Chapter 7: Dark Prison
"Fish I desire; bear's paw I also desire. If I cannot have both, I forsake the fish for the bear's paw. Life I desire; righteousness I also desire. If I cannot have both, I forsake life for righteousness…"
A child's recitation drifted faintly into the wooden cabin, likely from a nearby private school. Xue Chongxun, poised to speak, fell silent instead, sitting motionless for a long while.
The room grew stifling. Initially pleasant warmth turned sweltering as Xue replenished the heated stones. Sweat glistened on both their skins.
Yuwen Ji glared bitterly. "What do you want?"
Ignoring her, Xue opened a hidden wall compartment and retrieved a coil of hemp rope. "In ancient times, knots governed society," he mused, unfurling it leisurely. "By the Zhou dynasty, their uses multiplied. Now it's an art. Courtesans master twenty-four skills—ropework essential. Recall the torturer Fu Youyi from my grandmother's reign?"
"A villain! What's your point?" Impatience edged her voice, hostility replacing former warmth.
Xue smiled. "Fu was a rope virtuoso. Merely reminiscing."
Yuwen Ji paled, comprehension dawning. "You're… disgusting!" She lunged upright.
"Halt!" Xue's voice cracked like ice. "Your father's crimes stain the heavens. Think Gao Lishi's patronage shields him? Disrupt the Grand Canal—you oppose the Tang itself. Annihilation would be mercy for your house!"
She collapsed onto the barbarian-style chair, lips ravaging their rouge.
"Stay until dusk," Xue said calmly, "and I bury your family's sins. Let your father 'reform' or 'atone'—no concern of mine."
After interminable silence, she whispered, "I agree."
"Good. Now disrobe."
Tears welled as layers slipped away—slow, agonizing as silkworms shedding cocoons. Her body emerged like spring bamboo after rain: dewy, flawless, curves ripe as fruit. Yet Xue merely remarked, "Your legs aren't hideous."
The offhand tone paradoxically eased her. "First time… seen like this." Grief tinged her voice, mourning lost purity.
Xue changed into loose robes, meticulously washed his hands, and returned. Yuwen Ji now crouched, arms crossed over chest and thighs, though the sauna-like heat drenched them both.
As he lifted the rope, she pleaded, "How will you torment me?"
"Struggle ruins the knots. Once bound, thrash freely." Xue adjusted the adjustable chair, forcing her into reclined exposure. "What's inevitable deserves artistry. I'll savor this—perhaps you will too."
The once-vivacious woman became a sacrificial lamb. Arms bound overhead, elbows bent and lashed, her chest thrust forward helplessly. Rouge deepened to scarlet as she clenched her eyes shut.
Binding her legs proved fiercer. She clamped them tight until Xue's fingers left pale bruises on her thighs. When finally parted, her defenses crumbled—exhausted, resigned.
"Release me…" Her plea dissolved into whimpers as ropes abraded tender flesh, blush spreading across her body like spilled wine.
"Thirsty?" Xue taunted after hours of tension. At her nod, he gulped tea himself, then leaned close with pursed lips.
Revulsion warred with parched desperation. As Xue threatened to discard the water, Yuwen Ji surrendered. Their mouths met—tea bittersweet, his hands igniting tremors where they touched her bare shoulders.
When he embraced her fully, she didn't resist. Lips trailed downward—jaw, ear, neck—until his tongue flicked a pebbled peak. A whimper escaped her, primal and musical.
Her body arched—spine taut, veins standing stark on her neck, breath hitching—as Xue suddenly withdrew, leaving her suspended between agony and ecstasy.
The cabin simmered with unspent heat, ropes creaking like the groans of history itself.
Chapter 8: Withering
"Indigo plumes, oceans overturned—how sever Peach Isle's lingering love? Longing greens the willow camp. Adrift alone, shadow companionless—letters severed by deep waters, futile sorrows linger. To end love, yet love persists…"
In the stifling wooden hut, amidst swirling steam, Xue Chongxun tilted his head and recited the lyrics of Endless Longing, a tune from the Jiaofangsi of Daming Palace. The captive beauty, Yuwen Ji, writhed beneath his paused touch, her flushed face a blend of shame and desperation. "Come back!" she pleaded.
Xue returned but withheld the caresses that had unraveled her soul. "Endless Longing," he murmured. "Do you feel it now?"
"Don't stop… like before," Yuwen Ji begged, cheeks blooming like peach blossoms in spring.
His hand traced her curves. "A rare flower, radiant virtue… soft bones, tender flesh. Smooth as jade…"
…
Steam thickened, sweat scalding, yet when Xue breached her maidenhood, her tears on his skin felt icy. "Will you marry me?" she asked dully.
Xue knew her passion had been fleeting instinct—now clinging to him as salvage. "This is playacting," he said coldly.
…
Cruelty: a shared sin, borne alone. Emerging from the hut, Yuwen Ji watched apricot petals swirl from the courtyard tree, withering mid-flight.
The carriage home carried a spy from Feng Yuanjun's household. Soon her shame would blaze. How to face her family, her betrothed?
Dusk cloaked Chang'an's alleys. Home—once safe—now loomed like a beast's maw. Even in Tang's liberal age, lost virtue damned a woman.
Returning, she found the courtyard swarmed with strangers. Feng Yuanjun, Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices—short, purple-robed, eyes ablaze—confronted her. "Where were you?"
"Misty Pavilion. Your superior invited me."
"What transpired?"
"Nothing."
Her father, Yuwen Xiao—gaunt, weathered like a vagrant—stood silent.
"Nothing?" Feng snapped. "A midwife will examine you. She served the palace—no mistakes."
The midwife's verdict came: "Ruined. Rope marks… Jiaofangsi techniques."
Feng trembled with rage. "Remove your cap, Yuwen Xiao! Return to peddling!"
After Feng stormed out, Yuwen Ji knelt before her father. "I've shamed our house. Punish me."
The old man raised her gently. "My sins, not yours. Why suffer for me?"
"Let's abandon politics," she wept. "Return to tea trade, live honestly."
Yuwen Xiao's gaze hardened. "Feng won't allow it. Xue Chongxun's threat remains… but if we pivot to the Xue clan, under Princess Taiping's wing…"
Yuwen Ji recoiled. "Xue is heartless! He vowed never to wed me."
Her father pressed, "A duke, the princess's heir—would he scheme for you without fondness?"
"No! He's a monster!"
Yet as apricot petals settled like snow, Yuwen Ji's world dimmed—a flower crushed, its fragrance fleeting.