Chapter 77: Otter or Snake? Sima Jiao’s Summer Palace Secrets
The Summer Palace was built by the late Emperor as a retreat from the sweltering heat. Though not as cruel as Sima Jiao, he had been no less troublesome to his ministers—indulgent, fond of beauty, and prone to whims. Compared to the solemn grandeur of Yan City’s main palace, this place was exquisite, ornate, and breathtaking in its detail.
Nestled at the foot of Liyun Mountain and ringed by rivers and peaks, the palace was small but full of scenic delights. In summer, it was cool and serene—an ideal escape.
Sima Jiao had rarely lingered here in past years, usually staying only a few days. But this time, with his Noble Consort at his side, he had the attendants scrub every stone and polish every hall until the long-abandoned palace gleamed as if newly built.
Liao Tingyan took to it at once. Compared to stifling Yan City, the Summer Palace was a quiet paradise. A mountain stream flowed behind it, almost identical to the pool they once bathed in at Gengchen Immortal Mansion—save that it lacked spiritual energy.
Those few painful days each month passed easier with the stream. She spent hours there, floating in the cool water while Sima Jiao lingered nearby, never far from her side.
For a man who had only just discovered physical pleasure, he was alarmingly enthusiastic. Liao Tingyan often wondered how the stoic ancestor she had first known had managed to pretend so well—his austere restraint, his cold composure, all now revealed as nothing more than centuries of shouldering the burden of his “Master Ancestor” image. The young Emperor had no such restraint.
One afternoon, Liao Tingyan floated lazily in the stream, tapping a branch in the water. She flicked a few drops at Sima Jiao, who sat on the bank in his dark robe. He dodged with a lazy tilt of his head, gaze fixed wholly on her.
She remembered Hong Luo’s teasing words: He’s completely infatuated with you.
Back then, she had dismissed it. Sima Jiao, to her, was always calm, always deliberate—even in death. How could such a man be “infatuated”? But now, as his eyes followed her with naked adoration, she understood.
He was.
And for the first time, Liao Tingyan felt a flicker of shyness.
She turned her head toward the sky. He came closer, one hand braced in the stream, his tall figure blocking her view.
“…What are you doing?” she asked.
He only smiled, mischievous, and flicked two drops of water onto her cheek. She closed her eyes on instinct, only to feel his fingertip trace the droplets.
Childish, she thought, and splashed him in return before darting to the bank. She stood laughing on a rock, hair dripping, while he sat wiping water from his face.
“Childish,” he drawled, smirking.
“…You’re one to talk.”
The playful quarrel devolved into splashing until both were drenched, laughter ringing across the valley. Life here was lazy, almost idyllic. Even Sima Jiao lounged about now, imitating her salted-fish ways, freed from centuries of chains.
But peace, for an emperor, never lasted long.
That night, she woke to a prickle of unease. Without opening her eyes, she spread her divine consciousness—assassins. They crept like shadows across the grounds, but to her they glowed like red dots on a game map.
She nudged Sima Jiao three times. “Someone’s come to assassinate you.”
He cracked one eye, then closed it again, pulling her back into his arms. “Only four months this time. They’re getting worse.”
Outside, his hidden attendants tore the intruders apart in silence.
When a stronger wave came later, she shook him awake again.
“If you’re not sleeping, don’t wake me either,” he muttered.
“…I learned this from you,” she shot back.
The fight outside escalated—one assassin broke through, heading for the black snake’s quarters.
“Our son,” Sima Jiao called it. The fruit of their love.
She almost choked on laughter. Still, when she said, “Someone’s heading for Sisi,” he was out of bed in an instant, sword in hand, barefoot, storming out.
By the time they reached the chambers, the assassin was already halfway down the black snake’s throat. Startled, the serpent swallowed him whole.
“…,” Sima Jiao said.
The snake slithered back into the form of a black-haired child and swung his legs innocently at the bed’s edge.
“…,” Sima Jiao repeated.
Liao Tingyan buried her face in her hands.
When he looked at her, his expression complicated, she blurted, “I’m not a snake demon!”
“I don’t mind,” he said gravely.
“…I mind!”
The argument spiraled absurdly into child-rearing. Why did the snake eat people? Why couldn’t he speak? Whose fault was it? Eventually, Sima Jiao redirected the blame to the child himself, commanding him to spit out what he ate.
Later, lying in bed, Sima Jiao pinched her waist. “Show me your true form.”
“I can’t.”
“You were injured, so you can’t return to your original body?”
“Because I’m not a snake demon.”
“You’re angry.”
“…Fine, watch this.”
Before his eyes, she transformed into a sleek otter. “See? This is my true form.”
He fell silent, staring. An otter.
Then he lifted her into his arms. “So you’re an otter demon. It suits you. I think… I’ve seen you like this before.”
Liao Tingyan: …Why did I marry a man whose brain leaks water every time he bathes?
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