Chapter 68: Gu Yan, I Hate You
Yan Xuerui had nowhere to run.
Her vibrant, rosy silk robes lay scattered beside the bed. Anxious and fearful, Yan Xuerui dared not cry out—only whimpering softly as she flailed with both arms and legs. She left several red scratches on Gu Yan’s shoulders, but he ignored them, growing only more excited. Breathing heavily, he covered her smooth, full chest with blooming marks.
…
After years of sharing a bed, no matter how much Yan Xuerui resisted, their bodies had long grown accustomed to one another. With just a few caresses from Gu Yan, she had already melted into a pool of weakness, surrendering to the storm consuming her.
“Don’t be so rough—”
Her eyes blurred with tears, she clung desperately to his strong arms, her cherry-pink fingertips turning white from the force of her grip.
It truly hurt. In their youth, Gu Yan had been unrestrained, merciless, brutal—she would tremble at the mere sight of him. Only after giving birth to Ming Lan had things gradually improved. Today, however, Gu Yan seemed to be in a foul mood, dragging her back into the nightmares of the past.
This old beast.
With red-rimmed eyes, Yan Xuerui cursed him a hundred times in her heart, yet she had no strength left. All she could do was plead pitifully in a soft, trembling voice.
Her pleas only fueled the fire in Gu Yan’s heart—in this, she had become better at coaxing him than before. Even as he showed no mercy, he murmured in a low, hoarse voice by her ear.
“Alright, alright. As you wish.”
“I won’t be rough, hmm—”
…
Of course, a man’s words could never be trusted in moments like this. Gu Yan knew his wife was delicate and averse to pain, crying out at the slightest discomfort, unrecognizable from her usual self. Today, he followed only his own desires, indulging himself until momentarily satisfied.
Yan Xuerui lay against his chest, her dark hair disheveled, her fair cheeks flushed with an unnatural glow. Her eyes were closed, drifting between sleep and unconsciousness.
Gu Yan gently brushed the damp strands from her face and tenderly stroked her jet-black hair.
After a brief moment of tenderness—unlike his usual self—he did not clean her. Instead, he lifted the bed curtain, slipped on his slippers, and ordered a servant to bring a bowl of water.
He took a sip, leaned down, and fed it to her mouth-to-mouth, helping her drink about half the bowl. In her daze, she faintly shook her head as if trying to resist.
“Be good.”
He soothingly patted her back, a stark contrast to the man who moments earlier had been so rough with her.
Soon, a fine sheen of sweat appeared on Yan Xuerui’s forehead. Gu Yan wiped it away, pulled over a soft silk cover, wrapped her slender, pale form, and held her close.
“Send them in.”
He called out quietly. Moments later, a short, elderly woman in plain clothing, trembling, stepped across the threshold, followed by a girl of about seven or eight holding a tray. On it were a bowl of cinnabar paste, a bowl of clear water, a plain white silk cloth, a silk ribbon, and a silver needle gleaming coldly.
Gu Yan lifted his chin. “Come, begin.”
He had said he would tattoo his name on her. Senior Tutor Gu acted decisively, never hesitating. Last time, he had spared her because she was ill, but this time, he had no such reservations.
Even if she hadn’t come today, he would have found a way to mark her. This time, he was plotting a scheme that risked the extermination of nine generations—if he succeeded, he would make her the most honored woman in the world; if he failed… even though he had made arrangements for her escape, Gu Yan was unwilling to accept that outcome.
She would have to remember him for the rest of her life.
Even if he died, she would never escape him!
Gu Yan bent down, pulled aside a corner of the light blanket on her shoulder, and exposed a small patch of fair, delicate skin.
The old woman silently rolled up her sleeves and washed her hands. The young girl efficiently laid out the tools. She picked up the silk ribbon from the tray and reached for Yan Xuerui’s dangling arm.
“How dare you!”
Before she could even touch her skin, Gu Yan sharply rebuked her, his dark eyes flashing with menace.
Having dominated the imperial court for twenty years, even high-ranking civil and military officials could not withstand Gu Yan’s imposing authority, let alone a mere seven- or eight-year-old girl. The young girl’s knees buckled, and she trembled as she knelt on the ground.
“M-my lord…”
She did not know Gu Yan’s true identity, only that he was a high official. She and her grandmother relied on each other for survival. Her grandmother’s rare skill, combined with her deafness, muteness, and illiteracy, made her highly sought after by certain nobles with particular tastes.
These nobles could take a life on a whim. The young girl said in a trembling voice, “It will hurt during the tattooing, and struggling will make it worse. Binding the lady’s limbs is for her own good.”
“Please understand, sir.”
Having worked in this trade for many years, they had always handled things this way. This was the first time they had encountered someone as uncompromising as Gu Yan.
Hearing this, Gu Yan’s gaze turned even colder, his voice like ice. “Stick to your task. Who gave you permission to touch her!”
His Rui Er was delicate and noble—who dared to bind her in his presence? Gu Yan suppressed his fury, like a fierce beast whose most sensitive spot had been touched.
He didn’t pause to consider that the one who had bound Yan Xuerui most cruelly in the past was none other than himself. When he did it, it was natural; when others did the same, it was unforgivable.
But Gu Yan was dictatorial—even the emperor might not dare argue with him, let alone an old woman and a young girl. The young girl quickly apologized and began preparing.
The old woman was illiterate, so Gu Yan wrote a character for her: “Yan” (衍), from his own name. Characters were more difficult to engrave than patterns, and Gu Yan was frugal, permitting only a small patch of fair skin to be exposed. The old woman scrutinized it for a long time before her withered hand picked up the silver needle and made the first prick.
As the needle pierced her shoulder, Yan Xuerui let out a whimper, trembling as she opened her eyes, her dark lashes fluttering.
She had heard everything but could not move her body. Not a sound escaped her lips. Using all her strength, she couldn’t even shake her head. All she could do was stare with crystal-clear, beautiful eyes burning with fury.
“Be good, Rui Er, it doesn’t hurt.”
Gu Yan, now playing the part of a gentle man, whispered soothingly into her ear. This was originally meant as a “punishment”—he had already sent someone to execute the adulterer. As for his wife… Gu Yan had to admit he still felt tenderness toward her.
The tattooing process was not pleasant. He had initially wanted her to stay awake and feel every needle etching his name into her skin. But in the end, the letter she had brought him softened his heart.
She had been so well-behaved earlier.
The water Gu Yan had fed her was laced with numbing and sedative agents—he couldn’t bear to make her suffer.
Yan Xuerui indeed felt no pain, but the sensation of needles piercing her skin was still faintly noticeable.
She was being branded with Gu Yan’s name.
This realization filled her with panic; the pain was secondary. She whimpered, using all her strength to clutch Gu Yan’s sleeve.
No.
I don’t want this.
No one could hear her silent screams. Gu Yan pulled his sleeve free and instead held her hand.
“Rui Er, I’m here.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
His loving tone nearly made Yan Xuerui faint from rage. The old woman worked steadily, not glancing elsewhere, while the young assistant girl couldn’t help stealing glances at Yan Xuerui.
She is truly beautiful.
Her cascading hair is as black and glossy as satin, her skin lychee-smooth and luminous, her brows and eyes like misty distant mountains, her brow tips quivering faintly, as tender and stirring as dew-kissed peach blossoms.
She has seen many wives and concubines of dignitaries and nobles, but never one as breathtaking as this.
Why isn't she struggling like the others? Is she not in pain?
The young girl sees a teardrop fall from Yan Xuerui's beautiful eyes and thinks she’s weeping from pain.
She composes herself, offers a plain white silk handkerchief to Yan Xuerui, and says softly, "My lady, bite on this, and it won’t hurt."
Of course, Gu Yan would never let Yan Xuerui bite on some handkerchief.
He gives a warning look at the young girl and extends his hand to Yan Xuerui’s lips. "Here, bite me."
Yan Xuerui doesn’t hold back at all, clamping down hard. But now, weakened by the drug, even her full strength only leaves a row of dainty tooth marks.
Unable to vent her anger, the dark intensity in her gaze shifts from initial pleading to resentment, as she realizes resistance is futile.
I hate you, Gu Yan, I hate you!
"I know."
As if able to read her thoughts, Gu Yan lets out a soft, amused chuckle. He gently brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear with his knuckle.
"As long as I am in your heart."
Even if it is hatred, he accepts it.
But really, could she actually hate him?
As if to confirm his thoughts, a clear, bright female voice sounded from outside.
"Father, I heard Mother has returned."
"Your daughter has come to pay respects to Mother."
Ming Lan was preoccupied with A Yina ahead and working on their big plans with his father and second uncle, leaving him swamped. Ming Wei, however, paid closer attention. Despite her mother’s reassurance that it was all an act, the buzz outside about her mom and dad splitting up troubled her deeply.
Hearing that her mother was back home, she immediately came to pay her respects.
Yan Xuerui’s tears started coming even harder, like pearls dropping one by one. Gu Yan gently wiped them away, not messing with her this time.
"Step aside."
He raised his voice, in his best dad voice. "Your mother is unwell and will not see anyone for now."
In front of Gu Mingwei, Gu Yan had always been a kind father. Had Ming Lan received such an order, he would've probably just listened and withdrawn, but Ming Wei was different.
Her voice was panicked: "Ah? Mother is ill again? I’ll get the doctor right away—"
"Gu Mingwei."
Gu Yan knew he didn’t want their daughter to witness this. He gently patted the slender back in his arms, a gesture meant to soothe.
"Return to your room. Tonight, you are forbidden—"
He glanced at Yan Xuerui and switched at the last second from "no dinner" to "grounded," saying sternly, "Do not step out of your room without my permission."
Father's sudden sternness forced Gu Mingwei to comply, yet it had been so long since she'd seen her mother—she missed her and worried about her.
"As you wish, Father. Mother has always been frail, and her illness should not be delayed. Perhaps I should first summon Mr. Gao?"
Mr. Gao had seemingly left the estate for a few days before mysteriously reappearing. Gu Mingwei did not understand her parents' complicated relationship; she was only concerned for her mother's health.
Gu Yan paused for a moment, then barked, "Someone, escort the young lady back to her room."
Outside, everything fell silent. Gu Yan leaned down and kissed Yan Xuerui's tear-reddened eyes.
"It's alright, don't be afraid. She's gone now."
"She is our daughter, and I care for her too."
Yan Xuerui was emotionally overwhelmed. Her chest heaved with each breath, but there was nothing she could do. She closed her eyes wearily, preferring out of sight, out of mind.
The tattoo needle pierced the skin, which was painful and invasive. Gu Yan only allowed a design the size of a coin, and it was soon over. The old woman, who made her living with this craft, tattooed the character as if it were a blooming begonia flower. The crimson vermilion lines were outlined in gold, blooming against snow-white skin, radiating a haunting, seductive beauty.
It was his name.
Gu Yan was captivated, unable to resist reaching out. Just as he was about to touch her, he suddenly jerked back to his senses.
The rest needed no help from the old woman or her granddaughter. Gu Yan took a piece of white silk cloth and carefully bandaged the area, meticulously instructing her to avoid water. Yan Xuerui could not speak and couldn't be bothered with him, keeping her eyes tightly shut.
Gu Yan was not angered. He scooped her up in his arms and personally carried her to the carriage returning to the palace. Before leaving, he suddenly lifted the carriage curtain and planted a kiss on her forehead.
Unlike the earlier urgency that seemed intent on devouring her, nor the comfort during the tattooing, this kiss was light, like a dragonfly skimming the water—fleeting and gentle, so unlike Gu Yan.
"Take care," he said.
Yan Xuerui's eyelashes fluttered, but in the end, she did not open her eyes.
***
The drugged haze from the sedatives left her in a daze. Upon returning to Changle Palace, Yan Xuerui slept deeply. Fortunately, Princess Changle was known to be "frail and sickly," and with the recent summons of the imperial physician, the palace staff had grown accustomed to it. In these tumultuous times, the emperor only sent someone to inquire and had no time to spare for her.
The princess's body was too sacred to violate; no one could strip her clothes to inspect her. Only Bi He, her personal maid, knew the truth. Bi He could read a little, and when the princess returned in a daze, she initially thought it was a flower. Upon closer inspection, it made her break out in a cold sweat.
She dared not speak of it, looking after Yan Xuerui in silence. By the time Yan Xuerui fully regained consciousness, five days had passed.
The tattoo on her shoulder had already scabbed over. She stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long time before suddenly smashing the mirror.