My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 599 - 382: Zhao Rong’s Touch, Qingdai Sucking Fingers - The Most Romantic Nanshan Grade Poem in the World (Part 1)

Chapter 599: Chapter 382: Zhao Rong’s Touch, Qingdai Sucking Fingers - The Most Romantic Nanshan Grade Poem in the World (Part 1)

This meal is no longer appetizing.

Xue Can and others watched the young Confucian scholar before them, with only one thought in their minds at this moment.

Disbelief colored their gazes, suspecting they might have heard wrong.

What, you asked us not to bring gifts earlier, saying you’ll treat us to this meal, that everyone should go their separate sunlit ways, and from now on, handle official business impartially, no backdoors.

And now it turns out, you actually want to claim the two top-grade beauties we brought as your own?

So, your meaning is... I handle affairs impartially, but I can’t bear to part with these two beauties, so I reluctantly accept them. However, we still each mind our own business afterward, and I advise you not to overreach.

Xue Can and the others watched Zhao Rong speechlessly.

However, before the crowd could fully digest Zhao Rong’s unreasonable ’declaration of freeloading’, the focus of everyone’s gaze, the young Confucian scholar, suddenly spoke again with a clear expression.

"Oh, right, sorry, that wasn’t for you all. They came up on their own volition, it has nothing to do with you, right?"

Zhao Rong flashed an apologetic smile toward Mu Jin and Li Mingyi, who met his gaze and then nodded.

Zhao Rong, equally satisfied, nodded in agreement, "So, I should say this to the two fairies."

He turned his head towards Su Qingdai and Luo Xiu, saying sincerely, "Fairy Su, Fairy Luo."

The young Confucian Scholar paused for a moment, his smile confident: "I’ll support you."

Upon hearing this, the expressions of the two women varied.

Luo Xiu glanced at Zhao Rong, her pupils constricting slightly without responding.

Su Qingdai furrowed her brows slightly, put down her wine cup, and was about to stand up to say something.

"Slap————!"

Another crisp and resounding clap echoed, and everyone in the hall just from hearing it could sense the intense shaking of her ample form.

Their hearts even skipped a beat.

Good heavens, you’re showing no mercy, the smack lands squarely on the flesh... Many people widened their eyes at Zhao Rong as he once again struck the ’same spot’, now smiling at Su Qingdai.

"Not listening again? Pour the drink."

Su Qingdai’s face turned crimson, her movements frozen in place, staying in the act of bending over and slightly sticking out her Jade Hand.

To be hit by the true Son of Heaven in front of everyone again...

Su Qingdai’s lips, painted with blood-red rouge, parted and closed, the tears welling up at the corners of her almond-shaped eyes glistened with the red candlelight within the hall.

She looked at Zhao Rong with a resentful gaze, and finally, from between her distinctly reddened lips, she squeezed out a sentence in utter shame and indignation:

"You, you... Zhao Ziyu, you bastard, is this how you’ll support me from now on? I... I dislike you now!"

Zhao Rong’s brows rose sharply like a sword; oh, bouncing back after hitting rock bottom?

But at this time, he needed to transform into an arrogant and domineering noble son... he mused internally.

Then, Zhao Rong, with a composed expression, said slowly:

"Go back and note this down; the first rule of the Old Zhao Family is, if a woman misbehaves, she must be punished... "

He didn’t utter the last two words but merely glanced lightly at a particular worn part of the absolutely beautiful Ice Fairy in the black dress in front of him.

The crowd understood instantly. Good heavens, these rules sounded like they belonged to a distinguished and refined family.

Only a young girl with puckered lips, tapping her finger on them, wondered: Huh, since when does our family have such a rule? How come I don’t know about it?

Of course, Zhao Rong couldn’t possibly tell everyone, especially little Qian’er, that this rule was being enforced for the first time; it had always been just talk, considering now the Old Zhao Family, including him, consisted of just Qing Jun, little one, and Qian’er: four people in total. Whose backside would Zhao Rong spank? His heart ached for them; he couldn’t bear to do it.

But rules are slowly established, especially when creating something out of nothing. Today, these two slaps were notably loud and satisfying; it was an auspicious ’inauguration’ upon Fairy Su.

Zhao Rong found it quite meaningful.

With his expression unchanging, his tone commanding: "Don’t cry."

Su Qingdai, who was being ruthlessly bullied by Zhao Rong, turned her lovely face away, glaring defiantly straight at him, "No, I won’t!"

On her exceptionally beautiful face, her arched eyebrows inverted, tears pooling in her eyes, but her lips pouted in defiance. A few strands of hair fell across her forehead, adding a stubborn sweetness to her features.

Oh, quite feisty... that makes it even more interesting.

Zhao Rong instantly perked up, though maintaining an inscrutable smile on his face, he suddenly raised his hand.

Su Qingdai wanted to step back.

"Don’t move," Zhao Rong’s piercing eyes narrowed.

Su Qingdai, naturally icy like an ice mountain beauty, trembled at her lashes, her delicate body subconsciously pausing.

Zhao Rong’s palm cradled her right cheek, but instead of offering soothing caresses or tenderly wiping her tears, he extended a forefinger.

Under the curious and puzzled gazes of the crowd, he pressed his finger on the right corner of Su Qingdai’s fiery red lips.

Then he smeared it from right to left, gliding across her soft, moist rouge lips.

Staining his finger.

Zhao Rong’s fingertip was now covered in the vivid and enchanting, unknown flavored crimson rouge.

In the tearful gaze of Su Qingdai,

Under the clueless stares of the crowd,

Zhao Rong nonchalantly caught hold of Su Qingdai’s Jade Hand, pulling up the large sleeve of her black dress on her left hand, and with his rouge-stained finger, he wrote series of wet, rouge scented phrases exuding the flair of cursive calligraphy.

It was a flowing, graceful script that commanded sidelong admiration, vigorous and elegant, utterly majestic.

However, more than the beautiful calligraphy that made the ladies in the hall reconsider their first impressions, what held their gaze was that rouge-tipped finger of his, gradually tracing out... a poem?