Chapter 30: Applying Makeup

                 

For a fleeting moment, Mingyi thought she sensed a trace of tenderness within the Yuan Power wrapped around her. Ji Bozai was a warrior through and through—such careful gentleness could only be born of affection. But she quickly steadied herself, hiding the remaining Yuan Power in her body before he could notice.

Fortunately, Ji Bozai was intent on warming her and did not inspect her meridians. The black Yuan Power coated her pale skin like an ink wash over jade, making her appear even more luminous. As he continued channeling warmth into her, his mind drifted.

“Sir,” she murmured, grasping his hand, laughing and crying all at once. Ji Bozai ignored her plea, instead biting her earlobe, pulling her into the curtains. Only then did Mingyi realize how much he’d restrained himself earlier. Once stirred for real, he was as fierce as a starved wolf.

By dawn, she still hadn’t slept. Xun Momo stood guard at first, but even she eventually fled from the noise, sending away any servants lingering nearby. The next morning, she didn’t summon anyone early. Instead, she ordered the kitchen to prepare an extravagant lunch and distributed rewards to the curious servants, claiming they were gifts from a delighted master.

The entire mansion brimmed with a celebratory air.

“How wonderful,” Zhangtai sighed enviously as she watched the maids receive rewards. “Mingyi truly married well.”

The maid beside her whispered, “I think the mistress married even better.”

Thinking of Xu Lan, Zhangtai’s heart warmed. She hurriedly asked, “Did he respond to my last letter? Did he say when he’ll come fetch me?”

The maid shook her head. “The master has been busy. No reply yet.”

The dancers at the Music Bureau had all been dismissed, leaving only a handful of musicians. Busy with what? A faint unease crept into Zhangtai’s chest, but remembering her pregnancy soothed her. Xu Lan’s wife had been childless for five years, and he had all but glowed with joy over the child she carried. He would never abandon her—if he claimed he was busy, he must truly be busy.

As she deliberated, a servant arrived. “Miss Zhang, Master Xu found an excellent prenatal medicine shop and wishes to take you there.”

Zhangtai brightened instantly. “So he was doing this for me.”

The messenger—a young servant—kept his head lowered as he said, “Miss, please wait by the back kitchen. A carriage will pick you up.”

“Alright.” Zhangtai nodded and turned to her maid. “Tell Mingyi, so she won’t worry.”

The maid was about to leave when the servant stopped her. “Miss Ming was exhausted last night and won’t wake until afternoon. Miss Zhang, please go first. I’ll inform her.”

Reassured, Zhangtai dressed with cheerful anticipation and followed him to the back kitchen. The servants, all recently rewarded, were off drinking, leaving the path empty.

She slipped quietly out of the mansion and boarded the carriage, heart full of things she wished to tell Xu Lan. But when the carriage stopped, she saw Xu Lan half-embracing another woman as they emerged from a tavern.

Drunk, the pair didn’t notice the carriage beside them. Xu Lan leaned in for a kiss, but the woman in blue dodged, lightly scolding, “Wait until we’re home. What if someone sees?”

Xu Lan chuckled. “Home or outside, you’re my new concubine. Why shouldn’t I kiss you?”

Zhangtai’s pupils shrank. She clenched her fists until they trembled.
New concubine? New concubine?
He had claimed his wife was jealous and would never allow concubines—so he couldn’t give her a title yet. How had he taken one so quickly?

Both wore plum-colored ornaments, signifying a newly established concubinage. Sending Zhangtai to Mingyi was not to reunite with a sister—it was to clear space for someone else.

Then what was she? A womb to be used and discarded? Her heartbeat thundered painfully as she gripped the seat, choking down her sobs.

The young servant, startled, stammered, “It must… it must be a misunderstanding.”

What misunderstanding could explain this?
Zhangtai stared for a long second, then abruptly stepped out of the carriage and ran toward them.

—

When Mingyi finally woke, Ji Bozai—rarely—was still there. He sat at her bedside, practicing Yuan Power. A black dragon-shaped aura unfurled from his brow, drew in surrounding energy, then curled back into his abdomen.

It was an ostentatious and wholly impractical method—something used only to dazzle foolish young girls. Unfortunately, today, she happened to be that foolish young girl.

Taking a deep breath, she sat up with a soft “Wow,” exclaiming, “Sir, you’re amazing!”

Ji Bozai looked over his shoulder, pride flickering in his eyes despite his feigned indifference. “Awake?”

Rubbing her sore waist, Mingyi whispered an answer, then slipped from the bed to sit at the dressing table. The late-afternoon light streamed through the window, scattering floral-shaped patterns across her forehead.

Ji Bozai’s gaze shifted. He stepped behind her, picked up a fine brush, dipped it in gold powder from a porcelain box, and gently touched it to her brow.

In the bronze mirror, her face glowed—radiant lips, bright teeth, autumn eyes gleaming like ripened fruit. The faint gold mark added a touch of regal grace.

Mingyi smiled at him through the mirror. “It’s rare for you to have such refined interests.”

A satisfied smirk pulled at his lips. He tossed the brush aside and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Being with Yi’er brings out my refined side.”

With that, he lifted her by the waist. Mingyi flushed. “Sir, I just did my makeup.”

“It’s dusk. Who’s there to see your makeup?”

“…” He had a point.

As candlelight flickered and the curtains swayed, Mingyi felt there was something she had forgotten—but his kisses drowned every thought.

—

The next morning, after Ji Bozai headed to the inner courtyard, someone slipped to her window, careful to avoid Xun Momo, who had gone to fetch breakfast.

“Sir,” the messenger whispered, “there’s been an incident.”

Mingyi stiffened, her expression sharpening instantly.

A Sacrificial Officer rarely had many duties—only occasional clan matters requiring verification. Ji Bozai usually visited the inner courtyard every few days, free to rest by afternoon.

But today, as he entered, he ran into Zhao Sipan. Zhao Sipan had searched every fabric shop in the city and found only one precious bolt of Mulan green cloth—unrelated to the Ji family and not for sale.

Yet he planted himself in Ji Bozai’s path.

Ji Bozai’s face remained calm, though faint impatience colored it. Zhao Sipan smiled. “I didn’t expect Lord Ji to also have an eye for Mulan green.”

“What do you mean, Lord Zhao?”

“Lord Ji, perhaps you’ve forgotten. Early this year, when you first rose to prominence, Prince Gong sent you several chests of fine fabric. Among them… was there not a piece of Mulan green? I wonder—what did it become?”

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