Chapter 64: Talk to Your Traumatized Husband First

A dozen of the knee-high, aggressively vibrating rodents launched themselves directly at the cooking fire. Their little claws caught on Cāng Yáo’s pristine, starlight-blue silk dress, ripping the celestial fabric as they scrambled upward. One particularly bold, red-eyed mouse aggressively launched itself at her hand, trying to snatch the glowing jade chopsticks right out of her grip.

Screeeech! The immortal silk tore with a loud, sickening rip.

“SISTER! THE VERMIN!”

Cāng Jì, who had been cowering behind a nearby tree, let out a thoroughly un-princely, high-pitched shriek. Completely abandoning all royal dignity, the Dragon Prince sprinted toward the center fire, leaped into the air, and slapped himself against the side of the massive, hot stone cauldron.

He clung to the rim like a terrified, golden koala, pulling his legs up to avoid the sea of squeaking teeth. “THEY ARE EATING YOUR WARDROBE! WE ARE BEING CONSUMED BY THE LOWLAND ECOSYSTEM!”

“WHO DARES?!”

Cāng Yáo didn’t flee. The Dragon Princess stood her ground, her face still a violent, patchy red from the Hot Pot. Her lips were swollen, her eyes were watering profusely, and she looked exactly like a celestial deity who had just survived a brutal bar fight with a chili pepper.

But the moment she felt the fuzzy, squeaking rodents chewing on her dress and interrupting her demand for more spicy soup… her wrath completely eclipsed the spice.

“Filthy, unwashed, mud-dwelling vermin!” Cāng Yáo roared, her voice dropping into a terrifying, multi-layered bellow that shook the very foundation of the earth.

“You dare lay your filthy paws on the Princess of the First Generation?! You dare interrupt my culinary suffering?!”

Cāng Yáo didn’t even use a magical spell. She simply released a fraction of her true Aura.

The sky above the Thousand Fang Tribe instantly darkened, blotting out the twin moons. A crushing pressure slammed into the clearing. It felt as though a literal mountain had just been dropped directly onto the village.

The deafening squeaking stopped instantly.

The millions of Horned Berserker-Mice froze entirely in their tracks. Their massive, glowing red eyes rolled back in their tiny furry skulls. With a synchronized, pathetic little thud, the entire front line of the swarm simply fainted from sheer, biological terror, their little furry legs twitching uselessly in the dirt.

The rest of the horde didn’t hesitate for a single second. They let out a collective, terrified squeak, pulled a violently sharp U-turn, and scrambled back into the dark treeline a hundred times faster than they had appeared, leaving behind a massive cloud of dust and their unconscious comrades.

A dead, heavy silence descended upon the Thousand Fang Tribe once again.

“Well,” Cāng Yáo huffed, violently flicking a fainted mouse off the shredded hem of her dress and wiping her running nose with the back of her hand. “That was incredibly annoying. Now, mud-rat! Stop hiding in the dirt! Where is my second bowl of the painful broth?!”

Bai Yue slowly peeked over her shoulder. The mice were gone. The cubs huddled securely under her arms and skirt were shaking slightly, but they were completely unharmed.

She looked around the clearing. Up in the nearest tree, Mo Xiao let out a long, shaky breath, his claws still buried deep in the bark.

On the roof of her hut, Zhāo Yàn slowly un-bunched his tails from his chest, coughing lightly and looking deeply embarrassed by his un-Lord-like display of panic.

Cāng Jì slowly slid down the side of the cauldron, his golden robes covered in soot, looking as though his soul had temporarily left his body.

And then, there was the wooden bucket in the middle of the clearing. It slowly lifted, revealing Shěn’s completely unbothered, deadpan face. The Tiger blinked once, placed the bucket down, and stood back up, smoothing his tunic as if nothing had happened.

Bai Yue let out a breathless, slightly hysterical laugh. She sat back on her heels in the dirt, pushing her messy, tangled hair out of her face.

“Mama, are the fuzzy monsters gone?” Yòu Lín whimpered, poking his little fox ears out from under her arm.

“They’re gone, sweetie,” Bai Yue sighed, her heart still hammering wildly against her ribs as she gently patted his head. “The scary shiny lady yelled at them.”

“Excuse me, I am the Dragon Princess, not a scary shiny lady!” Cāng Yáo snapped from across the fire, before immediately hiccuping another puff of black, spicy smoke.

Bai Yue entirely ignored her. She turned her attention to the men who had just dragged half the forest’s rodent population to her doorstep. Her eyes landed on Han Shān, who was calmly brushing frost off his broad shoulders, and then moved to the man sitting in the dirt right beside him.

Yan Shu was still on his knees.

The gentle Red Panda scholar hadn’t moved a single muscle. He was staring directly at Bai Yue. His brown eyes were swimming with a heavy mixture of confusion, lingering terror, and a tiny, fragile spark of disbelief. His fluffy auburn ears twitched nervously.

He looked at the five cubs she was fiercely shielding. He looked at the gentle, protective way her hands rested on their small heads.

He looked at the dirt smudged on her face, completely devoid of the cruel, sneering arrogance she had always worn like a crown.

“You…” Yan Shu whispered, his voice cracking violently in the quiet clearing. “You protected them.”

Bai Yue froze.

She looked at the beautiful, trembling scholar kneeling in the grass. Her third husband. The one she had mercilessly kicked out into the cold. The one whose heart she had broken so thoroughly that his own son wanted to murder her in her sleep to avenge him.

Before Bai Yue could even attempt to formulate a response to the disbelief in Yan Shu’s brown eyes, the tense moment was broken by a tiny, joyful voice.

Bai Yue slowly lowered her arms, releasing her fierce hold on the hiding cubs.

The moment the human shield lifted, little Ruì Xuě spotted the towering, frost-covered figure of the Snow Leopard Alpha.

“Papa!” the cub chirped. His tiny white paws carried him as fast as they could across the dirt, and he practically threw himself at Han Shān. Han Shān smiled, his massive, calloused hands gently scooping the giggling cub up into his arms.

Near them, Hóng Yè finally emerged from his hiding spot.

The teenage Red Panda scrambled over to Yan Shu, grabbing his father’s arm and hauling the trembling scholar up from the dirt.

Hóng Yè shot Bai Yue a glare, he still desperately wanted to hate her, but he had just watched her use her own fragile body as a shield against a monster swarm.

Bai Yue opened her mouth to speak, to offer some kind of explanation to the bewildered scholar, but a sudden weight settled warmly against her back.

A pair of hands gripped her shoulders. Zhāo Yàn.

With a firm but gentle shove, the Fox Lord pushed Bai Yue forward, right in the direction of the staring Yan Shu.

“Go talk to him,” Zhāo Yàn murmured smoothly. He stepped past her. “I will serve the loudly complaining dragonness her painful broth.”

Bai Yue panicked, digging her bare heels into the dirt. She was entirely unprepared to face the devastatingly sad eyes of the husband she had abused. “Wait, but no, I—”

“Shhh,” Zhāo Yàn interrupted softly.

He leaned down, so that his chest brushed against her shoulder. His crimson eyes droppedto her lips, tracing their shape before he leaned in even closer, burying his face near the sensitive crook of her neck.

His breath ghosted over her skin, sending a violent, electric shiver straight down her spine.

“The faster you talk to him, little female…” Zhāo Yàn purred, “…the faster I can mate with this delicious new you. Now go.”

Bai Yue let out a strangled, entirely pathetic squeak.

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