Xie Caiqing’s hand immediately dropped, his eyes widening as he stared at him.
He knew Xiao Yun had come out.
But he hadn’t entirely done it on purpose.
He thought—he had assumed—Xiao Yun would take pity on him and spare him from removing his clothes.
But he…
“Why are you looking at me like that? Unwilling?” Xiao Yun smirked lazily, pretending to reconsider. “Then let’s—”
“…I’m willing.” Xie Caiqing squeezed the words out from between his teeth.
“Come here.” Xiao Yun beckoned him.
The court officials grinned teasingly.
Xie Caiqing slowly, hesitantly, stepped forward.
Xiao Yun drawled, “The Top Scholar is so shy, and he’s as pretty as a young maiden. I should show some mercy—but the punishment stands. My dear ministers, any objections?”
The officials roared with laughter. “None!”
Xie Caiqing looked at him in shock.
Xiao Yun grabbed his wrist and effortlessly dragged him inside.
Xie Caiqing passively resisted, but Xiao Yun was far stronger. He easily pulled him through the palace doors.
With Xiao Yun’s strength and towering build, Xie Caiqing had no room for resistance.
If he wanted to, Xiao Yun could throw him over his shoulder, carry him away, or even—
Watching the scene unfold, Xie Zhe found himself thinking they looked unexpectedly well-matched.
Once inside, the palace doors closed. The court officials were left outside, and the palace attendants, dismissed by Xiao Yun’s wave, retreated.
Now, only the two of them remained.
“Your Majesty… Could I keep my trousers on?”
“Your Majesty…”
“Your Majesty, I’m not trying to make things difficult for you. I don’t want special treatment—I can accept a pay cut or a demotion. But… could I keep my trousers on?”
The more he spoke, the softer his voice became, tinged with a quiet urgency and plea.
Xiao Yun remained silent, unmoved.
He stood before Xie Caiqing, making it impossible for him to see his expression. Xie Caiqing could only grit his teeth.
In the end, what did it matter if Xiao Yun saw him? He—he would see it eventually. It was just a beating…
But Xiao Yun was strong—far stronger than the guards. And last night…
A hint of something unreadable crossed Xie Caiqing’s face. Slowly, his cheeks flushed red.
“Your Majesty…”
Xiao Yun still didn’t speak. The air felt stiflingly oppressive. He suddenly grabbed Xie Caiqing’s wrist and dragged him toward the table, letting out a cold laugh.
Xie Caiqing had no time to react before Xiao Yun unceremoniously pushed him forward.
Caught off guard, Xie Caiqing found himself pressed against the table, arms curling in to shield his head.
The table was a little high, forcing him to keep his legs straight and knees locked, his back taut. The stretched posture accentuated the curve of his waist, the lines of his body even more defined—lean, fluid, and startlingly alluring.
His face was flush against the tabletop. His cleanliness instinct flared up, his mind fixating on whether the surface was dirty. Anxiety crept in, scattering his thoughts.
Softly, half-genuine and half-pleading, he murmured, “Your Majesty…”
Xiao Yun’s voice was cold and sharp. “Stay put. No moving. Who told you to speak? Who taught you such lack of discipline? You make a mistake, and now you want to avoid punishment? Move once, speak one more word, and I’ll strike you an extra time.”
Xie Caiqing pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath. He neither spoke nor moved. His slender fingers clutched the table’s edge, trembling ever so slightly.
“Afraid of pain or of shame?”
“…Shame.”
“If you keep them on, I won’t hold back.”
Xiao Yun’s voice was deep and unhurried, but utterly devoid of warmth.
Xie Caiqing let out a barely audible “Mm,” his voice hoarse, his heartbeat erratic.
Earlier, he had chosen “shame” in front of the minister. Now, he had to stick with it to the end.
There was no escaping it either way—he had to endure it.
Behind him came the sound of a heavy rod being lifted. Xie Caiqing clenched his teeth, shut his eyes tightly, his entire body tensed, breath coming in shallow spurts.
“Afraid of pain?”
Xie Caiqing had clearly prepared himself—both mentally and physically—but that sudden question threw him off. It took him a moment to relax his clenched jaw and retrieve his voice from his taut nerves. He trembled as he replied, “N-never been beaten before… I’m scared—”
The next second, without warning, the man behind him swung the rod. A trail of afterimage followed in its wake, accompanied by a fierce whoosh of air from the force.
Xie Caiqing had just barely relaxed and had no time to brace himself again. His breathing hitched. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the table tightly.
He reminded himself—even now, he mustn’t lose composure.
But the expected pain never came.
Confused, Xie Caiqing opened his eyes slightly. A beat later, a loud and solid “smack” echoed across the empty bedchamber.
Xie Caiqing froze for a second, then his entire face flushed crimson. He buried his face, wishing he could disappear into a crack in the ground.
He was going to kill Xiao Yun!
The voice behind him no longer carried the cold tone from earlier, but rather amusement and teasing. It was low and mocking: “I was thinking—our top scholar fears not pain, but shame. And since you made such a serious mistake, of course I need to make sure you remember it. I’ll treat you with what you fear most. Otherwise, wouldn’t I be too kind? This way works better for memory, doesn’t it?”
To stop Xie Caiqing from squirming, Xiao Yun’s large hand gripped one side of his waist, palm full of soft, supple flesh.
Trying to evade the heat of that intrusive hand, Xie Caiqing straightened up, but it only got him restrained even more tightly.
Another smack came down—not painful, but loud. With every crisp pa, Xie Caiqing’s eyes burned red with shame.
Shameless. Vulgar.
Filthy scoundrel.
Just wait.
Xiao Yun raised his hand high each time, building anticipation, letting it stew before bringing it down hard—never holding back.
He slowly counted aloud: “Eight… nine… ten…”
The sensation in his hand was unlike anything else—more alluring than anything he’d touched before. Addictive. He was tempted to remove the bothersome clothing and truly explore.
He started hitting faster now, no longer counting. The rhythm grew more fluid, the sounds more intimate—embarrassingly so.
Now and then, Xie Caiqing would let out a faint gasp through clenched teeth.
The table shook gently; with each movement from Xiao Yun, Xie Caiqing’s body shivered.
Suddenly, Xiao Yun leaned down.
Xie Caiqing felt the approach and every pore tensed. He couldn’t see what was happening behind him, but he could sense the man hovering dangerously close, breath scalding against his back. That heat seeped into his skin, spreading a feverish dizziness through him.
They weren’t even touching, yet it felt closer than if they were pressed together.
A primal warning screamed in his head—this was the danger of being claimed, of being made to bear heirs. His scalp tingled, his heart pounded. Instinctively he tried to run, but his wrists were pinned, body immobilized. All he could do was flatten himself lower against the table.
Xiao Yun brushed aside the damp strands of black hair sticking to Xie Caiqing’s sweat-beaded face, gave him another swat, then leaned sideways to meet his gaze. He chuckled lowly: “Does the top scholar know his mistake now?”
Their eyes met. Xiao Yun’s face was only a breath away—any closer and their high-bridged noses would collide. In Xie Caiqing’s pupils reflected Xiao Yun’s black eyes, full of amusement and mischief.
Xiao Yun thought he’d turn away in shame.
But Xie Caiqing seemed stunned. He stared directly back, dark eyes shining with moisture. His temples were damp, his pores relaxed, cheeks tinged with alluring blush. His full lips parted faintly, as if unconsciously inviting something—an irresistible temptation that begged to be tasted.
His chest rose and fell rapidly. In his gaze was nothing but Xiao Yun’s reflection. Every exhale came warm. The sweat on his skin exuded a subtle, bone-deep fragrance that seeped into the senses and tugged at some unnamed string.
His entire being had become something enigmatic, bottomless, irresistibly mysterious—beckoning to be explored, possessed, unraveled.
Xie Caiqing whispered, “Your Majesty…”
A nerve deep in Xiao Yun’s brain snapped, and the tremor spread like wildfire through every part of him.
