Transmigrating into the world of Jade Dynasty, I was targeted by the female lead in a reverse romanc

Night had fallen, and Xiaozhu Peak was quiet; even the wind had ceased its rustling. Only the distant mountain shadows sank beneath the dark blue sky, like a gentle barrier.

Yunzhou and Yueyao were naturally in the next room, looked after by Xiaobai. In the main room of the bamboo house, only a small lamp was lit, the light dim and yellow, gathered in the thin lampshade, pushing the darkness of the room back to the corner, leaving only a warm and ambiguous boundary.

Jiang Xiaochuan sat on the edge of the bed, his clothes slightly open, revealing a section of his collarbone. He watched as Lu Xueqi stood with her back to him in front of the dressing table, gently pulling out the last hairpin.

Her long, ink-black hair cascaded down like a silent waterfall, reaching her waist, making her profile appear even whiter and more exquisite under the dim light, like the finest mutton-fat jade, radiating a lustrous glow.

She raised her hand to smooth her hair, the movement very light and slow. Then she turned around, walked to the table, and with her back to him, began to untie the ties of her outer garment.

The ribbon was dark green, a thin strand tied into an exquisite knot. Her long, slender, and fair fingers held the ribbon and slowly pulled it open.

"Xueqi..."

"Hmm?" Lu Xueqi didn't turn around and continued to undress. The collar of her outer garment loosened, revealing a section of her fair nape, with beautiful lines hidden in the deeper fabric.

"Um... tonight..."

Jiang Xiaochuan's fingers unconsciously picked at the quilt beneath him. It was the brocade quilt used during their wedding, bright red, embroidered with mandarin ducks playing in the water. When he rubbed it with his fingers, he could feel the fine raised threads.

"Could I... stay for the night?"

Lu Xueqi stopped untying her belt.

It stopped abruptly, as if frozen in place by something. The room was quiet, with the occasional soft crackling of the lamp wick and the faint chirping of insects outside the window, one after another, tirelessly.

She turned around.

The lights were behind her, and her face was hidden in the shadows, so her expression was not visible.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm... a little tired." Jiang Xiaochuan looked away, glancing at the celadon vase in the corner, at the crooked shape of his own shadow on the ground, at everything else, but not at her.

Lu Xueqi didn't say anything.

She simply stood there, watching him, her gaze like an invisible net, slowly closing in and trapping him within.

After a few breaths, she spoke, her voice still calm, yet carrying an undeniable air, like an undercurrent surging beneath the ice:

"We are husband and wife."

Jiang Xiaochuan's fingers curled up.

"It is only natural for husband and wife to have sexual relations."

Lu Xueqi walked towards him, her bare feet making no sound as she stepped onto the ground. She stopped by the bed and looked down at him.

"Or perhaps..." She leaned forward slightly, her long hair slipping down her shoulder, brushing against his cheek, carrying a cool fragrance. Her breath, warm against his forehead, sent a chill down his spine. "You don't love me anymore?"

"No!" Jiang Xiaochuan immediately looked up and retorted.

He met her eyes, which were so close to his.

In the shadows, his eyes appeared exceptionally deep, like bottomless, icy pools, yet deep within his pupils reflected a flickering light, burning and scorching, as if an inextinguishable fire lay hidden beneath the ice. That flame, reflected in his eyes, and in hers, ignited both of them simultaneously.

"That's not what I meant..." His voice lowered, as if he were talking to himself.

"What does that mean?" Lu Xueqi pressed.

She braced herself on the edge of the bed beside him with one hand, leaning slightly forward, trapping him in a small space. Her cool aura mingled with a familiar, unsettling scent that enveloped him—the lingering fragrance of soap after a bath, her unique, icy aura like a snow-capped mountain, and… a scent that sent chills down his spine, the scent of an aggressor.

"I want you," she said bluntly.

The voice was low and husky, like velvet brushing against a blade—soft, yet sharp.

Jiang Xiaochuan's face flushed instantly, and his heart skipped a beat, as if someone was pounding a drum in his chest, making his eardrums buzz.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything at all—saying he was really tired today, saying he had to get up early tomorrow, saying what if Yunzhou and Yueyao woke up—but Lu Xueqi no longer gave him a chance.

She lowered her head and kissed him.

She pried open his teeth, plunged in, and swept away all his breath and thoughts. Her tongue was warm and domineering, licking every inch of his teeth and sweeping away all his resistance and excuses.

She braced herself against his side with one hand, and slipped the other hand under the hem of his clothes, her palm warm, and stroked his waist with her fingertips.

Jiang Xiaochuan groaned, his body going limp involuntarily, as if all his bones had been removed. His hand pressed against her chest, wanting to push her away, but he had no strength. His hand was so weak that it seemed as if he was trying to refuse her while welcoming her.

The candlelight crackled softly, bursting into a tiny flame that sparked and vanished in an instant.

Clothes slipped off one by one, piling up on the floor beside the bed, blue and white intertwined, indistinguishable from one another. The dim light cast swaying, intertwined shadows on the wall, sometimes separating, sometimes overlapping, like a silent shadow play.

Suppressed breathing, intermittent sobs, and the faint, rhythmic creaking of the wooden bed, like an ancient ballad, echoed repeatedly in the silent night.

There were also the woman's low, hoarse whispers, repeating in my ears, carrying commands and coaxing, like a spell, like a poison, etching themselves into my bones again and again.

"Call me by my name."

"Ogawa...look at me."

The sound seemed to come from a very far place, or perhaps it grew from within his body, dense and overwhelming, enveloping and drowning him.

In the end, everything calmed down.

All that remained was heavy breathing and the sticky feeling of sweat soaking through my skin.

The air was filled with an ambiguous scent, unique to the two of them, mixed with the smoke from the candlelight, the fragrance of bamboo leaves drifting in from outside the window, and a kind of indescribable, drowsy warmth.

Lu Xueqi hugged him from behind.

Her arm wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly in her embrace, as if protecting something precious that could be lost at any moment.

Her chin rested on his shoulder, the bone digging into his skin, a little painful, yet strangely reassuring. Her breath sprayed onto his neck, hot and persistent, like a feather, or a branding iron.

Jiang Xiaochuan was so tired that he didn't even want to move his fingers. He closed his eyes and let her hold him. His body felt like it had been taken apart and put back together. Every muscle in his body was screaming that he was exhausted, but in a corner of his heart, something quietly collapsed, soft and warm.

A long time passed.

So long that Jiang Xiaochuan thought she had fallen asleep, so long that the chirping of insects outside the window had changed, so long that the flame of the small lamp had grown weaker and weaker, almost burning out, that he finally heard her extremely low, extremely clear voice, with a post-coital hoarseness and an almost obsessive satisfaction, ringing in his ears:

"You are mine."

Jiang Xiaochuan didn't open his eyes.

He simply nuzzled against her very lightly, finding a more comfortable position, and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

His hand groped unconsciously, grasping a strand of her long hair and entwining it around his fingertips. Then, his breathing gradually evened out, and he sank completely into darkness.

But Lu Xueqi didn't sleep.

She opened her eyes and looked at the sleeping profile of the person in her arms in the darkness.

The moonlight filtered through the window paper, hazy and indistinct, like a thin veil, illuminating the soft lines of his face.

The eyelashes cast a faint shadow under the eyes, slightly upturned, occasionally trembling like a butterfly flapping its wings.

He was fast asleep, breathing evenly, his nostrils flaring slightly. His body was curled up relaxed in her arms, one hand unconsciously clutching her clothes tightly, as if afraid she would run away.

Just like Yunzhou and Yueyao.

The way he held her fingers while she was asleep, the exact same posture, the exact same trust.

Lu Xueqi looked at it.

Looked for a long time.

Her gaze slid from his brow to the bridge of his nose, to the peak of his lips, to his chin, to his Adam's apple, and then slowly drifted back, like a gentle river washing over its bed again and again.

There was something gentle and tender in her eyes, like a spring breeze rippling across a lake, but deeper still, in the deepest part of her pupils, something was churning—an undercurrent, a whirlpool, something thick, almost insane, that couldn't be seen in the light.

Then, she very lightly touched his forehead with her lips.

It was as if she was afraid of waking him, or as if she was afraid that if she didn't do it, she would break.

Her voice was so low it was almost inaudible, as if she were speaking to her own heart:

I know you're tired.

Lu Xueqi tightened her arms around him, almost embedding him into her body, ribs against ribs, heartbeats against heartbeats, unable to tell who was whose.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her nose touching his pulse, inhaling his familiar scent, a mixture of the refreshing scent of soapberry, a faint milky fragrance, and the damp, pleasurable scent she left behind after their lovemaking.

"I know you still have other people in your heart: Biyao, Xiaobai, and Linglong."

Each name was pronounced slowly, as if chewing on something bitter, or as if confirming something.

"I know you feel sorry for them, feel indebted, feel... like you're an idiot."

She paused, then looked up.

The moonlight shone through the crack in the window, a thin line falling on her face. Her eyes shone brightly in the darkness, like two cold, sparkling stars. There was possessiveness, obsession, fear, and a deep, almost insane, desperate affection within them.

"Then be a jerk," she said.

"Be good to me, be bad to them, love me, let them down. Give me your heart, your person, your guilt, your reluctance, all your good and bad."

Her voice began to tremble, like a string stretched too tight.

"I'll be the villain for you, I'll shield you from all the hatred, all the resentment, all the...unwillingness."

Her fingers touched his cheek, very lightly, like touching fragile porcelain, or like holding a handful of water about to slip through her fingers.

"If Biyao comes, I will kill her; if Xiaobai complains, I will bear it; if Linglong fights, I will take her; if the world curses you for being heartless and fickle, I will tell them that I forced you, that I held a sword to your neck, forcing you to love only me."

She spoke these words with an astonishing calmness, but if he were awake, he would have heard that beneath that calm lay an abyss.

Her voice finally trembled slightly.

"Xiao Chuan, you only need to do one thing."

She paused.

Her breathing became rapid, her chest heaving violently. She bit her lip until it turned white, as if trying to force back something that was about to spill out.

Don't leave me.

The four words, choked with sobs and pleading, conveyed the humility of a woman who was once an invincible swordsman but was now as fragile as an autumn leaf.

"Don't leave me like Zhang Xiaofan left Lu Xueqi."

Her eyes reddened.

No tears fell, but the light in those eyes shattered, like ice on a lake in winter being struck by a stone, cracks spreading silently from the center outwards, yet shockingly so.

"I can be Lu Xueqi, or I can not; you can be Jiang Xiaochuan, or you can not."

Her voice was as light as a wisp of smoke, which would dissipate with a gust of wind.

"But you can't leave me."

silence.

A long silence.

Only the even breathing of the person in her arms, steady and reassuring, like the only unchanging thing in the world, and her own thunderous heartbeat, thump-thump-thump, as if it were about to burst her chest.

A long time passed, long enough that the moonlight shifted its position, moving from her eyes to his eyelashes, before she let out a very low, self-deprecating laugh.

The laughter was soft and brief, like the sound of something breaking.

"You see, I'm the crazy one."

Then she closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck again, like a drowning person clinging to a piece of driftwood, like a lost child grasping at the last lamp.

Outside the window, the moonlight, like water, flowed quietly through the silent bamboo forest.

The rustling of bamboo leaves is like a sigh, a whisper, like all the unspeakable secrets of this world, all transformed into the night wind, passing through the forest, never to return.

The little lamp finally burned out its last bit of oil, the flame flickered twice, and then went out unwillingly.

In the darkness, only the breaths of two people mingled together, indistinguishable from one another.

One is uniform, the other is disordered.

One slumbers into a deep, dreamless sleep, while the other remains awake, waiting until dawn.