Chapter 67 Safety: “Locking you up is a lifetime matter.”

Chapter 67: Peace: Locking You Down Is a Lifelong Affair

As dusk settled, except for a streak of deep purple sunset on the western horizon, the Xie residence was entirely shrouded in monotonous darkness. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, the stars dim, and it had reached a point where one couldn’t see the path without a lantern.

A spider’s web in the wind was pitifully torn and drifted away. Xie Tanwei stepped on the spring leaves, returning home stained with the chill of spring. The Qiutong Hall was brightly lit, with young servants and maids trembling outside, who, upon seeing the Lord, held their breath and bowed in succession.

Inside, Xian Qiu sat upright in the main seat with a displeased expression. Tian Qin sat beside her like a sinner, her head deeply buried, while the two imperial physicians stood by with their medicine boxes, facing off.

As Xie Tanwei entered, everyone’s eyes gathered on him at once.

At that moment, Xie Tanwei felt like an emperor, with the whole household waiting for him to pass judgment. But he wasn’t the emperor; he was just an ordinary husband taking care of his wife and sister.

“What’s the matter, everyone?” he asked with a half-cold smile, having faced the intrigues of the official court during the day and now having to deal with the household’s affairs at night.

The two imperial physicians immediately knelt before him, addressing him as “Master,” while Xian Qiu, her face iron-gray, held up a forged letter, accusing Tian Qin of reckless behavior, even daring to misuse the seal of an Imperial Official.

Tian Qin, on the other hand, looked desolate and dejected, her eyes red and bloodshot, as if drenched in a storm, pitiful and wretched.

Xie Tanwei had already roughly understood the situation on his way over. In truth, he didn’t need to understand; he could guess it more or less.

Tian Qin had secretly misused the seal of the Xie Clan Lord, forged a letter, and had the two imperial physicians treat her for a strange illness, only to be found out later.

When his gaze swept over her, it was calm, without anger, without fluctuation, not even icy cold—more like an indifferent understanding, as if handling something whose outcome he had long known.

Tian Qin instinctively shuddered and shrank her shoulders. Only she and he understood that terrifying look.

Xian Qiu didn’t know what strange illness Tian Qin had; she suspected she was mentally unstable or having a delusion, actually daring to trifle with the official seal.

“Husband, take a look at this letter.”

Xian Qiu’s willow-leaf brows shot up, a departure from her usual kind and gentle demeanor.

But Xie Tanwei didn’t even glance at it. He walked directly to Tian Qin, who was sitting there lost and dejected, and in a protective gesture, he held her, rubbing her head. His tone was both gentle and cold, indescribably protective: “I said if anything happens, come to your brother-in-law. Why are you crying again?”

Tian Qin shivered, stunned. Not only Tian Qin was stunned; everyone was.

Yu Tianqin had misused the clan lord’s seal and deceived the imperial physicians—an offense worthy of being sent to the authorities. Everyone expected this cousin to be thrown out, or at least subjected to a storm of reprimands.

But Xie Tanwei glossed over it with a single light remark, as if Tian Qin had done nothing wrong and everyone was bullying her. For the usually impartial and principled Saint Xie, this was unprecedented.

In the eyes of the clan lord, it was nothing.

Xian Qiu was filled with bitterness and urgency, calling out, “Husband…!”

Xie Tanwei acted as if he hadn’t heard.

Between the model couple, there was an invisible barrier—no marital warmth, only distance.

Tian Qin gradually came to her senses in Xie Tanwei’s arms. She lifted her head, her tears smearing onto his robe. Trapped between the husband and wife, she was in an awkward position, like a pitiful third party.

The two imperial physicians knelt and explained the course of events. It was clear that Xie Tanwei was indeed their mentor and teacher, and their reverence for him was not just based on authority but a deep-seated, wholehearted admiration.

Seeing the intimate posture between Xie Tanwei and Tian Qin, they belatedly realized that Tian Qin was a concubine kept in the shadows. Offending her wouldn’t do. They had been too reckless earlier and repeatedly apologized.

Xie Tanwei was a reasonable man and didn’t blame them. He only said Tian Qin was a young sister at home, not understanding things, and he would discipline her himself. He thanked the two physicians for their trouble and said they should go to the accounting office to receive compensation, and he would handle the rest.

The two imperial physicians had been personally trained by Xie Tanwei and usually served the emperor. They were truly trusted members of the Xie family. Naturally, they wouldn’t let such a small matter ruin the teacher-student relationship.

They withdrew with perfect etiquette.

The most uncomfortable person caught in the middle was Xian Qiu. She didn’t understand what “gu” was—a strange illness, or Tian Qin’s illusion? What illness did Tian Qin have that was worth the risk of secretly seeking out imperial physicians, and hiding it from her, her own sister?

In all honesty, she had been good to this half-sister—enough to warm a block of ice. Tian Qin was simply an ungrateful wretch.

“Husband, Tian’er forged the seal. Such a serious matter—aren’t you going to investigate it?”

Xie Tanwei came over, without distinguishing right from wrong, only comforting Tian Qin, ignoring everyone else.

“Come with me,” he said curtly to Tian Qin.

“Husband…!”

Xian Qiu took a few steps after him, unable to hide her sorrow. She finally understood one thing: her husband truly doted on Tian Qin. He had always been this way—even back then, he was willing to destroy the Yu family and divorce her to have Tian Qin.

In daily life, he could be gentle with her, but when faced with a major choice between her and Tian Qin, his choice was always Tian Qin.

He didn’t give Tian Qin a title—that was a private matter between him and Tian Qin—but that didn’t mean others could trample over her. As the Clan Matriarch, if she wanted to stay in the Xie family for long, she had to consider Tian Qin, the concubine.

Xian Qiu collapsed into a chair, trembling, watching their retreating figures. Her tears soaked the letter, and her heart felt as if it had shattered into eight pieces.

He was always like this—doing things his own way, never sparing a thought for her feelings when it wasn’t necessary, not even for appearances. Today, Tian Qin was clearly in the wrong, yet he still confused right and wrong and took Tian Qin’s side.

“Madam, the lord is in a bad mood today. Don’t provoke him; calm down first,” said Zi Wan, coming to support her.

Xian Qiu could at first hold back her quiet sobs, but then her sorrow burst the dam, turning into a complete, heart-wrenching wail.

She had tasted the bitterness of loving without being loved in return.

…

Tian Qin wasn’t much better off. Because of the secret relationship with Xie Tanwei, she was even more miserable.

The midnight silence echoed in the dark bamboo grove of the Painting Garden. The cold night was like a drawn bowstring. Occasionally, a crow or two flapped its wings, accompanied by hoarse cries, giving the tranquil atmosphere a bizarre and grim vibe.

No matter how good Xie Tanwei seemed to others, when they were alone, the primal, demonic coldness showed itself. He would make her pay dearly for her rebellion.

Tian Qin knew she was in big trouble. Life or death—she had become indifferent to it.

When Zhaolu entered to trim the lamp wick, she saw Tian Qin kneeling upright in the dim, yellow-lit room, her skirt spread out like a lotus leaf. Xie Tanwei sat opposite her, his long legs crossed, holding a whip that sent chills down one’s spine without anger or heat.

Zhaolu clenched her palms, covering her face, unable to help. Nanny Chen forcefully pulled her out. They were all lowly maids; the lord could have them beaten to death with a single word. Rushing in rashly wouldn’t save the young lady but would only drag her down.

“Was it fun?” Xie Tanwei asked quietly.

Tian Qin blinked her crow-black lashes but didn’t speak.

“Misusing the seal, writing a secret letter, deceiving the imperial physicians, trying to secretly undo the Love Gu. Little sister is more clever and daring than I imagined.”

He listed her offenses without any emotional

Xie Tanwei spoke in a cold, flat voice. "You were this close, but you blew it. If it weren't for the Love Gu recognizing only my heart's blood, little sister, you'd have shattered that golden cage and flown free by now, grabbed the freedom you've been dreaming of."

Tian Qin's bitter smile deepened, beyond remedy.

It was also the first time she realized the Love Gu actually required his heart's blood as the key ingredient. Stabbing a long needle into his heart to draw blood—he was asking for death, using such a suicidal method to completely shackle her.

The Love Gu wasn't just a love curse—it was the lifeline tying them together.

"You're insane, a madman. You'll get what's coming to you. One day you'll rot in hell."

Tian Qin thrashed her upper body violently, trying to release her completely shattered feelings, but her knees could not leave the ground. Kneeling—kneeling without dignity, until her knees turned bruised and purple, until cold sweat drenched her body—that's how she talked to him after messing up.

"If it's ever undone, you'll die," she said.

"Why the hell would I undo it?" Xie Tanwei asked with a blank expression, his coldness bone-deep. He leaned down slightly, the rough whip handle bluntly lifted her delicate chin, scraping a small patch of skin red as it chafed, making her flinch and grimace in pain, helpless tears spilling over.

"Locking you down was always for life. Little sister still foolishly dreams of undoing it one day?"

Once the Love Gu was planted, in his mind there was no such thing as undoing it. That's why he dared to raise it with his own heart's blood.

Tian Qin was cornered by his whip, with no escape, but her knees were glued to the ground, couldn't budge an inch. The black whip was rough and stiff, originally used to tame unruly beasts, forming a stark contrast with her slender, fair swan-like neck.

The more distressed she got, the more faint smiles crept onto Xie Tanwei's face, and the more he intensified his brutal mistreatment. Her fear and cries fed him, and fed the whip too, making this fear-based training more rewarding.

"Cry. Let me hear it."

He increased the pressure, chastising her.

"Wuu..."

Tian Qin's mind was a wreck, numb, and she couldn't help but miss the cold him from her past life. Back then, he was the aloof clan leader, never interfered with her—how easy her days had been.

Only when he turned all his dark side toward her did she feel the pressure, every inch of her bones about to be crushed.

The Love Gu was only superficial; the real lock was his dark, twisted heart. The venom streaming from his heart could, in turn, unlock the Love Gu.

She had schemed to steal his seal, carefully mimicking his tone and handwriting, believing she had at least half a chance of success—but she hadn't even known the most crucial step: without his heart's blood, even if she gathered all the famed doctors of the realm, they could not budge the Love Gu an inch.

All her scheming was for nothing.

Nothing was crueler than this: the answer was plain as day, and he didn't even bother to hide it, yet she could not reach it.

And he, always at ease, savored the thrill of being the master of the game, using absolute control to toy with her, a desperate, scrambling mole, watching her crash into his preset traps again and again.

...

The incense smoke spiraled upward like coiling dragons and snakes, the air itself steeped in discipline. Dusk darkened, the moon dim and the lamps low, shadows flickered, and the room was filled with a biting chill, a suffocating, solemn murderous tension.

In the silence, Tian Qin was ordered to lie flat on the couch, her clothes completely removed.

Xie Tanwei unfastened his robes, precisely pierced his heart skin with a long needle, controlling the force, letting trickles of crimson blood drip down, staining the safety cord. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, he coughed lightly, his skin even paler than cold white, a smile on his lips.

After a moment, he bandaged himself up, then fished the safety cord from the blood—a thin cord about a foot and three inches long, inlaid with a small jade piece, which he had obtained from Mount Wutai, now soaked blood-red, just right for binding her.

"Give me your hand."

The cord, saturated with the smell of blood, wound around her wrists, and he deftly tied a beautiful, permanent knot. Those elegant hands that could gently peel oranges for her, that could calmly manage state affairs, that could shield her from public criticism—those hands could also skillfully bind her with a red cord.

Lately, she had been disobedient and needed punishment.

And his punishment would be carried out in this refined yet morbid manner, as he admired: "Keeps you safe, you know."

Under the candlelight, the red cord blazed fiercely, an exquisite ornament complementing her fair skin.

Tian Qin felt a damp, sticky sensation; human blood left crisscrossing marks on her wrists, itching. The vital ingredient she had been dreaming of—his heart's blood—was right before her eyes. She could smell it, see it, but could not use it to break the spell in the proper way.

The pain was more spiritual than physical, declaring she was a prisoner who needed to be bound, the "sick-in-the-head little sister."

She inhaled the rusty smell, drowned by wave after wave of despair.

"Be good from now on."

He stroked her forehead, his expression cold yet tinged with satisfaction.