Scheming Emperor X Hunting Eunuch - Chapter 7.2

They were the withered white color of long absence from sunlight, without any of the clear warmth that living skin should have.

“Is what you’re saying true?”

“Absolutely true.”

A snow-white bone fan touched his chin, forcing him to look up.

“What if you’re lying to this lord?”

Tang Xizhui’s fingers were very cold, slender and strong, not allowing the other party any thought of resistance.

He looked down condescendingly at the person kneeling before him, his eyes behind the mask slightly narrowed.

“This would be of no benefit to this humble one.” Pei Yanci moved his chin away from his curved index finger, meeting his appraising gaze openly and honestly, allowing him to scrutinize as he wished.

Tang Xizhui’s hand fell empty, but he wasn’t annoyed. Instead, the back of his hand caressed his cheek, his fingertips tracing the sharp facial bones.

This clearly carried the meaning of teasing and toying.

This time, Pei Yanci’s gaze darkened slightly, obviously losing some patience as well. He turned his face aside, once again avoiding his hand.

But the hand on his cheek was faster. Just as he had the thought, five fingers gripped his chin, forcefully turning his averted face back toward himself.

“Those who defy this lord all end up dying miserably.”

Pei Yanci seemed not to hear his threat, nor feel the pain from his chin. He once again looked directly into the eyes hidden behind the mask, his gaze carrying a hint of lazy mockery. “Are you afraid?”

The casual gaze grew sinister.

Tang Xizhui released his chin, stepped back half a body’s length, and began to examine the kneeling person before him up and down with a contemplative gaze.

No panic or fear, no flattery or fawning. Pei Yanci’s gaze was open and honest—if he wanted to scrutinize, let him scrutinize.

Looking more carefully, Pei Yanci’s expression remained calm and gentle from beginning to end, all emotions and thoughts well concealed.

He didn’t even need a mask to hide.

His face was his mask—the two had long since become one.

A person he couldn’t see through.

A soft laugh came from behind.

The skin on Pei Yanci’s back tightened as that hand, cold as a dead person’s, gripped the back of his neck through his collar, the tiger’s mouth clamping down.

“This lord never knew that the Eastern Palace had someone even more proud and noble than the Crown Prince.”

“Thousand-Years flatters me.” Pei Yanci’s words revealed no joy, sorrow, worry, or alarm, though for a moment, the hand at his nape revealed some killing intent.

As the hand at his nape glided along his skin at the collar’s edge, the person behind slowly circled around to his front.

The other hand beneath the red robe returned to his waist, now holding a golden mask.

Tang Xizhui removed his mask.

Sensing this, Pei Yanci instinctively raised his previously lowered head.

Golden orange candlelight fell across his shoulders. In the backlighting, Tang Xizhui’s face was alternately bright and dim.

Neither male nor female.

This was Pei Yanci’s first impression of him.

Tang Xizhui’s features and facial contours were soft, yet not lacking in masculine sharpness and strength—existing between worldly male and female, yet transcending the common masses.

Magnificent and eerily beautiful.

But still not quite accurate.

He was like a phoenix flower blooming on bleached bones—passionate, brilliant, dazzling, luxurious to the extreme. His eyes were large but narrow and long, showing languid weariness, with upturned corners. His pupils were dark as desolate, dried ancient wells, yet seemed to contain a trace of mysterious purple. When Pei Yanci’s gaze shifted slightly, that strange color disappeared like an illusion, leaving only terrifying black.

Beautiful to the point of being demonic, bewitching all living beings, yet full of murderous intent, shocking and heart-stopping.

He carried the most gorgeous poisonous thorns, approaching step by step.

Pei Yanci’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

A soft laugh escaped from above his head.

His eyes flickered slightly, and he turned his head aside again. This time, he actively avoided eye contact.

As expected, his face was turned back again.

“You are a very ambitious person,” Tang Xizhui declared.

“In one lifetime, one always has desires.”

“Not content to be merely a servant, you want to depend on this lord?”

“No one would be content with that.”

“Gu Jiuqing is worthless from head to toe. Following him, you’ll never have a chance to rise. But follow this lord, and glory, wealth, beautiful wives and concubines are all within easy reach—as long as you’re loyal.”

“I don’t want these things.”

Tang Xizhui raised an eyebrow slightly, looking into his eyes. “What do you seek?”

Pei Yanci’s gaze paused briefly, his lips slowly curving upward. He reached back to grasp the wrist at the pulse point on his chin, borrowing the force to stand up, pulling him closer, whispering in his ear like lovers.

“I want all these thousands of li of rivers and mountains to bear the surname Pei.”

His crescent-moon eyes rippled with flowing light. “Does Dagong dare to give this?”

Even Tang Xizhui couldn’t help but be stunned for a moment, a smile uncontrollably flowing from the corner of his mouth.

Devastating beauty that could topple nations and cities.

“You certainly dare to dream.” This statement seemed like a huge joke—he didn’t take it to heart at all. “Even if this lord helped you escape your slave status, you couldn’t afford such a price.”

“I want to cooperate with Thousand-Years.”

Unilateral assistance or following was charity—he wanted equal cooperation.

“A mere lowly slave also dares to speak of cooperation with this lord.”

“I believe in Thousand-Years’ good eye for people.”

Tang Xizhui looked at him deeply. “You’re much more interesting than Gu Jiuqing.”

“Am I not also a better choice than him?”

Just as Pei Yanci finished speaking, another palm appeared at the small of his back, five fingers kneading the soft flesh at his waist with neither light nor heavy pressure.

“……”

He didn’t dodge again, forcefully suppressing the tingling sensation, his expression unchanged. “What does Dagong think?”

Tang Xizhui’s hand at his waist applied slightly more pressure, pulling him closer, breathing into his ear.

“Nice waist.”