9. A Single Slap to the Palm

Chapter 9: A Slap on the Palm

All around, utter silence.

Xu Hanyun slowly turned his head, his fingertips lightly grazing the swollen skin, the five vivid red finger marks on his cheek slowly bruising into a thin layer of purple.

The guards kept their heads bowed, stealing sidelong glances at Xu Hanyun and Gu Yuanzhi. Never had they seen such a high-ranking official humiliated by a woman's slap in public. Tonight's shift wasn't wasted—they'd witnessed something extraordinary, a story destined to become the talk of Yangzhou Prefecture.

"Sir!" Centurion Chen reacted first, stepping forward with a swift stride, drawing his saber with a sharp ring, and barking, "You insolent woman, how dare you show disrespect to the Lord!"

"Stand down," Xu Hanyun said in a low voice.

Gu Yuanzhi had always been gentle by nature—she'd never slapped anyone before, but the first time she did, it was him. Her lowered hand still trembled, palm numb.

A belated wave of fear surged through her, but she felt no regret. She'd struck him, and so be it—let this petty scribe flay her alive if he wanted.

He did not look at her, only calmly instructed Centurion Chen beside him, "Spread the order: put out the fire. Once this is settled, no need to make a fuss."

His tone was as calm as ever, betraying nothing, yet Centurion Chen shuddered for no reason and hurriedly acknowledged, leading the men to clean up.

Only the two of them remained before the firelight.

Gu Yuanzhi silently backed away until a charred tree root blocked her path.

Meeting his deep, unfathomable gaze, the courage born of hot blood within her slowly eroded into a creeping chill.

She turned her head away from his suffocating stare. As the saying goes, a barking dog doesn't bite—but he showed nothing, and the silent ones were always the most dangerous.

Before she could retreat further, her wrist was seized and she was yanked forward. Gu Yuanzhi stumbled and crashed straight into his cold, hard chest.

"Come with me." He didn't spare her another glance, dragging her toward the sedan chair parked nearby.

His strides were long, half-dragging, half-carrying Gu Yuanzhi. Her embroidered shoes were in tatters, and she nearly tripped over stones several times, scrambling to keep up while searing pain shot from her wrist.

"Let me go... Xu Hanyun, let me go..." She struggled in vain, her voice hoarse from shouting.

He turned a deaf ear, hauling her to the sedan with a blank expression.

The guards beside the sedan stood with heads bowed, not daring to look up. Xu Hanyun dismissed them with a glance, yanked open the curtain, and roughly shoved Gu Yuanzhi inside.

Caught off guard, Gu Yuanzhi tumbled into the cabin, her forehead hitting a low table beside her. The pain made her see stars. Before she could even steady herself, Xu Hanyun bent down and followed her in.

The curtain fell, sealing out the outside world.

She scrambled backward on all fours, curling into a corner of the carriage, wishing she could become invisible.

Xu Hanyun leaned back against the silk cushions, poured tea to wet a handkerchief, and pressed it to his face, which still stung fiercely.

She held her breath. Outside, he'd likely held back for the sake of his official reputation. But now, in this confined space with just the two of them, all his fury might pour down on her.

"Slapping this official—feel good?" He pressed the handkerchief to half his face, the handprint upon it looking almost eerily beautiful. "Or do you think provoking me to kill you would be a release?"

Gu Yuanzhi suddenly lifted her eyes to steal a glance at him, feigning fearlessness: "You forced me, Sir. I didn't want to."

He said coldly, "I set the mountain on fire but left you a way out. You chose death yourself. I erased your name from the registry to spare you exile. How exactly did I force you?"

"You..." Gu Yuanzhi was left speechless, his twisted reasoning leaving her at a loss for words. In her eyes, everything he did was cornering her toward a dead end.

But the next moment, an ice-cold hand seized her wrist bone.

"Lord Xu, let go!" She struggled, prying at his fingers with her other hand, but they wouldn't budge.

He ignored her. "This hand—was it the one that slapped me?" He raised her hand to his eyes, studying it closely.

This hand—five slender fingers, pale as snow, palm still faintly red from the blow.

A chill shot through Gu Yuanzhi's heart; she was uncertain of his intent.

"What a fine pair of beautiful hands." He murmured, his tone devoid of joy or anger, yet it sent a chill creeping up her spine. "These hands can write such elegant verses, and they can also slap a man across the face."

He was a second-rank scholar-official, slapped in public by her. It wasn't just a disgrace to scholarly decorum—it was utterly laughable.

Xu Hanyun suddenly tightened his grip. "Ah..." Gu Yuanzhi winced in pain, her brows knitting in misery.

"Tell me," he said, "if this official chopped it off and displayed it as a curiosity for guests to admire, what would you think?"

"You... how dare you..." Gu Yuanzhi's almond eyes flew wide, her earlier bravado gone. She had no doubt this madman was capable of such a thing.

"Why wouldn't this official dare?" He chuckled softly, brushing his fingers over her trembling brow. "Is Qing Yun afraid? Where's the spirit from that slap gone?"

"You... madman..." Her lips quivered, terrified he might actually do it.

"If not chopping off the hand, then what punishment does Qing Yun want?" He said. "The tortures in the imperial prison—you haven't tried those yet."

Xu Hanyun's casual tone made her shudder. "Kill me or flay me, do as you please. Since I've fallen into your hands, I never expected to come out well."

He leaned in, the rustle of his robes brushing over the back of her hand, his large palm bracing against the carriage wall by her ear. "Death? Not so easy. I want you to live, so you'll live. I want you to live a certain way, and that's how you'll live."

"Humiliating me day after day—what do you get out of it? Why not marry a proper lady and live a good life, instead of tangling with me?" Gu Yuanzhi turned her head away, avoiding his dark eyes.

His expression darkened, a sinister look creeping over his face as he leaned in. "If you behave yourself, this official can guarantee your parents' comfort in exile. But if you dare stir up any more trouble..."

His hot breath enveloped Gu Yuanzhi, making her deeply uncomfortable, yet she forced herself to stay calm. "The Sir is magnanimous. Don't drag others into this. I'll behave myself."

Xu Hanyun knew she was still defiant. He took her hand and guided it to his face. "Look at the mark you left."

Beneath her palm was his burning skin. She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it firm.

"Since you enjoy leaving marks on this official's body," his eyes gleamed with an unreadable light, "then this official ought to return the favor."

"Lord Xu, if you're going to strike, then strike. No need for words." Gu Yuanzhi bit her lower lip, knowing this ordeal was unavoidable. She let him flatten her palm against his knee.

He picked up the jade-bamboo folding fan from the low table, closed the ribs, and brought it down on her palm. With a sharp crack, a red welt quickly appeared.

"This one's for your insolent words to this official."

The fan ribs striking her flesh didn't truly hurt, but it was utterly humiliating. She turned her head away, unwilling to look at his cold expression.

"This one's for your ingratitude." He raised the fan again.

This time he used more force, the red marks overlapping and deepening into darker shades.

Gu Yuanzhi let out a muffled groan of pain, her other hand clutching the cushion beneath her.

"This one's for striking this official—a subordinate offending a superior." Seeing her stubbornness, he added more force.

Her eyes grew moist, her palm burning with pain. Instinctively, she curled her fingers, but he held them firmly, leaving her no room to escape.

"Do you know what you did wrong?"

Gu Yuanzhi's lips paled from the pain, her expression pitiful and delicate, as she answered in a low voice: "I shouldn't have raised my hand against you, my lord."

"Is that all?" he pressed.

She was momentarily at a loss for words, gazing at him with tearful eyes, unsure what more he wished to hear.

Seeing her silent, Xu Hanyun raised the fan, making a motion to strike again.

"I shouldn't have rushed into the flames..." She closed her eyes, bracing for the fan's blow, yet felt no pain.

But he cast the fan aside, his earlier brooding expression fading as he fixed his gaze on her. "Does it hurt?"

Gu Yuanzhi did not answer, pulling her hand free from his grasp and hiding it in her sleeve. More than the pain, it was the humiliation. She was twenty-four years old, still being punished like a schoolchild by a master's rod? Even her former female tutor had never struck her.

"I asked you a question." His tone carried a hint of impatience.

Only then did she slowly lift her head, those beautiful almond-shaped eyes rimmed with red. She tugged at the corners of her lips, forcing a strained smile. "It doesn't hurt. Thank you for your instruction, my lord. I... have learned my lesson."

He knew she remained unyielding and disinclined to speak further. From a hidden compartment, he produced a porcelain vial, pouring out ointment and applying it to her palm. The medicine stung as it touched the wound, and Gu Yuanzhi flinched.

"Your life was saved by me. From this day forth, without my permission, you are not allowed to die." He softened his touch, spreading the ointment evenly. "And certainly not die for him."

He despised her fierce stubbornness, despised the way she would sacrifice everything for Mei Hezhi.

"I... Qing Yun understands." She realized this man responded to softness, not force, and could only relent, adopting a placating demeanor.

He leaned close to her ear, his words slithering in like a serpent coiled around bone: "Good that you understand. If there's a next time, I'll lock these hands of yours away so you can't do a thing with them. And if it happens again, I'll cut your tendons, so you'll have to rely on me for everything—food, clothes, a roof over your head. How's that?"

Her heart trembled violently, struck dumb by his words.

"Weren't you quite vocal just now? Calling me a madman, a cruel official. Now you've gone mute?" he taunted. "Since Qing Yun doesn't want to talk, let's do something... that doesn't need words."

His warm hand clamped onto her slender waist, yanking her into him.

The faint, exquisite fragrance from his robes made her catch her breath. In a moment of distraction, his arm tightened around her waist inch by inch, and she found herself pressed against his chest.

"What is it?" He pinched her chin, forcing her head up.

Gu Yuanzhi pressed her lips tightly together, saying nothing, afraid that if she spoke, she'd betray the tears threatening to spill.

The dim lamplight played over her voluminous hair, jade pins loosely holding it up, tassels dangling and catching the pale light. His breath ghosted over her nape, a prickling sensation like insects crawling.

On her graceful neck, fine veins stood out, fragile as glass. His gaze darkened—one squeeze of his hand and it would snap.

"Lord Xu, is my Gu family safe on their journey into exile? And what of my husband—how has the Mei family been sentenced?" She finally voiced the concerns that had weighed on her mind for so long.

"Maybe you should worry about your own situation instead of other people." He shrugged off his outer robe, leaving just a pale inner garment, and pulled her against the carriage wall, lounging with an air of arrogance.

Her composure was already in tatters, her teeth sinking into her lip. She couldn't believe that after all that life-and-death terror moments ago, he was still in the mood!

"Do I have to ask you?"

He actually wanted her to... make the first move.

Not wanting him to see her so disheveled and vulnerable, she bent forward, burying her face in his chest, her tears soaking the front of his robe.

The rage and frustration from being slapped earlier unexpectedly softened at her silent tears. He hesitated, then awkwardly patted her back.

"Stop crying." His voice was stiff, with a rare trace of awkwardness. "Lift your head."

Gu Yuanzhi stayed buried in his chest, sobbing quietly, not wanting to move, trying to block out everything in the dark.

His brow furrowed slightly. He hated losing control, hated that she was using tears as a weapon, stirring feelings he'd never had before. He pressed a little harder on her back, easing her away slightly: "Qing Yun, if not for yourself, think about your family."

"Lord Xu... I will..." Eyes shut, her pale hand trembling as it searched for his sash.

At least she was alive. At least her family was safe—for now.

She was too slow, and a flash of dark fury flickered in his eyes. He grabbed her chin, lunging in, forcing her lips apart, tangling, chasing, teasing her tongue.

She gasped, too weak to push him away, a whimper escaping her throat as tears welled up in pain.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, as if trying to quench his savage restlessness with her saliva. His breathing grew faster, hotter, and frantic kisses rained down, leaving red marks on her neck.

"It hurts, stop..." she gasped, her wrists pushing weakly against his chest.

"Who's stronger—him or me?"

Roughly, he pinned her flailing wrists with one hand while the other slipped under her robes, grabbing softness.

The dim lamplight shattered in his eyes, glinting cold and fierce. He yanked the sash at her waist away, her sob catching in her throat, her body going limp.

All she saw was his dark, surging gaze, his hand gripping her waist harder, sending sharp, stinging pain through her.

The sheer curtains swayed, revealing a pitiful beauty—damp, flushed, her brows radiant, her dark hair cascading in mournful waves.

Her hands gripped the carriage window frame, hair damp, lips bitten raw. Only pain could bring back a shred of clarity. Bright blood traced a line down her chin, yet she never begged for mercy—not that it would have done any good. She got none.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why me?" she whispered.

Could it only be Gu Yuanzhi? An obsession that would accept no other.

Was she a thorn buried deep in his heart, swollen and aching, or a fresh, burning red mole?

He couldn't tell, so he just pressed her beneath him, taking and thrusting savagely.

The flickering lamp went out, and two tangled shadows merged into one.