Chapter 94: The Master of the Shadowless Sect

Just a moment ago, he had seemed so otherworldly, like an immortal banished from the heavens and untouched by mortal concerns; yet in the blink of an eye he was acting spoiled and asking her for food. The change in manner was so abrupt that Shen Qianmo found it hard to accept.

Her mouth twitched, and she could not help giving him a long-suffering glance. Looking up at the sky, it seemed to be dinner time already.

Could this fellow have been starving himself, waiting for her to come back?

She shot him a reproachful look and said with mock irritation, "If you were hungry, why did you come all the way here? Doesn’t the Prince's Manor have anything to eat? Must the noble Prince of Xuan travel so far to the Grand Duke's residence on an empty stomach?"

Yet Meng Yuanheng answered with perfect righteousness. "If it isn’t made by Mo'er, I can’t eat it."

Shen Qianmo pressed a hand to her forehead. She was truly defeated by him. Then she suddenly remembered that, because she had rushed to the General's Manor of the Western Campaign to treat Feng Ze's injuries today, she had not prepared a meal to send to the Prince's Manor.

But he had already asked He Qing to report this to him early that morning, so why had this fellow still come looking for her in person?

Still, seeing that he had gone hungry all afternoon, she could not bear to say more. Instead, she had Aunt Xu and the others quickly prepare a few simple dishes so he could at least fill his stomach first.

After being busy at the general's manor all day, she was a little hungry too.

But Meng Yuanheng was truly impossible.

"Mo'er, I can't reach that dish." He pointed at the diced spicy chicken furthest from him, his bright eyes fixed on her with a pitiful expression.

Shen Qianmo rolled her eyes at him and said leisurely, "Meng Yuanheng, don't think that because you're sitting in a wheelchair you can act shamelessly. Your arm is long enough to reach any dish on this table. If you want to be full, do it yourself."

"Does Mo'er despise me?" Meng Yuanheng pouted, his voice turning instantly subdued. "If my legs can never be cured, will you still treat me as you always have?"

When had this fellow become so sensitive? Shen Qianmo looked at him suspiciously, only to catch a flash of sharpness in his deliberately dimmed eyes.

Very well. He was using pity again.

Shen Qianmo was truly speechless. Fortunately, he preferred quiet and disliked having people standing by to serve him during meals, so only the two of them were in the room at the moment. Otherwise, the image of your cold-faced prince would have suffered another blow.

She snorted inwardly, but on the surface she said with feigned consideration, "You want that diced spicy chicken? No problem. Come on, open your mouth. I’ll feed you."

As she spoke, she lifted her chopsticks, picked up a large, bright red chili pepper, and stuffed it into Meng Yuanheng's mouth.

At any rate, he could not taste anything, so it hardly mattered what she fed him.

Meng Yuanheng was overjoyed to see Shen Qianmo being so obedient and considerate for once. He did not even see what it was before opening his mouth and taking a bite. After chewing a few times, however, his brows knitted tightly, and it became hard to swallow. Good manners, though, would not allow him to spit it out directly onto the table, so he could only force it down, cover his mouth, and cough a few times. Looking vexed, he said to Shen Qianmo, "Mo'er, are you trying to burn me alive?"

A spicy taste.

Shen Qianmo's eyes suddenly lit up. She caught his hand and asked urgently, "A Heng, can you feel the heat? Can you taste it again?"

Meng Yuanheng was stunned as well. Yes, how many years had it been since he had felt taste like this? Yet just now, the sharp sting of spice had spread so clearly across his tongue, and that long-lost sensation had left him somewhat unable to believe it.

Shen Qianmo handed him a cup of water and, after he rinsed his mouth, gave him a bite of sweet-and-sour fish. "A Heng, what does this taste like?"

Meng Yuanheng tasted it with graceful composure, then smiled faintly at her. "Sweet with a hint of sour. Mo'er's cooking is indeed excellent."

It seemed his sense of taste had truly returned!

A brilliant smile blossomed on Shen Qianmo's delicate face. "A Heng, this is a good sign. If your sense of taste has recovered, then the day when the cold poison is completely cured is not far off."

"Mm." Meng Yuanheng answered with a soft smile, clearly delighted as well.

Before he met Shen Qianmo, he had not cared at all whether his cold poison could be cured. In fact, he had once thought that he was fated to remain crippled and alone for the rest of his life, enduring the searing agony of each month's poison attack, as if only by doing so could he be worthy of the more than one hundred thousand soldiers who had died unjustly by the Ghost Fury River.

But after meeting Shen Qianmo, he felt that his life no longer contained only national vengeance and family hatred. There were so many things he could do.

He wanted to travel the world hand in hand with her, not merely have her push his wheelchair so that the two of them would never be able to walk side by side.

When she was hot, he could wipe the sweat from her brow; when she was cold, he could add another layer of clothing at once; when she stood quietly in place, he could embrace her from behind; when she did not want to walk, he could carry her or lift her into his arms whenever he wished.

The longer he knew Shen Qianmo, the more he coveted. And all of these beautiful hopes, in just one month, would come true with the complete cure of his cold poison.

At the thought of this, even Meng Yuanheng's usually cool and impassive handsome face was filled with joy.

Yet the next second, the faint smile on his face turned instantly cold. Facing the door, he lowered his voice and barked, "Who is it?"

Shen Qianmo froze, then understood at once. She stood up and opened the door, only to see Qingluo standing outside with tea. Perhaps because she had been startled by Meng Yuanheng's stern rebuke just now, her pretty face was still a little pale.

Although she had not asked for tea to be served, she had no objection since Qingluo had brought it over. Though the girl could not speak, she was always meticulous and considerate, and Shen Qianmo was quite satisfied with her.

So she nodded for Qingluo to come in and set down the tea. Seeing that Meng Yuanheng seemed displeased, she gave her a look, signaling her to withdraw.

Qingluo understood, bowed slightly to her, and quietly took her leave.

Only after Qingluo had gone did Meng Yuanheng's expression return to normal. He took out a somewhat heavy book volume and handed it to Shen Qianmo. "Mo'er, this contains the business affairs of the Ink Sect over the past few years, as well as a list of some of its members who have achieved notable things. Father instructed me to pass it to you."

Shen Qianmo took the book and flipped through a few pages. The text inside was dense and many of the characters were traditional; she could not make sense of it at a glance, and a headache quickly rose in her. She closed the volume, crouched down so she was level with him, and said to Meng Yuanheng in a pleading tone, "A Heng, stay and read it with me. You know I can’t make much sense of the writing here."

It was rare to see Shen Qianmo acting so helpless and spoiled toward him. Her sweet and lovely manner stirred something within Meng Yuanheng, and with a sweep of his long arm he could not help pulling her into his embrace. His low voice, deep and sensual, brushed against her ear.

"Of course. Or were you hoping to find someone else to read it with you, hmm?"

Early that morning, He Qing had come to report to him that the princess consort was going to the General's Manor of the Western Campaign that day to treat General Wuwei's injuries and would have no time to prepare a meal to send to the manor. The moment he heard it, he was displeased. He spent the entire day feeling stifled and unable to eat. By the time the sky was nearly dark and Shen Qianmo still had not returned, he could no longer restrain himself and impulsively came to the Grand Duke's residence to wait for her.

Among the men coveting Shen Qianmo, the one he feared most was Feng Ze, because he knew Feng Ze held a special meaning for her.

And Feng Ze's refusal to accept the imperial marriage decree, even at the risk of defying the emperor, needed no explanation for him to understand why.

Hmph. Feng Ze was truly a grave threat to him. He was simply despicable.

A trace of severity flashed through Meng Yuanheng's cool eyes.

Feeling the arm around her tighten gradually, and hearing the heavy undertone of warning in his words, Shen Qianmo could not help thinking that if she really did find someone else to read with her, and that person happened to be a man, then that man would probably not live long.

Good heavens, this fellow was far too jealous.

Shen Qianmo struggled free from his embrace, about to lecture him, when Changdong's voice sounded from outside the door.

"My lord, urgent report from Commander Yan."

"Come in." Meng Yuanheng released Shen Qianmo, though he still held her shoulder so she would not rise. Straightening his expression, he said in a low voice.

Changdong pushed open the door and strode in, presenting a sealed letter before Meng Yuanheng.

"Give it to the princess consort," Meng Yuanheng said without the slightest hesitation.

"Yes." Changdong turned and handed the letter to Shen Qianmo.

This fellow had truly reached a whole new level of laziness. Shen Qianmo gave him a sidelong glance. Seeing Changdong's deferential posture as he bent to offer the letter, she felt awkward making a fuss, so she took it from him and, under Meng Yuanheng's silent prompting, opened it.

Inside were only a few forceful, powerful characters.

Master of the Hall of Shadowless Gate, Di Mo Han Shan.