A Willing Mistake, My Lady – Chapter 102
by Little PandaEscape Alive
Reunion at Last
The music and dancing drifted slowly closer, and the atmosphere in the hall gradually shifted toward conversation.
A ripple of bell-chimes carried on the air—bright and crisp as a flowing stream, rustling softly with a delicate grace that seemed to nourish the heart.
Then the instruments and drums joined in, their melody threaded with an exotic flair, lively and soaring as it pierced through the great hall.
A troupe of beautiful women drifted in like blossoming flowers, their graceful forms fluttering like butterflies in flight. The ministers perked up one by one, their eyes fixed on the girls’ pale, supple waists. The performances they typically watched certainly didn’t offer this kind of genuine bargain.
With roughly one shichen1 remaining before the execution, the First Prince turned his attention to the entertainment. An attendant behind him poured wine, and he laughed as he raised the cup and drank.
Just as he was warming to the festivities, a dancer in a rainbow of gossamer silk appeared among the cluster of pale-yellow performers, as if by magic. Her jade feet bare, she pirouetted to the music, her skirts thin as cicada wings lifting in layers to reveal legs of flawless, creamy skin.
As she moved, the layered gossamer rose and fell, and countless glints of gold shone through the fabric, dazzling as a fairy descended from heaven. The First Prince’s gaze was instantly snared by this singular dancer. He tried to make out her face, but it remained elusive.
Only that snow-white skin and a waist no wider than his palm dazzled his eyes. Had he not been in the great hall, he might have ordered her to stop dancing altogether.
As the dancer drifted closer and he caught sight of the half-veiled face beneath the sheer fabric, even the arrogant First Prince held his breath, his eyes alight with the relaxed certainty of a man who had already won.
Jiang Chenyu swayed her slender waist, slowly displaying her graceful movements, her eyes casting a seductive glance at the First Prince before darting away—yet lingering long enough for him to see her clearly.
The First Prince’s blood raced at those two glances. Her figure, far more generous than any of the other women’s, was something he had never encountered before. His greedy, possessive gaze swept from the beauty’s toes to the tips of her hair. In his mind, he had already bent that boneless waist into a dozen positions, along with that mouthwatering plump/voluptuousness.
A grin spread across his face. Today truly was a fine day—not only would he be rid of that nuisance, but he would gain a beauty without equal under heaven. It was a good thing his father the king couldn’t rise from his bed, or else this prize would have become his father’s. The First Prince congratulated himself silently on his luck.
“Is the First Prince satisfied with this gift?” Wanyan Liang stood behind him, reading his pleased expression and knowing he had played the right piece.
“Uncle truly has an eye for treasure. Come claim your reward tomorrow.” The First Prince tossed back a reply with a smirk.
At the word “Uncle,” Wanyan Liang could barely suppress his fawning demeanor.
Ever since the central dancer had appeared, every man’s gaze had been riveted to her, each wishing he were the great king so he could compete with the First Prince for her.
Shen Hetang spotted a familiar figure in the ensemble—Shen Yunshu in disguise, a false beard glued to her face, playing the huqin2.
The two exchanged a single glance, then tacitly stopped looking at each other. At first, Shen Hetang’s attention had been on Shen Yunshu, and she hadn’t noticed the graceful figure dancing with its back to her.
When she glanced forward, her straight-backed posture froze solid.
Wavy hair like seaweed cascaded to her waist and hips, swaying with the dance like liquid silk, shimmering with every movement.
Jewels glittered at her neck, her wrists, her ankles, their brilliance complementing the smooth, fair skin so perfectly that one couldn’t look away, couldn’t even breathe.
How could she not recognize Jiang Chenyu’s silhouette? The moment the suspicion struck, her fingers clamped death-tight around the iron chain on her wrist, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Then she lowered her gaze, masking the turmoil beneath, her heart pounding—not just from alarm, but from fear.
She glanced discreetly at Shen Yunshu, who returned a reassuring look. Everything inside and out had been arranged. If they couldn’t get her out, then they would all die here together.
Reassured, Shen Hetang turned her gaze back to Jiang Chenyu. Seeing that bastard’s revolting eyes roving over her, the temperature around her dropped several degrees. The soldiers guarding the iron cage shivered involuntarily, unable to tell where the chill came from.
A pair of phoenix eyes glinting with cold stars, dark and razor-sharp, narrowed slightly to conceal the dark fury surging within.
When Shen Hetang had been brought into the hall, her position was to the side, screened by the dancers, so Jiang Chenyu hadn’t seen her directly. Now, after exchanging glances with the First Prince, she turned—and saw her sitting in white inside the black iron cage, like a divine bird with broken wings. Emotion surged beyond control, those luminous eyes instantly brimming with tears.
Shen Hetang gave a gentle shake of her head, the cold in her eyes thawing like March ice, gradually warming.
But when she took in the outfit, she nearly coughed blood. It was like a modern bikini with a few scraps of cloth attached—once she started moving, it concealed nothing at all.
That exquisite figure, round and lustrous as the finest pearls—some ministers even rose from their seats, craning their necks to look. She felt ready to spit blood.
She turned to glare at Shen Yunshu, no longer caring whether anyone noticed. Shen Yunshu simply ignored her accusatory stare. That little rascal—when their lives were on the line, she was still fussing over trivialities.
Shen Hetang grew even more furious at being ignored, but she couldn’t show it. The suppressed frustration was about to make her sick, her chest aching.
“Come, come, come. Beauty, come to us.” When the performance ended, the First Prince beckoned her to his side with predatory eyes.
At those words, Shen Hetang’s heart seized as if caught in an inescapable grip. Shielding her movements with her sleeve, she unlocked her shackles and slowly felt for the soft sword3 at her waist. Her eyes held nothing but contempt for a dead man—but the time wasn’t right yet. Xiao Qiye’s people hadn’t yet lured away the two elder guardians flanking him like bodyguards. She needed to bide her time.
“This humble maiden greets Your Highness.” A slightly awkward accent, yet honey-sweet, setting hearts racing.
“What is your name? Remove your veil.” The First Prince issued the command casually.
“Your Highness, this humble maiden is called Yunjiang.” Jiang Chenyu lowered her head shyly and slowly lifted the sheer veil.
Beneath it—a face as pink as a lotus, an elegant nose, lips red and luscious. Despite the seductive, bewitching features, her bearing was innocent and artless, carrying the air of someone untouched by the world.
“We see you don’t look like a woman from the Western Regions.” The First Prince reached out and pulled her onto his lap. His iron grip tightened slightly around the smooth, tender waist, his ill-intentioned gaze falling on the tempting swell above.
If the setting weren’t so inappropriate, the exquisite creature in his arms would already have been tossed onto his bed.
Though she had prepared herself mentally, being suddenly hauled onto a strange man’s lap made her feel as though her entire body had broken out in thorns. His scent was unbearable.
Yet she kept smiling and replied, “This little woman is indeed not from the Western Regions. The troupe master found me—I am a Han woman.” The vise-like hand on her waist pinched her fair skin until it flushed pink.
Looking at the treasure in his arms, her teeth grazing her lower lip in restrained endurance, he could barely contain himself.
His other hand slid from her waist to her leg, and he marveled at what a prize he had found.
Jiang Chenyu angled her body deliberately, keeping Ah Tang from seeing how she was being taken advantage of. Her mission was to make the First Prince kiss her neck or the hollow beneath her collarbone. She had applied poison there and taken the antidote beforehand—she was determined to poison this ambitious enemy, then trade the antidote for Ah Tang’s release.
She straightened her back and deliberately pressed closer to the First Prince, commanding his attention.
“Don’t rush, beauty. Once we’ve dealt with that Han down there, we’ll come deal with you.” He gave her a pat for emphasis.
Her objective still unmet, Jiang Chenyu couldn’t possibly let him leave. She clung to the First Prince deliberately, leading the burly man astray until he could barely think straight, sorely tempted to forget about the Han prisoner below altogether. He raised his broad palm to cup her face…!
In a flash, the iron cage holding the prisoner shattered with a deafening crash, exploding into fragments. To hell with waiting for the right moment—now was the time for this shameless old bastard to die.
Her eyes reddened as she launched herself into the air, the soft sword in her hand thrusting straight for the First Prince’s neck. The blade, supple as a silver snake, curved past Jiang Chenyu and wrapped directly around Xiao Qilu’s throat.
He tried to call for help, only to find both guardians gone and the guards useless. He could only claw at the soft sword at his throat, eyes bulging, unable to utter a sound.
Shen Yunshu saw the situation change and, without hesitation, ordered everyone to charge forward. In an instant, the great hall erupted into chaos—people fleeing, guards rushing to protect, killers striking, voices screaming—impossible to tell who was who.
Shen Hetang had no intention of lingering. One arm swept Jiang Chenyu against her chest, shielding her eyes, while the other wrenched the soft sword free. Xiao Qilu’s head parted from his shoulders in an instant, his ox-like eyes still glaring in death, unblinking.
Then, like the wind, she vanished from the hall with Jiang Chenyu in her arms. Shen Yunshu, seeing she had escaped, slipped nimbly out of the Imperial Palace. The hired martial experts still fought fiercely against the palace guards, while the death warriors waiting outside surged in to lend their strength.
Once she had Jiang Chenyu, Shen Hetang fled the Imperial Palace at full speed. Under normal circumstances, the escape would never have been so smooth—there would have been a bloody battle. But with Xiao Qiye’s men serving as inside agents, their breakout was extraordinarily smooth.
The martial artists covering their retreat employed every unorthodox trick in the book. Once the group regrouped, they didn’t dare linger—they mounted horses and rode hard into the distance.
Jiang Chenyu, dazed from being carried, only recalled a warm spray across her arm—hot and viscous.
Now, riding on horseback with Shen Hetang, she finally came back to herself. Watching the road fly past, she felt, at last, that she could breathe.
The arm around her waist held her firmly, and she felt safer. She rested her hand over Ah Tang’s fingers.
“Were you frightened? Why did you come too?” Once no pursuers were in sight, she leaned her head gently against Jiang Chenyu’s neck and asked.
“I couldn’t stop worrying about you. Coming along put my mind at ease, even if I couldn’t do anything.” She leaned back against her, tilting her head to look at her. She had grown thinner—her jaw was sharp enough to be uncomfortable. Who knew how long it would take to nurse her back.
“We’re done being this lousy general. Whoever wants it can have it. Sound good?” Jiang Chenyu said with a hint of stubbornness.
“Agreed. Once a few things are settled, whoever wants to be this lousy general can have it. I’ll take my wife traveling the world. How about that?” Looking at her childlike expression, she lifted the corner of her eye with a smile.
“Good. No lying.” Jiang Chenyu said sweetly, as if she had eaten candy.
Shen Hetang’s smiling eyes drifted, her thoughts carried away by the sway and rise of Jiang Chenyu’s figure.
She shrugged off her outer robe and draped it over Jiang Chenyu. Jiang Chenyu was used to it by now—she had been wearing such garments for days, gradually growing numb to the sensation. But now, noticing Ah Tang’s concern about this, she felt a bit at a loss, her clear, liquid eyes watching her carefully.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Hmm?” She lowered her head and pressed a firm kiss to those crimson lips.
Jiang Chenyu’s restless heart lurched, seared by the contact.
Her eyes bright, she reached up and hooked her arms around her neck, leaning in closer…!
Footnotes
- A shichen is a traditional Chinese time unit equal to approximately two hours.
- A huqin is a traditional Chinese bowed string instrument played with a bow, commonly used in regional opera and folk ensembles.
- A ruanjian, or 'soft sword,' is a flexible steel blade designed to be coiled and worn around the waist as a concealed weapon. It can be unfurled mid-combat and strikes like a lashing serpent.
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