After being mercilessly taken again and again, the nights became especially hard to endure.
As a maiden, Su Ling, with her unique sensitivity, had fallen deeply into a sea of fire, all her past feelings smothered under a heavy haze. She still could hardly feel the reality of her lost innocence.
Her thighs remained numb and tingling, her body still carrying the faint ache of something newly broken. Su Ling’s mood felt like paper soaked by a gentle drizzle, crumpled ever so subtly.
She slowly curled up on the soft bed, her body involuntarily drawing itself in, like a wounded kitten seeking some shred of comfort in this small space.
“What should I do…” She covered her eyes, muttering to herself in a frail voice.
Her relationship with Sista had already been exposed, and that woman was probably still simmering with anger.
But more than herself, she worried about Tii.
The Blood Girl was not one to make empty threats. Su Ling knew, if that woman got serious, she could truly do something cruel. The title “Princess of Passion” was not for nothing.
Once Sista discovered that it was Tii who had been left behind last night, Tii would surely suffer a terrible fate.
Thinking of this, Su Ling couldn’t help but worry about her best friend.
“If only you’d been more careful… why did you have to leave evidence there…”
She turned over on the bed, sinking deeper into the pillow.
No matter what, in order to protect Tii, she must remain vigilant around Sista from now on.
She silently made up her mind in her heart.
In the lively and chaotic streets, the sounds flowed like a clear river, ringing and echoing, attracting the coming and going of the townsfolk.
Having lived for years in a closed environment, they rarely heard music, let alone such joyful melodies.
So, the servants quietly set aside their work and gathered towards the place where the Melodic Music sounded.
They arrived in front of the small banquet hall and found the Wooden Door half-open. Peeking inside, the room was lit brightly. King Steyat sat in the seat of honor, clad in his ornate crimson royal robe.
And for once, the servants saw a stranger’s face.
He was a human man, dark-skinned, with a few scars on his cheek, dressed in a tattered coat, his hair messy, and a copper circlet crisscrossing his brow. In his hand was an ancient lute, and he wandered lightly through the hall as he played.
“Who is he?” someone asked.
“No idea, looks like a beggar,” the second person replied.
“Don’t you get it? That’s a bard, the King loves listening to their songs!” the third person replied in a low, knowing voice.
“The lower-class folk are getting bolder! How dare they make such a ruckus here!”
Seeing the crowd of servants gathering, the newly appointed steward, Prus, was clearly displeased. He strode forward, shouting a few commands, but he was too short to be noticed by the crowd.
So Prus realized he lacked the charisma of his predecessor, and he let out a frustrated cry.
(That predecessor has passed away. Q@@)
Su Ling stood behind them, craning her neck, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t see inside. She could only hear fragments of the singing.
That bard supposedly made a living by singing poetry and traveling far and wide, witnessing countless tales of joy and sorrow among the common people.
With the music as his backdrop, he used his magnetic voice to tell story after story:
“Humans, ah, your lives are brief as morning thunder,
Without immortality, you will fall like the dew.
Immortality, that is a gift of the gods,
Drink fresh blood, and you shall nourish noble life.
Revere nature, and follow the laws of the divine.”
He went on to sing of the King’s wisdom, might, and great achievements. His lyrics were filled with reverence and praise for the Blood Clan. The King’s face was wreathed in smiles.
King Steyat knew full well the value of the bard’s sincerity.
Bards who traveled across the land and sang of the nobility of the Blood Clan not only helped shape the royal image, but also spread the faith and ideology of the Kingdom of Ansels, making humans willingly accept their subjugation.
Putting aside his usual harshness, King Steyat had little real talent, but he thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of being praised.
Thus, even though he usually looked cold and severe, he couldn’t help but indulge in these performances from time to time.
“Well done! Your singing is excellent!” King Steyat applauded. “Where do you come from?”
“I have made my home across the four seas; I no longer remember my birthplace,” the bard replied.
“You’re kidding! Don’t you have a father or mother?” The richly dressed little princess widened her eyes and leapt from the stairs to ask.
“Ah! What a beautiful child…”
Queen Clis hurriedly tried to stop her, but Princess Moria had already bounded up to the man, hands behind her back, tilting her head to regard him.
“What are all the things you sing about?”
“Just stories I’ve picked up along the way.”
“You must have seen many things, then.”
“More than a few.”
“Then, have you ever seen a cat that can’t catch mice? Or a dog that can talk?”
The man paused, rubbing the stubble on his cheek, then bowed his head, pretending to ponder seriously.
“I’ve only ever seen a fish that can’t catch mice.”
“That’s so funny! You’re really creative!”
The little princess burst into laughter, the King and Queen exchanging helpless looks and shaking their heads.
At last, King Steyat raised his hand: “Very well, since my beloved daughter is so fond of your performance, I’ll reward you with a bag of gold coins.”
Prus heard the King’s summons and hurriedly stepped out of the crowd. Despite his lingering displeasure at the servants’ unruly behavior, he did not dare show the slightest anger.
He quickly walked up to King Steyat, bowed, then carefully drew a heavy coin pouch from his pocket, filled to the brim with shining gold.
“As you command, Your Majesty,” Prus replied deferentially, then turned to the bard.
The bard stopped playing his lute, a glimmer of surprise flashing in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure, accepting the reward with elegance and grace.
“Thank you for your generosity, noble King, and thanks to all the kind souls who have listened to my song.”
The servants, witnessing the scene, cast envious glances his way.
After watching the lively performance, Su Ling was about to return to her original work and continue her investigation, when suddenly, she felt someone tap her lightly on the back.
“You were really absorbed, weren’t you—Little Su Ling.” It was the familiar playful voice of Tii.
As she spoke, the red-haired girl gently ran a finger down Su Ling’s cheek, then pressed close, wrapping her arms around her.
“What’s wrong? Do you like the bard? I can sing a couple of songs too—do you want to hear them?”
Su Ling tried to smile, but her mind kept drifting back to the events of last night, making her expression subtly complicated.
“Listen to me…”
Tii hadn’t finished her sentence when Su Ling subconsciously pushed her away.
“Tii, I…”
Su Ling’s voice was a little shaky, unsure how to begin.
She definitely couldn’t let Sista find out about her service. She knew all too well that Sista would not tolerate such things.
But at the same time, if Tii got hurt by Sista because of her, Su Ling would feel terribly guilty.
The two matters were impossible to weigh against each other in her heart, leaving Su Ling mentally exhausted.
“What’s wrong, Su Ling? Don’t you like me bothering you like this? Or are you not feeling well?”
In front of her, Tii looked a little dazed by Su Ling’s sudden push, blinking in confusion, her smile turning hesitant, a flash of puzzlement in her eyes.
“I’m fine, really.”
Su Ling took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
“It’s nothing, just suddenly feeling a little unwell. Maybe I’ve been standing too long,” she said, making an excuse and trying to brush it off.
“Are you sure? Should we go see the healer? Or we could find a place to sit down and rest a bit.”
“I don’t need that, um…” Su Ling hesitated, finally gathering the courage to voice what was on her mind, “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Tii arched an eyebrow, her hands still kneading Su Ling’s shoulders.
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