No Heart for the Beautiful Night

In the dimly lit room, the flickering candlelight cast a faint glow upon the woman’s bare, alabaster skin, creating a dance of shadows and light. Her delicate features, as pure and tender as a lotus flower, were flushed with an unusual rosy hue. Her arms, bound tightly with thick ropes, hung suspended from the ceiling beam, allowing only the tips of her toes to barely touch the ground. Her damp, cherry-red lips continuously emitted soft, enticing moans of discomfort. “No—please stop—” A gust of wind seemed to pass by, and the door creaked open. A man, with a pale and elegant face, exuding a sinister charm, entered the room. Clad in a dark green brocade robe, his raven-black hair cascaded loosely over his shoulders. He walked in slowly, a smile playing on his lips—a smile that sent chills down one’s spine. His deep, dark almond-shaped eyes held a haughty arrogance, a reckless pride, and a faint, wolf-like, cold mockery. He approached the bed in the room and stopped, gazing quietly at the woman tied to its side. She was beautiful, her snow-white skin as smooth as jade under the dim candlelight, with traces of the previous night’s intimacy still lingering on her chest. She watched him with growing dread, unable to retreat even an inch. “Are you thirsty? Have a drink,” he said, picking up a wine glass from the table, pouring some wine, and bringing it to her lips. She shook her head fearfully, her clear, watery eyes filled with terror. “Why, not obedient again?” He pinched her chin, a strange smile slowly curving his lips. “I’ve been too gentle with you, haven’t I?” With a light chuckle, he extended two slender fingers, tracing down her flat abdomen, gently parting the tender petals, and lightly teasing the delicate nub. Watching the girl pant and writhe with each of his caresses, his smile deepened. “Does it feel good, Honey?” “Ah—no—please—stop—stop it—please—” Honey, biting her lip and shaking her head, her lotus-like eyes brimming with tears as desire surged within her. The man’s smile grew wider. He slowly withdrew his hand, pulling out from behind her a jade object as thick as a baby’s fist. The tender opening quivered slightly. “Don’t want me to stop? I was about to take this out for you, but since you don’t want me to stop, let’s continue,” he said with a smile, his eyes gleaming as he pushed the jade object back into the narrow, delicate passage, pressing it deeply inside. “Ah—no…” Honey’s body jolted, her beautiful eyes trembling with pain as she squirmed in discomfort. “…Please, no…” “Honey, I have some business to attend to. Let this keep you company tonight,” the man said with a faint smile, brushing a few strands of hair from his pale face, and then turned to leave gracefully. The room fell silent once more. The woman, suspended from the beam, watched the mottled wooden door, her thoughts and desires churning in her mind. Three months—just three months had turned her world upside down. If she hadn’t entered the Ministry of Justice’s mansion three months ago, would all of this have happened? She remembered their first meeting vividly. It was early March, and she had accompanied her uncle, her only relative, to visit his close friend, Jing Wuyuan, the current Minister of Justice. That day, when they arrived at the mansion, the sun was shining brightly, and the sky was clear. She followed her uncle through the winding corridors and gardens, guided by the old butler, until they reached a small copper door. Beyond the door lay a colonnade, and facing it was a pond with clear blue water where a few colorful goldfish played, catching the eye. They crossed a white jade arch bridge and entered the courtyard inscribed with “Apricot Flower Garden.” As soon as she stepped into the courtyard, the fragrance of apricot blossoms filled the air. Honey looked up and saw a grove of apricot trees not far away, their branches covered in clusters of pink and white flowers, blooming exuberantly and capturing the essence of spring. The pale pink petals trembled gently in the breeze, as if holding freshly fallen, fragrant snow. She was captivated by the sight. However, the beauty of the scene was jarringly disrupted by the sound of harsh whip cracks. Peering through the dense flowers, she saw a man in his fifties, dressed in a gold-threaded robe, his temples slightly graying, furiously lashing a thick whip at the ground. The fierce whipwind caused the pale pink petals to fall like rain, but the man’s gaze remained unmoved, cold and merciless. Faint moans of pain reached their ears from the ground. Her eyes were drawn to the man lying on the ground, as if glued in place. He was about twenty years old, his light blue robe soaked in blood. His back was a gruesome mess of wounds. His raven-black hair, though disheveled and covering his face, could not hide the fact that he had an exceptionally handsome face, albeit pale from pain. Despite the blood streaming down his body, his deep, dark almond-shaped eyes showed no fear. Instead, they held a haughty arrogance, a reckless pride, and a faint, wolf-like, cold mockery. Noticing someone watching him, he strained to lift his eyes, shimmering with a dark light. Upon seeing the clear, jade-like gaze, he raised an eyebrow and slowly curved his blood-stained lips into an extremely charming smile, akin to the smiles of the dandies commonly seen in the marketplace. Yet, unlike them, his smile was even more piercing in the sunlight, as if it could steal one’s very soul. She quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing with an intoxicating blush.