The Sickly Emperor Is Only Immune to Me
Chapter 345 - 342 Cumbersome

Chapter 345: Chapter 342 Cumbersome

Sang Jue thought Gui’an was a good name; it reminded him of his daughter, Sang Yuan.

Sang Yuan was the apple of his eye.

Just thinking about her softened his heart.

The shiny long sword in his hand was raised to Xiang Ying’s neck, but he couldn’t bring himself to strike.

His daughter.

Ever since he had a daughter, he had thought of accumulating more blessings for her.

Killing a traitor was easy, killing a mother who had just lost her child was not.

"Xiang Ying, you should thank this child."

By the light of the fire, he glanced at her wet dress and ultimately withdrew his sword.

"Fend for yourself."

He whistled.

A large black horse came running over.

He sheathed his sword and stepped onto the stirrup—

"Mr. Sang!"

Xiang Ying grabbed his robe in time, her swollen eyes filled with resolve, "If you’re not going to kill me, take me to Beiqi with you. Maybe I can be of help to you."

Sang Jue didn’t speak, glancing at the fresh blood on the hem of her dress.

She had just miscarried and needed proper care.

Taking her with him would be a burden.

Xiang Ying also knew she was a burden, pleading urgently, "I’m fine. I can hold on. Trust me. I won’t slow you down. Please."

Her voice had just faded when she could no longer hold herself up and slumped to the ground.

Sang Jue watched her for a while, then patted the horse’s back to have it wait to the side.

He changed his mind.

Perhaps it was still his soft heart, or maybe it was her unyielding spirit.

"Go lie down."

He said coldly, "I will only wait for you one night."

Relieved to see he had agreed, Xiang Ying smiled, "Thank you, Mr. Sang."

She clutched her stomach, got up, and slowly made her way back to the fire.

It was too cold.

Leaving the fire, she would freeze to death.

Sang Jue saw there were not many matches left, so he went to pick up some to bring back.

Xiang Ying hugged her knees, watching the fire. Her body was sweating from the heat, but her heart was cold; she felt as if she were in an ice cellar, her teeth chattering, "You will regret this. Xing Ce, you will regret this."

*

Beiqi Palace

Everywhere was festooned with lights and decorations.

There was still some time until the Emperor’s grand wedding, but joy had already spread throughout the Imperial Palace.

Sang Yan was also starting to choose her wedding items.

Of course, she herself was disinterested.

But Qi Wuya was very keen.

It seemed he wanted to involve Sang Yan, and many of the necessary wedding items required her to make choices.

For instance, the material of the wedding attire included options like Cloud Brocade, Snow-tempered Fabric, and Light Gauze.

"Miss, please, just make a choice."

"Please, miss, if you don’t choose, the Emperor will not spare us."

"We beg you to save us!"

...

Palace Attendants responsible for making the wedding attire each held a tray, with samples of several materials on them for Sang Yan to select from.

Sang Yan had little interest and never even looked at the materials.

The Palace Attendants knelt before her, too afraid, and pleaded pitifully.

Just like those responsible for the wedding wine.

At that time, those attendants also brought several types of wine for her to taste and choose from.

She didn’t choose.

The next day, she heard that those Palace Attendants were punished—fifty lashes—and one palace maid, being frail, died on the spot.

I do not kill Boren, but because of me, Boren dies.

Qi Wuya had precisely targeted her weakness.

"Cloud Brocade."

Sang Yan glanced at it once, and made a random choice.

The Palace Attendants bowed repeatedly with joy, "Thank you, miss. Thank you, miss."

After expressing their gratitude, they quickly got up and left.

Before long, a few more Palace Attendants arrived, carrying several types of spices for her to choose the incense for the wedding.

Choosing incense required smelling.

Sang Yan couldn’t bother with smelling them and carelessly made a choice, which as usual elicited a round of excessive gratitude that seemed to pierce the heavens and tear the earth apart.

She was gradually becoming numb to it.

It wasn’t until nightfall that things finally quieted down.

You Ran sighed with a mix of emotion and envy, "Miss, the Emperor is truly attentive to you. It’s said that the gifts are all personally selected by the Emperor himself."

The Emperor’s wedding gifts were exquisite items presented from all over the country.

There were many fine objects, and for Qi Wuya to pick the finest among the fine, he had indeed put in effort.

However, upon hearing this, Sang Yan remained indifferent, merely responding with a sardonic "heh."

She had no need for Qi Wuya’s attentiveness.

But she couldn’t change Qi Wuya’s attentiveness towards her.

As the evening meal approached,

Qi Wuya came again.

As soon as he arrived, Sang Yan frowned, immediately losing her appetite.

"Yanyan, how are you feeling today?"

He himself was beaming with joy.

Who wouldn’t be overjoyed at the sight of the woman they love?

Sang Yan replied with a cold demeanor, "I’m fine, I suppose."

"What does ’fine, I suppose’ mean?"

He sat down at the dining table, took a sip of wine, and expressed dissatisfaction with her answer, "If they are not serving you well, I will replace them with others. Useless people are not worth keeping."

He was constantly threatening and ready to punish.

It was meant to intimidate her.

Knowing he was fully capable of such actions, Sang Yan didn’t want someone to die because of a word from her, so she tried to appease him by saying, "Fine means it’s quite good."

Qi Wuya smiled contentedly, "Why didn’t you say so earlier? Wouldn’t that have been better?"

Sang Yan: "..."

She clenched her chopsticks tightly and told herself silently: Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry. Don’t stoop to an idiot’s level.

Qi Wuya then shifted the subject, "I’ve seen what you’ve chosen, and it’s all to my liking. Yanyan, we really are of one mind."

He wasn’t lying; Sang Yan’s choices did indeed match his preferences.

This was also the reason for his visit—to share the joy of this connection.

Sang Yan didn’t believe his words, nor did she refute them, but still politely responded, "Oh, is that so? I’m glad you’re happy."

Qi Wuya was indeed happy.

During the meal, he drank quite a bit of wine.

Wine serves as a facilitator of desire.

After eating, he sat on a soft couch, accepting a cup of tea handed to him by You Ran, quietly watching her.

Sang Yan frowned, sitting on a chair beside him.

She was waiting for Qi Wuya to leave, but seeing how leisurely he was savoring his tea, it seemed he wouldn’t be departing anytime soon.

So annoying!

She was tired of dealing with him and picked up a book to flip through aimlessly.

Of course, she couldn’t concentrate at all.

It’s believed that any woman would find it difficult to remain calm under the intense gaze of a man.

She anticipated Qi Wuya losing control again.

So she spoke up before he could, "Aren’t you tired, Emperor? Perhaps it’s best to go rest early."

Her intention to send him away was very clear.

Qi Wuya saw through it but wasn’t angry; instead, he smirked, "I am not tired. Even if I were, one more glance at you would be rejuvenating."

Sang Yan: "..."

What kind of cheesy line was that?

It gave her the chills.

"The Emperor must be joking."

She managed a forced smile and said, "I certainly don’t have the effect of relieving stress."

Qi Wuya shook his head, looking very serious, "You do. If I say you do, then you do."

That was a clear display of autocracy.

Feeling irritated, Sang Yan couldn’t help but retort sarcastically, "Unfortunately, despite the Emperor’s regal influence, it has no stress-relieving effect on me. I am tired, so maybe you should take your leave first."

She was subtly trying to send him away.

But it wasn’t successful.

"I also have the ability to relieve stress. You’ll find out in time."

With those words, Qi Wuya suddenly stood up, approached her, and lifted her from the chair.

Sang Yan was startled and immediately cried out, "What are you doing? Qi Wuya, put me down!"

Qi Wuya did not put her down.

He had been drinking, and as the saying goes, wine doesn’t intoxicate people; people intoxicate themselves.

Just a moment ago, Sang Yan was sitting a few steps away from him, slightly bowing her head with a stray lock of hair covering half her face, the rest of her long black hair cascading over her chest—creating a strong visual contrast against the snow-white skin of her neck.

He had to admit, he was struck by that image.

The strong liquor flowed through his veins, igniting his insides and blood.