind the desk, one hand lightly resting on the armrest, the other holding the sword manual she had been reading all evening— without absorbing a single word.
Her long, fair legs, crossed in a seated posture, peeked out from the high slit of her skirt.
Her temperament was like the cold moon hanging high in the sky, carrying an aloofness that kept others at a distance.
She looked up at the man before her, disdain clear in her eyes.
She should have been happy.
But now that he was standing here, looking like this, the joy that ought to be there simply wouldn’t surface.
“Su Wan’er is going to die? What’s that to me?” she said, her voice cold as ice. “I’d be thrilled.”
She saw the rims of his eyes redden a little more.
“Shuying,” he called to her again, his voice even hoarser than before. “I beg you.”
Qin Shuying’s chest ached sharply.
It was a heavy ache—so heavy she almost couldn’t hold onto the manual in her hand.
She gritted her teeth, pushed the pain down, and put on an even colder expression.
“Beg me? With what?”
“Shuying,” he took a step forward. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it.”
Qin Shuying looked at him, at this utterly humbled version of him.
The feeling of something grating against her eyes grew only stronger.
‘What does she want?’
‘She wants him. She wants him to stay by her side willingly.’
‘She wants him to forget Su Wan’er.’
‘She wants his eyes to be only on her.’
But here he stood now, saying “whatever you want, I’ll give,” yet his eyes were full of someone else’s shadow.
‘Then what was she?’
“It’s not enough to just lower your posture with words,” she heard her own voice, cold as a knife. “I need to see your actual actions.”
Shen Mo looked at her for a long time.
He moved.
His steps carried the weight of a last desperate gamble.
Then came the second step, the third… He walked slowly, as if each step was a futile struggle against his own dignity.
He kept his head down, the stray strands of hair covering most of his face, revealing only his tightly pressed, pale lips and a slightly trembling jaw.
Qin Shuying watched him approach silently, watched him stop just one step away from her seat.
Then, slowly, with a posture almost like an offering, he bent his knees.
He didn’t fully kneel, but instead adopted a low, submissive stance— half crouching, half kneeling at her feet.
At this height, he could just look level with the hem of her skirt.
Qin Shuying lowered her gaze.
He crouched down in front of her, looking up at her.
He had made this pose many times before.
But this time was different.
This time, he had chosen it himself.
He raised his hand and lightly placed it on her knee.
The touch was very light, as if testing something, or as if confirming something.
Qin Shuying’s breath faltered for a moment.
Half an hour later—
Qin Shuying was like a boneless little cat, collapsing limply into the wicker chair, her feet kicking absently in the air, one embroidered shoe dangling half off her toes.
Her ink-black hair spread across the floor like a black blanket, a few strands playfully sticking to her flushed cheeks.
Her eyes were moist, like a newborn fawn’s, gazing dazedly at the ceiling.
Feeling a bit itchy perhaps, she scratched randomly at her body with both small hands, touching her neck, rubbing her chest— no pattern whatsoever, yet her awkwardness made it especially alluring.
Her soft lower lip was marked with a deep row of teeth prints.
Maybe because of the wild play earlier, the bare skin revealed a healthy pink, fine beads of sweat like morning dew on flower petals, crystalline, carrying a sweet milky scent.
At the peak of her relaxation and pleasure, Shen Mo, who had been obedient until now, suddenly stopped.
He raised his hand and, with the back of it, wiped his lips repeatedly and harshly, as if punishing himself.
The force was so strong that the red, chapped lips oozed drops of fresh blood.
“Is that enough! Haah… haah…”
Qin Shuying slowly sat up straight, tidied her slightly loosened clothes, and the lazy blush on her face quickly faded.
“Mind your attitude. You’re the one begging me.”
It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on him, dousing most of his fire, leaving only deeper despair.
Yes… he was the one begging her.
He was the one who came willingly, who served willingly.
What right did he have to roar?
What right did he have to feel humiliated?
“…S-sorry… I… lost my composure…”
She didn’t like seeing him like this—dying for Su Wan’er, then enduring humiliation in front of her.
After a long pause, Qin Shuying suddenly let out a soft sigh.
Gone was the earlier sharpness, replaced by a tone almost coaxing.
“Shen Mo,” she called to him. “Why… can’t you just try to accept reality?”
Shen Mo’s body trembled almost imperceptibly, but he didn’t look up.
“After Su Wan’er… passes away.”
She paused, observing Shen Mo’s suddenly clenched fists and stiffer back, but she continued anyway.
“I’ll marry you. Isn’t that good?”
Shen Mo’s head shot up, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“We… are the most compatible, the best match, aren’t we?”
“I know she’s in your heart.” Qin Shuying’s tone softened further.
“Su Wan’er is, after all, your lawfully wedded wife. You had seven years together, even if it was a marriage in name only. I can accept… her existence in your heart.”
She took a step forward. “As long as… from now on, you sincerely stay by my side.”
“Let me take care of you, protect you, give you everything you want.”
“Isn’t that… good?”
Shen Mo frowned. “Peak Master Qin, please have some self-respect.”
He began to straighten his clothes, pausing for a moment on the ties, then gathered his loose collar again.
He braced himself against the floor to stand up, but his legs were a bit weak.
He had been kneeling too long, his knees pressed against the cold stone, numb and painful.
“Did I say I was satisfied?”