The Concubine of the Main Wife - Chapter 18

“Madam—”

 

A’Lian’s face instantly paled, her body trembling as she attempted to lie, but every word died on her lips the moment she met those icy eyes.

 

“Hmph, how could I possibly deserve to be called your madam?”

 

Zhen Yao stood there, clad in black with her dark hair flowing. An attire starkly different from her usual style, yet it exuded a breathtaking beauty that was utterly captivating.

 

A’Lian’s eyes burned with unshed tears, her heart in turmoil. The words she had just spoken left her with no room for defense, and now she could only bite her sleeve, choking back sobs of grievance.

 

This had been a perfect plan to kill two birds with one stone. After all, the madam had always been soft-hearted, especially tender toward her. Who could have guessed that the madam would seem like a completely different person now. Not only cold and ruthless but also aloof and unapproachable.

 

A’Lian’s feigned tears turned into genuine wails, but no matter how red and swollen her eyes became from crying, Zhen Yao remained unmoved!

 

“Madam, your heart is truly cruel! To be so distant and indifferent. How can a lowly concubine like me bear to live on in shame?”

 

Perhaps a tactical retreat would work? But before A’Lian could finish her words, Zhen Yao, without even turning her head, drew her sword with a swift motion, its gleaming blade suddenly pressing against the peach blossom eyes before her.

 

“If you cannot remain loyal to one, then death at least would show some backbone!” Zhen Yao was clearly furious.

 

Those unforgettable moments of intimacy, those vows whispered under the moonlight. All of it had turned into a joke in the end.

 

The ancients said, “A scholar would rather die than be humiliated.” How could Zhen Yao tolerate someone so fickle and deceitful?

 

“What? You’re telling me to die?”

 

A’Lian’s eyes widened in disbelief.

 

“You’re the one who wants to die. What does it have to do with me?”

 

“I… I refuse to die now!” With that, A’Lian stood on her tiptoes, trying to salvage some dignity in the confrontation.

 

“How can someone like you exist in this world?”

 

To brazenly play both sides, and then face questioning without even a hint of shame!

 

Zhen Yao shook her head, speechless. But to A’Lian, this was nothing more than a little white lie.

 

“Oh dear, my dear madam, everything can be explained,” A’Lian said, stepping closer in an attempt to placate her.

 

But in Zhen Yao’s eyes, this was nothing more than a desperate attempt to salvage the situation—a stalling tactic to rescue her old flame.

 

“Is she really so important that you’d stoop so low for her?”

 

A’Lian was at a loss for words, but just as she was about to retort, a sudden realization struck her. “And what about you? This is the stronghold of the Western Mountain bandits. I came here to meet their leader. So why is a wealthy madam from a secluded mansion like you here?”

 

The answer was obvious, and Zhen Yao made no effort to hide it. “So you feel humiliated for having once submitted to a mere wandering bandit.”

 

“Zhen Yao!”

 

Their eyes locked, and A’Lian gritted her teeth in fury.

 

Zhen Yao, too, was seething with anger. Her brows furrowed sharply as she stepped back. “I admit my faults, but you still haven’t explained what exactly is your relationship with Chen Rong? Did you infiltrate the Su family just for gold and treasures?”

 

“What else? Did you think I came for you?” A’Lian’s grip on her own hand turned white with force.

 

“How generous of you!”

 

Zhen Yao’s expression darkened instantly, her heart aching as if pierced by a knife.

 

“Either way, I lose nothing!”

 

Knowing full well that both of them had lost their reason, A’Lian couldn’t help but let her sharp tongue run wild.

 

“What a way to ‘lose nothing.’ Then today, you shall pay a heavier price.”

 

Zhen Yao lowered her gaze and stepped forward, her long arm reaching out to firmly trap A’Lian.

 

A’Lian’s face instantly drained of color, her back pressed tightly against Zhen Yao’s chest as an inexplicable shiver ran through her. “How dare you!”

 

The next moment, Zhen Yao, taking advantage of her height, untied the silk sash at A’Lian’s waist with a swift tug. Then, her slender fingers deftly explored, her arm encircling the soft curves of A’Lian’s chest, capturing the springtime beauty within her grasp.

 

The mountain winds were biting, the cold air causing delicate, snow-like skin to tremble.

 

“A’Lian, it was you who forced me.”

 

Warm breath by her ear turned abruptly sharp and prickling. Before A’Lian could react, her mind went blank.

 

In her memory, the mistress’s hands had always been delicate and refined, yet now they were icy and piercing.

 

Each knuckle stood out distinctly, like a master asserting dominance.

 

The extremes of fire and ice intertwined. Gentle sips suddenly deepening, shattering all coherent thought.

 

A low sob rose, only to be smothered against crimson lips.

 

No begging, no weeping only endurance.

 

It should have been humiliating, this unrestrained abandon behind the screen, yet A’Lian found herself unable to suppress the rising tide of pleasure, along with an almost greedy craving.

 

“Mm—ah—”

 

Tears like pear blossoms streaked her fragrant cheeks, her body limp, supported only by the faint strength of her slender arms.

 

“Why cry? It won’t kill you. A’Lian, you damned enchantress!”

 

Zhen Yao’s voice was hoarse, her expression complex and unreadable.

 

Every ounce of strength and every trick she wished to unleash them all, torn between ruthless dominance and cowardly fear.

 

How could she keep this fickle woman? Could it be, as A Yun had said, that only an endless night of passion would brand her memory?

 

Just as A’Lian teetered on the edge of helpless endurance, Zhen Yao, at a loss, buried her face against her, her tongue tracing the curve between neck and shoulder.

 

Tingling, yearning, yielding, clashing. 

 

At the peak of ecstasy, the softness suddenly turned sharp pearly teeth sinking down without warning.

 

A’Lian gasped in pain, her thighs trembling as she panted heavily. Then, faint but urgent footsteps echoed from beyond the screen.

 

“Mistress—” she murmured, barely a whisper.

 

Zhen Yao, still impeccably dressed, swiftly adjusted their positions, though their bodies remained entwined.

 

“Who’s there? Get out!”

 

Hearing the cold impatience in the voice above her, A’Lian realized just how stern the mistress could be beneath her composed mask.

 

“A’Yao?” Ji Yun’s suspicious voice carried from beyond the screen.

 

“It’s you. Whatever it is, we’ll discuss it later.”

 

A’Lian pricked up her ears, only to be punished with a secretive nip, forcing her to banish all wandering thoughts.

 

But Zhen Yao’s dismissal only provoked Ji Yun’s displeasure. She took two more steps forward, scratching her head in complaint.

 

“Wasn’t it you who called everyone to discuss matters this evening? Besides, that little maid outside, two people can barely restrain her.”

 

“There’s nothing to discuss tonight. Tell the sisters to return to their own quarters. As for the maid, find her a place to stay and tell her Song Lian is safe.”

 

Hearing this, A’Lian huffed in frustration, blowing strands of hair against Zhen Yao’s temple.

 

Ji Yun frowned, her gaze slanting toward the screen. “Fine. But where is Song Lian now?”

 

“None of your concern. Get out, or I won’t be polite!”

 

“Tch, fine, I’m going. No need to be so harsh.” No wonder concubines keep running away.

 

Ji Yun shuffled off, but halfway down the hall, a strange realization struck her.

 

Song Lian of the Hidden Night Faction wasn’t she the concubine who had abandoned A’Yao without a second thought?

 

Something wasn’t right.

 

Ji Yun spun on her heel and marched back, but Zhen Yao had already settled A’Lian out of sight.

 

The folding screen was half-pushed aside, the air thick with tension.

 

“Why are you back?”

 

Even Zhen Yao, usually unshakable, betrayed a flicker of unease.

 

“Ah, Ji Yun just came to greet my sister-in-law.”

 

A pair of sly almond eyes roved over A’Lian, making her cheeks flush for no reason.

 

“I am not your sister-in-law!”

 

The moment A’Lian spoke, the warmth in Zhen Yao’s eyes vanished, her entire demeanor turning as cold as a snow lotus upon a frozen peak.

 

Glancing left and right, Ji Yun suddenly felt her skin prickle with discomfort. Rarely so tactful, she hastily made her excuses: “Look at this pig brain of mine. I still have to treat someone at Yun Village. My apologies for disturbing you two!”

 

Before she could finish speaking, she was already itching to bolt. But the moment she turned her back, she stopped: “Ah Yun, wait. Bring Chen Rong here first before you go.”

 

“That might be—” a bit inappropriate.

 

“Enough nonsense!”

 

Zhen Yao’s gaze was icy, while A’Lian’s resentment was palpable: “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

 

“What a choice of words ‘blackmail.’ Your true feelings are showing.”

 

Zhen Yao looked at her with bitter jealousy, the calm in her heart once again churning into turmoil.

 

“Madam, do you not understand? If she dies, I won’t live either!”

 

A’Lian spoke nothing but the truth after all, the antidote formula was in Chen Rong’s hands. Unfortunately, she was too agitated to notice the implications of her words in the current situation.

 

“What a touching vow of shared life and death—”

 

Zhen Yao nearly fainted, collapsing weakly into Ji Yun’s arms.

 

The scene instantly infuriated Ji Yun: “Song Lian, I only call you ‘sister-in-law’ for Ah Yao’s sake. But how dare you toy with her like this?”

 

Who was Zhen Yao? The leader of the Western Mountain strongholds, a peerless swordswoman in black, and a devoted lover who had eyes for no one else.

 

Such a radiant beauty, pure as the moon and clear as the wind, had now been reduced to a discarded plaything in Song Lian’s hands. A defeated rival in a contest for affection. This was unbearable!

 

“Stop spouting nonsense and trying to drive a wedge between us!”

 

A’Lian trembled with anger. Who was toying with whom, anyway? And why was Ji Yun holding her so tightly?

 

“Truly a product of the Dark Oriole Faction even now, you still dream of having your cake and eating it too.”

 

Ji Yun’s words were cut short as Zhen Yao yanked her sleeve hard.

 

“Ah, you who once commanded heroes with a word are now left speechless by her. Even now, you still want to protect her?”

 

“Ah Yun!”

 

Love was an incurable disease. Zhen Yao, despairing, lost all strength.

 

Their back-and-forth, their clasped hands, their intimate familiarity.

 

Each scene deepened the disgust on A’Lian’s face. She tilted her head and sneered coldly, “Are you done? Had your fill?”

 

“No!” Ji Yun answered bluntly.

 

“Our affairs are none of your business!”

 

A’Lian gritted her teeth, but her defiance was already waning.

 

“Of course it’s my business. I’ve known A’Yao since childhood, and I’m the second-in-command of this mountain. Listen well, Song Lian. If she can’t bring herself to act, I certainly can!”

 

“How dare you!” The rebuke came in unison from the quarreling pair.

 

Ji Yun was furious at their stubbornness. Closing her eyes briefly, she shoved the person in her arms straight at Song Lian.

 

“Like Zhou Yu beating Huang Gai, this is a willing victim and a willing executioner. Why should I meddle in this mess? I can’t stand this so-called love even celestial beings turn into fools because of it. You two can cling to each other all you want. I’ll go fetch Chen Rong right now!”

 

When dragons and tigers fight, a third party only adds to the madness.

 

Without looking back, Ji Yun flicked her sleeve and vanished like lightning from their sight.

 

Silence fell between the two.

 

After an unknown stretch of time, A’Lian flicked Zhen Yao’s smooth, fair forehead.

 

“You’ve taken all the advantages, and now you’ve made me lose face in front of others.”

 

“And what about my dignity?”

 

Ji Yun had a sharp tongue, and there would be endless mockery in the future.

 

“Is she that important to you?” Important enough to care about every little detail.

 

Zhen Yao attempted to argue, but the words that came out were: “I suppose I’m not as important to you as Chen Rong!”

 

“Hmph, spare me your mockery. It’s not what you think between me and Chen Rong. There are things I can’t explain.”

 

“If that’s truly the case, why can’t you tell me?” A flicker of hope ignited in Zhen Yao’s eyes.

 

“I told you, it’s something I can’t explain!”

 

A’Lian was like the mute who had tasted bitter herbs—truly suffering in silence.

 

On one hand, she needed the antidote and feared Zhen Yao’s involvement might ruin everything. After all, Chen Rong responded only to soft tactics; if pushed too hard, she might choose mutual destruction, leaving no one better off.

 

On the other hand, A’Lian was now an informant for the authorities, placing her in direct opposition to Zhen Yao, the leader of the Western Mountain faction.

 

What torment!

 

“Could it be that you and she had a past romance, and you fear I wouldn’t understand?”

 

Zhen Yao closed her eyes with a sigh, resenting A’Lian’s inability to grasp her heart.

 

If one truly loved another, even if they sought a lifetime of devotion, they would still temper their expectations with patience and tolerance.

 

But A’Lian’s reservations were too many, and with the current rift between them, mutual understanding was difficult to achieve.

 

“It’s not—” like that.

 

A’Lian hesitated, her words trailing off, when unexpectedly, Ji Yun arrived, escorting Chen Rong.

 

That wretch quickly assessed the situation and then sneered maliciously: “Well, it’s not entirely untrue. After all, we agreed that once we stole the gold and jewels from your Su Manor, we’d pledge our love for eternity in the capital!”

 

“You—”

 

A’Lian was momentarily stunned, nearly lunging forward to tear Chen Rong apart.

 

But Chen Rong, ever skilled at twisting the truth, not only seized the chance to break free but also wrapped her arms around A’Lian in an intimate embrace, her grip too strong to resist.

 

Nearby, Zhen Yao stood rigidly, her frosty gaze piercingly cold.

 

“A’Lian, is what she said true or not?”

 

Zhen Yao didn’t care about the theft from Su Manor, nor did she mind their past. At this moment, she only wished A’Lian wouldn’t abandon her.

 

But just as A’Lian was about to speak, Chen Rong, pretending to tidy her stray hair, whispered a threat only the two could hear: “If you want the antidote, it depends on your performance.”