The Beauty with Poison 2 E-Book

Chenyue Shuang

• Herausgeber: via tolino media
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

"The more handsome a man is, the more poisonous he is." The affectionate and kind-hearted Zhou Huan, who was destined to be surrounded by admirers, was originally a humble person in the troubled times. Greed for wealth led him to be tricked and taken to the palace by mistake, accidentally ending up in the emperor's bedchamber. Just after indulging in the pleasures of the flesh, he faced imminent danger. Initially only wanting to escape and survive, Zhou Huan unexpectedly glimpsed the unknown bitterness and helplessness deep within the puppet emperor's heart. "He stands high above everyone, enjoying the wealth and splendor of the world, surrounded by thousands of beautiful women in the imperial palace. Who would have thought that this vast palace wall is actually just a huge prison?" Accidentally getting dragged into this world of fierce competition and survival of the fittest, Zhou Huan chose to confront the challenges. With his shrewd and flexible mind, he maneuvered between various factions, facing opponents like the lonely emperor who was high in position but whose inner loneliness was unknown to all, the general who loved him deeply but found it difficult to express his feelings, and the swaggering and unrestrained wandering swordsman. Dealing with these beautiful women, Zhou Huan suffered greatly, but he also relied on his courage and daring spirit to turn danger into safety again and again. Let's see how Zhou Huan uses his wits and bravery to fight with these beautiful women, turning a losing hand into a winning one, and achieving a legendary story of a humble person's rise to success and winning the heart of a beautiful woman.

Leseprobe

The Beauty with Poison 2 Against the Current

The Beauty with Poison, Volume 2

Shuang Chenyue

Published by Great Wall Publishing, 2024.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.For permission requests, write to : [email protected]

THE BEAUTY WITH POISON 2 AGAINST THE CURRENT

First edition. July 2, 2024.

Copyright © 2024 Shuang Chenyue.

ISBN: 979-8227732644

Written by Shuang Chenyue.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

The Beauty with Poison

Volume Two: Against the Current

Table of contents

Chapter Eleven: Beauty in the Arms

The crimson-robed gentleman stood up, walked over to Timothy, and scrutinized his unconscious form. After a moment of contemplation, his lips curved into a barely noticeable smile. "I've changed my mind. Take this man back to the mansion."Chapter Twelve: Regret Meeting Too Late

Chapter Thirteen: The Feast of Prosperity

Chapter Fourteen: The Lamb to the Slaughter

Chapter Fifteen: Beyond Control

Chapter Sixteen: A Heroic Rescue

Chapter Seventeen: Where Affection Begins

Chapter Eighteen: Gains and Losses

Chapter Eighteen: Gains and Losses

Chapter Nineteen: Proximity to Virtue

Chapter Twenty: A Turn of Events

Chapter Twenty-One: Cutting Through Thorns

Chapter Twenty-Two: On the Eve of Battle

Chapter Twenty-Three: A Lone Rider Enters the Fray

Chapter Twenty-Four: Sudden Changes

Chapter Twenty-Five: Turning Against Each Other

Chapter Twenty-Six: Cunningly Provoking Penelope

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Young Phoenix's Pure Voice

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Unresolved Enemies

Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Great Gift

Chapter Eleven: Beauty in the Arms

"Mr. Shaw... Mr. Shaw..."

In his hazy consciousness, Timothy heard a voice echoing repeatedly in his ears. There was a pair of hands, gently tracing the contours of his cheeks, then sliding down provocatively, roaming all over his body.

Timothy groggily opened his eyes a sliver, vaguely seeing a blurry figure gazing down at him in the flickering candlelight. He reached out, trying to grasp the indistinct shadow, but his hand waved futilely through the air, catching nothing.

"Where am I...?"

Timothy slowly opened his eyes fully and sat up, immediately feeling a splitting headache. He held his head, dazed for a moment as his vision gradually cleared.

He found himself in an unfamiliar, empty room. The dim candlelight flickered in the wind, and when he looked up, he saw an intricately carved window lattice. Outside, the night was deep, and a bright moon hung high in the sky.

Timothy tried to recall why he was here. He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out. He saw a river; on this side, the lights were bright, the drums and music were loud, and the streets were bustling with people. On the other side, it was pitch dark, desolate, and filled with cries of misery.

His mind suddenly cleared, and he remembered. This was the administrative center of Sunder—Rickie.

His thoughts took him back to a few hours earlier, when he was walking on the street across the river. After a long journey, Timothy had finally arrived in Sunder from Poiema. Sunder had just experienced a drought, and millions of starving people had flocked to Rickie, the largest city. From the city gates to the heart of Lower River District, corpses littered the roads, and the starving, clothed in rags, lived on the streets. The air was filled with the stench of rot, and garbage piled high.

However, across the river, the Upper River District presented a completely different scene.

The River Filat divided Rickie into two worlds: one of opulence and one of destitution. On one side, the wealthy and powerful lived in luxury, oblivious to the suffering just across the water. The most famous place in Upper River District was Pavilion Lainey, known for its nightly Mable Banquet. As a hub for the local elite, many considered it an honor to attend. Even the newly arrived Timothy had heard of its fame. The King of Nixie, whom Timothy was supposed to visit, was a regular at these banquets.

It seemed he would have to visit Pavilion Lainey himself, Timothy thought.

However, crossing from Lower River District to Upper River District was no easy task. The only way across was the grand structure of Rainbow Bridge. To prevent the impoverished from Lower River District from causing trouble, strict checkpoints had been set up on the bridge. Entry required proof of identity and a pass; without these, entry was forbidden.

When Timothy reached Rainbow Bridge, he was stopped by the officers at the checkpoint, who demanded proof of his identity.

"I am Palace Manager Timothy, an official of the court."

Timothy was carrying a royal decree, so he was confident.

But the officer remained unmoved, "Palace Manager? Never heard of it. If you're a court official, show your decree."

"Of course, I have it. Wait here." Timothy reached for his waist, only to find that his pouch was missing. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he realized that his pouch, containing all his money, his royal pass, and important documents, was gone.

"Where is my decree!?"

Panicked, Timothy searched frantically, knowing that losing the documents could lead to severe punishment.

The officer laughed at Timothy's distress, "Stop acting. I've seen plenty like you, thinking they can bluff their way through. Go home and sleep."

He shoved Timothy aside.

"Wait! I really am a court official!!" Timothy protested. "My pass was stolen! Take me to see the King of Nixie! He knows me and will confirm I'm not lying!"

"You think you can see the King of Nixie?" The officer drew his sword, pointing it at Timothy, "Leave now, or I'll send you to hell!"

Knowing these officers were bullies, Timothy didn't back down. He pointed at them and shouted, "You dogs! You look down on people? You think I'm scared of you? I demand to see the King of Nixie! Kill me if you want, but only after I've seen him! If I'm lying, I'll cut off my own head and give it to you!"

"Get him, boys!" The officer yelled, and the other officers swarmed Timothy, pinning him to the ground.

But Timothy fought back, shouting, "Help! These traitors are murdering a court official in broad daylight!!"

The bridge was already crowded with people desperate to enter Upper River District. Hearing Timothy's cries, the crowd surged forward, overwhelming the checkpoint.

The officers panicked, drawing their weapons to fend off the crowd, and in the chaos, they forgot about Timothy. He managed to crawl to the side of the bridge.

Among the desperate crowd were many who had nothing to lose. Facing death every day, they were not afraid of the soldiers' weapons. The bridge descended into chaos, with shouts and screams filling the air. Soon, the checkpoint was overrun, and the masses poured into Upper River District.

Timothy was among them.

As the chaos spilled into the Upper River District, guards were dispatched to quell the disturbance. Armed with swords and shields, they slashed at the intruders, and blood flowed freely.

Timothy, the cause of the chaos—though he didn’t see it that way—escaped the slaughter by clambering onto rooftops, leaping between buildings.

In the midst of this turmoil, a procession slowly approached from the distance.

At the center of the procession was a luxurious sedan, carried by attendants. Those who saw it quickly moved aside, some even kneeling in reverence.

"Stop." A cold, melodious male voice commanded from within the sedan.

The procession halted, and an elderly man, dressed as a steward, hurried forward, bowing at the curtain, "What are your orders, young master?"

"What's happening up ahead?"

"Please wait a moment, young master." The steward turned to a guard, "Go see what's going on ahead."

At that moment, a ragged man burst from the chaos, dragging a woman with a baby in her arms. A soldier with a spear chased after them.

"Stop!!"

The couple fled, knocking over several stalls in their path, causing havoc.

"Young master! There's serious trouble up ahead; we need to turn back!" The steward urged.

"Don't panic."

The person inside the sedan chair remained unhurried. As soon as he finished speaking, a slender hand extended from the sedan, gently lifting the curtain. He stepped out slowly.

Timothy was stunned at the sight. The man emerging from the sedan was dressed in a crimson robe embroidered with cloud patterns, a dark silk collar, and wide-sleeved long robes. His long hair cascaded down to his waist, loosely tied with a thin scarlet silk ribbon.

Complementing his noble demeanor was his handsome and delicate appearance, as radiant as the summer sun. From afar, he resembled a jade tree standing tall amidst the clouds, exuding a majestic presence.

Meanwhile, a scream echoed from the front. A man, who had been dragging a woman and running towards them, was struck in the back by a thrown spear. With a groan, he fell to the ground. The woman, terrified, shook her husband's body desperately, but he did not respond. As the officers closed in, she clutched her baby tightly and ran towards the crimson-robed gentleman's entourage.

"Young master! Save us, young master!"

The woman struggled to break through the guards, her baby's cries piercing the air.

The crimson-robed gentleman, however, nonchalantly opened an ivory fan, covering his mouth slightly. His long, phoenix-like eyes narrowed, a frosty glint in his gaze, showing no intention of helping.

Timothy could no longer stand by. He stood up and shouted furiously, "You bunch of heartless men!"

"Who is it!?" Everyone looked up, their eyes landing on Timothy.

Standing on the rooftop, Timothy announced loudly, "I am Timothy, an official of the court! It was I who allowed the refugees in! If you want to arrest someone, arrest me!"

Timothy's declaration caused an uproar below. Even the crimson-robed gentleman opened his eyes slightly wider, silently scrutinizing Timothy on the roof.

The officers' attention shifted to Timothy. Ignoring the woman, one of them pointed at him angrily, "How dare you incite chaos here! Archers, shoot him down!"

At the command, the archers drew their bows, releasing a volley of arrows.

Despite Timothy's bold words, he was no invincible hero. If he stayed put, he would be riddled with arrows. He quickly ducked, but suddenly slipped. With a loud cry, he tumbled down.

"Move aside—I'm falling!"

With a crash, Timothy landed heavily on someone, the impact echoing loudly.

In that moment, Timothy felt his lips press against something soft.

As the dust settled, Timothy realized he had landed on top of someone. The soft sensation was another person's lips.

Stunned for a moment, Timothy quickly pulled back.

He saw that the person beneath him, disheveled, was none other than the dignified and delicate crimson-robed gentleman. The gentleman's fair skin was dusted with dirt, and his lips, which had just met Timothy's, were as red as blood.

"Uh, I... I'm sor..." Timothy's heart raced, leaving him speechless.

Before Timothy could finish, a sharp pain struck the back of his head. His vision blurred as he collapsed unconscious on the crimson-robed gentleman.

"Young master! Are you alright, young master!!"

The butler, holding a wooden stick, stood behind Timothy, his face filled with panic. The guards hurriedly surrounded them, pulling Timothy off the crimson-robed gentleman.

Frowning, the crimson-robed gentleman clutched his chest, coughed a few times, and spoke in a chilling voice, "Cut off this man's tongue! Beat him to death with sticks!"

"Yes!" The guards responded, ready to drag Timothy away.

"Wait!" the crimson-robed gentleman suddenly ordered sharply.

"Young master...?" The guards and the butler exchanged puzzled looks.

The crimson-robed gentleman stood up, walked over to Timothy, and scrutinized his unconscious form. After a moment of contemplation, his lips curved into a barely noticeable smile. "I've changed my mind. Take this man back to the mansion."Chapter Twelve: Regret Meeting Too Late

Purple smoke curled, the scent of incense lingering in the air.

"I'm sorry—!!!"

Lying on the large bed with crimson curtains, Timothy jolted awake, shouting as he sat up in shock.

The sound echoed emptily in the quiet room. Timothy stared blankly for a moment, then looked down to find himself covered by a soft and luxurious quilt. As he looked around, he realized he was not on the street but in an unfamiliar chamber.

Timothy touched the still slightly aching back of his head and mumbled to himself, "Where is this?"

He got out of bed and curiously examined his surroundings. The chamber was spacious and bright, with a layer of soft carpet on the floor. One entire wall was filled with antique treasures, and the furnishings were meticulously chosen. The bedding and cushions were made of the finest silk, and the swaying beaded curtains were inlaid with dazzling gems and jewels.

Though Timothy was no stranger to luxury, he had to admit that the opulence of this place surpassed even the emperor's palace.

As he looked around, a voice suddenly came from behind him.

"Are you awake, sir?"

Timothy turned around to see a beautiful woman in red, leaning against the screen with an ivory fan in her hand, leisurely watching him. It was the same crimson-robed gentleman he had encountered at the Mervyn market.

"It's you!?" Timothy exclaimed in surprise. "You, you are..."

"Penelope Morris," the beauty introduced herself. "You were knocked unconscious by my men and left on the street. Do you remember that?"

Timothy was stunned. "So this place is..."

"My humble abode," Penelope replied, walking forward and sitting down at a table. She gestured with her hand, "Mr. Shaw, please have a seat."

Timothy, still confused, sat down opposite Penelope. He watched as Penelope picked up a wine jug, gently poured two cups, and pushed one towards Timothy.

"My servants were rude to you earlier, Mr. Shaw. I apologize on their behalf," Penelope said, raising her cup in the air and downing it in one go.

After finishing the drink, Penelope showed the empty cup to Timothy. Seeing Timothy staring at her, she lowered her eyes and asked with a slight tilt of her head, "Mr. Shaw, is there something on my face?"

"No, nothing!" Timothy snapped out of his daze and hurriedly drank the wine, awkwardly smiling. "I must apologize for earlier..."

Thinking of the moment he accidentally kissed Penelope, the soft touch still lingering on his lips, Timothy blushed furiously.

"I really didn't mean to be rude to Mr. Morris! It was just an accident! Yes, an accident!"

Penelope had been silently observing Timothy. Seeing him so flustered, she couldn't help but laugh, closing her ivory fan with a snap and giggling.

"Mr. Shaw, if I hadn't seen my servants bring you back myself, I would doubt that you are the same person who stood on the roof heroically reprimanding everyone earlier."

Timothy scratched his head in embarrassment. "That was a different situation. I was desperate to save someone, and I wasn't thinking straight. Now that I think about it, I'm quite scared. If I hadn't slipped off the roof, I might have been shot to death. So I must thank Mr. Morris for saving my life."

Penelope laughed even harder. "It wasn't me who saved you, but the broken tile that made you slip."

With their conversation, the atmosphere thawed completely. Penelope inquired about Timothy's identity, and Timothy, seeing no reason to hide his mission, told Penelope how Queen Owen had sent him from Poiema to Sunder as a military supervisor.

As Timothy spoke, Penelope kept refilling his cup. Since Timothy was a year older than Penelope, after a few cups of warm wine, they started addressing each other as brothers.

"So, brother, you came to Rickie to find His Highness the King of Nixie?"

"Yes. But as soon as I arrived in Rickie, all my belongings were stolen," Timothy sighed. "Now I can't attend the Mable Banquet, nor do I know where to find the King of Nixie. Losing money is one thing, but without the royal edict and documents, I can't even think of returning to Poiema."

Penelope stood up and walked to the window, pondering. "If it's the Mable Banquet, I might have a way to get you in."

"What!?" Timothy looked up, hope rekindled in his eyes. "Penelope, do you mean it!?"

"You're looking for the King of Nixie, right?" Penelope turned and smiled at Timothy. "I'm planning to attend the banquet tonight. Why don't you come with me? If we find the King of Nixie, you can prove your identity."

"Great!" Timothy jumped up excitedly, grabbing Penelope's hand. "It's a blessing in disguise that I met you. Penelope, you must be my guardian angel!"

Penelope instinctively took a step back, averting her gaze.

"But the Mable Banquet is a gathering of nobles and elites. Brother, you'd better change your outfit if you want to attend."

"Really?" Timothy looked at his attire. "But I dressed like this in the palace too."

Penelope shook her head. "That's not enough. The Mable Banquet is no ordinary party. If you don't dress well, you might be looked down upon."

With that, Penelope took Timothy's hand. "Follow me, brother."

Penelope led Timothy through several rooms, each as luxurious as the last, until they reached a room filled with exquisite jewelry. Upon entering, a dozen maids in splendid attire bowed to them. One maid pulled a rope, slowly drawing back a carved jade screen to reveal an array of magnificent clothes.

Penelope walked forward, her slender fingers skimming over the garments until she settled on a dark blue robe. She pulled it out and held it against Timothy, nodding. "This one looks good. Change into it."

Timothy was puzzled, but Penelope's order sent the maids swarming around him. Without giving him a chance to speak, they began dressing him. Helpless, Timothy let them do as they pleased. Changing clothes wasn't enough—they also applied makeup and styled his hair. By the time they finished, an entire hour had passed.

Timothy sat up straight, despite his aching back, not daring to move an inch. He sighed, "Do you always go through this before attending a party?"

Penelope, holding an eyebrow brush, carefully drew Timothy's eyebrows. "Whether attending a party or not, dressing up properly is basic etiquette, isn't it?"

"I didn't know before, but now I do. It turns out being a man is harder than being a woman."

Penelope laughed softly. "I'm surprised, brother. You have such a good appearance, yet you don't make the most of it. Are you really willing to blend in with the crowd?"

After finishing his eyebrows, Penelope stepped back, admiring her work with satisfaction.

"How is it?" Timothy asked curiously.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Penelope led him to a polished bronze mirror and smiled. "Aren't you handsome and dashing?"

"Really?" Timothy stared at his reflection. He wasn't sure about Penelope's taste but felt more comfortable with his usual look. Still, being praised by such a beautiful woman made him a bit shy. "If you say it's good, then it must be."

"But this is not enough," Penelope said.

"There's more?" Timothy sighed, leaning weakly. "Can you tell me all at once?"

Penelope stood behind Timothy, smiling mysteriously at his reflection. "You need to prepare some presentable talents."

"Talents?" Timothy was confused. "You mean like playing musical instruments or painting?"

"Something like that." Penelope nodded.

"But I don't know any of those," Timothy looked at Penelope helplessly. "I'm just a commoner with no skills. What if I'm not prepared?"

Penelope smiled, leaning close to Timothy's ear, whispering, "Then you'll 'die' miserably."

Timothy couldn't help but shiver, raising his head and saying, "I only know how to sing Big Drum Storytelling... Does that count as a talent?"

Penelope seemed a bit surprised. "Of course it counts. You know how to do it?"

Timothy nodded, frowning. "I often listened to it on the streets when I was young, so I picked up a bit, but I'm not very good at it..."

Unexpectedly, Penelope's eyes lit up with interest. She grabbed Timothy's arm and said, "I'd love to hear it! Can you perform a piece right now, brother?"

"Do you really want to hear it?" Timothy suddenly felt a bit embarrassed. He touched his nose, gritted his teeth, and said, "Alright, since Penelope has asked, I will give it a try."

Without delay, Penelope immediately ordered a servant to bring a small drum and two clappers for Timothy. She then pulled over a small stool, sat down at the table, and looked at Timothy with expectant eyes. Timothy, holding the drumstick in one hand and the clappers in the other, cleared his throat and began to sing.

This was a piece Timothy had heard countless times growing up, and he could recite it backward by now. He used to sing a few lines for his neighbors and relatives on a whim, but he was always off-key, and the audience would protest and interrupt him halfway through.

However, this time, Penelope did not interrupt him at all. She listened quietly to Timothy's entire performance of Big Drum Storytelling.

When the last note fell, Timothy let out a long breath, feeling a sense of exhilaration he hadn't felt in a long time.

Clap, clap, clap...

After a long silence, Penelope slowly began to applaud.

Penelope's shoulders shook, and she burst into laughter while clapping.

"Hahaha! This is so interesting, so very interesting!" Penelope clapped vigorously, laughing so hard she couldn't straighten up.

Timothy stared at Penelope in shock. It was the first time someone had given such high praise to his Big Drum Storytelling.

"Really!?" Timothy was so excited he could hardly believe it. "Was my singing... really that entertaining!?"

Penelope laughed until tears streamed down her face, nodding repeatedly. "It was brilliant, brother. Let's perform this at the Mable Banquet tonight!"

Timothy was overjoyed, nearly moved to tears. He put down the drumstick and clappers and hugged Penelope. "Penelope, you're the first person to appreciate my performance like this. Are you really not joking with me!?"

Penelope covered her mouth with the ivory fan, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "I swear..."

Seeing Penelope's reaction, Timothy's confidence soared. He nodded and said, "I knew it! In the past, when I sang this for my neighbors, they said I was torturing their ears. How could that be? I sing very well!"

Penelope, still laughing, agreed, "They don't know how to appreciate it. They can't see how much effort you put into your singing."

Timothy nodded vigorously in agreement, gripping Penelope's shoulders. "You're absolutely right! Penelope, you understand me so well! How fortunate I am to have met a kindred spirit like you. I could die without regrets!"

"I'm really looking forward to tonight," Penelope said with a radiant smile. Behind the half-covered ivory fan, her lips curved into a meaningful smile. "I can't wait any longer."

Chapter Thirteen: The Feast of Prosperity

By the banks of the River Filat at night, the air was cool as water, with festive lights everywhere. Timothy sat in the sedan chair, looking at the dazzling lights outside, feeling as if he were in a dream. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed that just a few hours ago, a gruesome massacre had taken place on Rickie's most famous street. Now, the blood and chaos had long been buried under the hustle and bustle, disappearing without a trace.

Tonight, Timothy and Penelope were heading to Pavilion Lainey to attend the legendary Mable Banquet.

As soon as Penelope's sedan appeared in front of Pavilion Lainey, a commotion erupted in the crowd.

"Look, Mr. Morris is here!"

"Wow! It's Mr. Morris!!"

Amidst the exclamations of men and women, Penelope stepped out of the sedan with an air of indifference and personally lifted the curtain for Timothy. As Penelope took Timothy's hand and they appeared in front of Pavilion Lainey, they instantly attracted everyone's attention, making a grand entrance under the gaze of the crowd.

"Hey!? Who's that beside Mr. Morris? I've never seen him before."

"Oh my, Mr. Morris is holding his hand!"

"Although I don't know who he is, he's quite handsome..."

Dressed in the splendid clothes Penelope had chosen for him, Timothy felt extremely uncomfortable under the scrutiny and comments of the onlookers, embarrassed to the point of wanting to find a hole to hide in.

"Brother, you're walking out of sync," Penelope glanced at him.

"Uh, really?" Timothy cleared his throat, straightened his back, leaned closer to Penelope, and whispered with a serious expression, "Do I look strange? Why is everyone staring at me? What are they talking about?"

Penelope laughed. "It's because you're good-looking, brother."

Timothy was skeptical. "Really? I thought I wore my clothes inside out."

"You'll get used to it. Don't mind others' gazes," Penelope said, pulling Timothy's hand as they gracefully entered Pavilion Lainey.

Upon entering Pavilion Lainey, Timothy held his breath. The hanging lamps and candles illuminated the three-story interior with splendor. The intersecting beams were adorned with exquisite carvings and beautiful murals. In the center of the hall stood a high platform, draped with flowing red silk from the beams, creating a dreamlike and radiant scene under the shimmering candlelight.

Aside from the central hall on the first floor, there were private rooms of various sizes around each level. Standing by the windows of these rooms, one could overlook the entirety of Rickie at night.

When Timothy arrived, the Mable Banquet had just begun. Amidst the melodious music, servants carried delicious dishes to the tables, while the nobles gathered in small groups, laughing and toasting, creating a lively atmosphere.

Is such a luxurious banquet held every night? Timothy couldn't help but marvel at the extravagance and indulgence of the wealthy.

From the moment they entered, Penelope and Timothy were approached and greeted countless times. Many people came specifically to see Penelope, who seemed to be a prominent figure in Rickie, always surrounded by admirers wherever she went.

Seeing Penelope conversing with these elegantly dressed nobles, Timothy couldn't help but wonder what kind of luck had brought him here. Just on his first day in Rickie, he had already formed a connection with someone as influential as Penelope.

As Timothy stood there daydreaming, Penelope quietly approached him. "Brother, look over there. That's the King of Nixie you're looking for."

Following Penelope's gaze, Timothy saw a man sitting in a corner room, drinking and chatting with a few friends. As Timothy curiously observed him, the King of Nixie seemed to notice their gaze and turned his head, their eyes meeting. Timothy couldn't help but be startled.

How similar!

The King of Nixie looked remarkably like Christopher, especially his eyes, which were almost identical. However, unlike Christopher, the King of Nixie was clearly older, at least in his forties, with a trace of weariness in his sharp features.

"Isn't that Penelope?" The King of Nixie exclaimed upon seeing her, slapping his thigh and striding towards them.

"Your Highness, it has been a while. You are still as spirited as ever," Penelope greeted with a bow and a slight smile.

"And you are still as charming as ever, Penelope!" The King of Nixie laughed heartily, patting her shoulder.

Penelope introduced Timothy to the King of Nixie, "Your Highness, do you recognize this gentleman?"

"I have noticed," the King of Nixie said thoughtfully, "From the moment this young man entered, he has been staring at me. Could he be an acquaintance?"

Timothy quickly knelt before the King of Nixie and said loudly, "I am Timothy, sent by Queen Owen to assume the role of military supervisor in Sunder, here to assist Your Highness!"

"You are Timothy!?" The King of Nixie exclaimed, hurriedly helping Timothy up. "I have heard so much about you, Timothy. I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival!"

Timothy breathed a sigh of relief. "So the Queen has already informed Your Highness. Before coming here, I was worried that if Your Highness didn't recognize me and I had no proof of my identity, it would be quite embarrassing. Haha..."

"The Queen?" The King of Nixie shook his head with a smile. "No, it wasn't the Queen."

Timothy was taken aback. "Uh? Then who...?"

The King of Nixie leaned close to Timothy's ear and whispered, "The Emperor."

Timothy's eyes widened, his heart racing. "The Emperor... he mentioned me? What did he say?"

The King of Nixie downed his wine in one gulp, looking at Timothy with a smile but saying nothing.

"Your Highness, please don't look at me like that. It's unsettling!" Timothy said, feeling a bit uneasy.

"Don't worry about the details. Come, let's have a drink together! Timothy, or rather, Mr. Shaw."

Before Timothy could respond, the King of Nixie wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him to the private room, introducing him to his friends. Upon hearing that Timothy was a favorite of Queen Owen, the others eagerly warmed up to him, showering him with enthusiasm.

Just then, a loud drumbeat echoed through the pavilion, followed by the sudden dimming of the candles, leaving only a red lantern on the high platform. In the flickering light, a figure holding a sword appeared faintly behind the swaying red silk.

Timothy was puzzled when he heard someone nearby whisper, "Look, it's Penelope's turn to perform."

(What!? Penelope!?)

Timothy was surprised, only now realizing that Penelope had disappeared from his side.

"This is a tradition at the Mable Banquet," the King of Nixie whispered to Timothy. "Everyone must perform a talent. Only if everyone acknowledges your talent do you pass; otherwise, you have to drink as a forfeit."

So this was the talent performance Penelope had mentioned, the one that would result in a miserable outcome if unprepared? It turned out that even Penelope couldn't escape this so-called tradition.

Timothy looked towards the stage. With a sound of the zither, Penelope raised her hand, and the soft sword in her hand flashed like lightning, darting out like a swimming dragon. With a light tap of her toes, she jumped onto several drums placed on the high platform, gracefully leaping into the air. With the rhythmic and dynamic drumbeats, she danced effortlessly between the drums, her red sleeves fluttering like fire, her belt flowing like a celestial being.

"I never imagined he had such talent..."

Timothy watched the red figure on the stage in a daze, unable to find a word other than "beautiful" to describe what he saw.

The King of Nixie leaned over again. "Penelope's sword dance is arguably the best in Great Alvah. It's not something you can see just anywhere. You're in for a treat tonight."

As the King of Nixie said, the audience was as captivated as Timothy, mesmerized by Penelope's exquisite dance. Cheers, applause, and shouts of admiration filled the hall, everyone's eyes glued to the enchanting figure on the high platform.

"How is it? Isn't it breathtaking?" The King of Nixie asked with a smile.

"It's so beautiful... indescribably beautiful..." Timothy watched without blinking, completely mesmerized.

"But this isn't the most captivating part of the performance. The best part is yet to come," the King of Nixie said, smiling mysteriously.

Before the King of Nixie finished speaking, Penelope leapt into the air, catching hold of a crimson ribbon hanging from the beams. Swinging around the high platform like a soaring phoenix, she dazzled the audience. At the same time, Penelope boldly removed a fine white jade pendant from her neck and tossed it into the air. The pendant traced a graceful arc before landing among the spectators, who clamored to catch it.

Timothy watched in awe as the King of Nixie explained with a smile, "This is Penelope's habit. Every time he performs a sword dance, he throws various priceless jewelry and ornaments into the crowd as gifts."

As the red figure swung closer, Timothy felt Penelope glance at him. Suddenly, something was thrown his way, and he instinctively reached out to catch it. When he opened his hand, he found Penelope's ivory fan.

His heart skipped a beat. He brought the fan to his nose and caught a faint whiff of Penelope's subtle fragrance.

When Timothy looked up again, Penelope had landed on the platform. What followed was even more astonishing. Penelope, appearing intoxicated, began to undress, revealing his pale skin glistening with sweat. He discarded his clothes piece by piece, his muscular, toned body gradually exposed, all under the dim lighting and the veil of thin silk.

"What is he doing!?" Timothy exclaimed, standing up in alarm.

"Don't worry, the best part is yet to come," the King of Nixie replied, leisurely sipping his wine.

Penelope continued stripping, almost entirely naked now. His chiseled muscles and taut waist were clearly defined, his rounded buttocks leading to long, slender legs. If it weren't for the dim light and the thin veil, his private parts would have been exposed to all.

"Your Highness! This, this..." Timothy was red-faced and sweating. "Why isn't anyone stopping him!?"

"I told you, it's part of the performance," the King of Nixie said with a half-smile.

"This counts as a performance!?"

Looking around, Timothy saw that not only was Penelope unfazed, but the audience was also cheering wildly. Some even began to mimic him, stripping off their own clothes in excitement.

Timothy felt his whole world crumbling. The decadence and promiscuity of the nobles were a stark contrast to his innocent and straightforward nature.

When Penelope finished his performance and returned, he had changed into another outfit, looking as elegant as ever.

"Well?" Penelope picked up a glass of wine, approached Timothy, and asked with a smirk, "Brother, did you enjoy my performance?"

Timothy stared into Penelope's still slightly flushed eyes and whispered, "Can I be honest?"

"Of course," Penelope replied, her eyes shimmering.

"You are..." Timothy took a deep breath and said, "A beast in gentleman's clothing."

Penelope was momentarily taken aback before bursting into laughter.

"Well said, I am indeed a beast in gentleman's clothing," Penelope laughed, turning to the crowd. "Everyone, Mr. Shaw here has prepared a special performance for us tonight. What do you think, would you like to see it?"

"Yes!" the crowd roared, "Give us a show, give us a show!"

"Is it my turn now?" Timothy said, resigning himself to fate. Despite losing his confidence after seeing Penelope's explosive performance, he took a deep breath and stood up. "Alright, I'll perform my best piece, the Shaw family Big Drum Storytelling!"

Just like during the day, Timothy held the clappers in one hand and the drumstick in the other, setting up a small drum before him and starting his meticulously prepared performance.

However, when he finished and looked up, he was met with faces as if everyone had eaten something foul.

"Mr. Shaw, is that it?"

"What did you just sing?"

—Unbelievably, the entire hall fell silent. Even the King of Nixie looked awkward. "Mr. Shaw, are you trying to embarrass me? How am I supposed to praise that?"

"Really!? Was my singing that bad!?" Timothy couldn't believe it.

"It was beyond terrible," the King of Nixie replied seriously.

"But Penelope..." Timothy looked towards Penelope, but he just sat there, drinking, completely indifferent.

"Hey! Penelope, didn't you say my Big Drum Storytelling was great!?" Timothy grabbed Penelope's shoulder angrily.

"Did I?" Penelope glanced at him, "Maybe I did? Sorry, I must have said it casually and forgotten."

"You...!" Realizing he had been deceived, Timothy was furious.

"Brother, you lost," Penelope said with a smirk, twisting Timothy's wrist onto the table. "As agreed, the loser drinks."

"That's right!" The King of Nixie placed a large jar of wine before Timothy. "You have to toast everyone here."

Timothy's face turned ashen. He glanced around at the crowd, gritted his teeth, and said, "Fine, I, Timothy, will take my loss. I'll toast everyone here!"

"Wait," Penelope stopped him. "Who said it was just everyone here?"

Standing up, he waved his sleeve and pointed to the entire hall. "It's everyone in Pavilion Lainey. One cup each."

"What—!?"

A bolt from the blue, Timothy's mind went blank.

That night, Timothy didn't remember how he toasted. He only remembered that halfway through, he was already drunk, full of anger and frustration, slumping onto Penelope, protesting loudly. Eventually, he passed out in Penelope's arms, unconscious.

In the dead of night, Timothy felt hands roaming over his body. Drunk and hazy, he could barely open his eyes, his vision blurred.

"Mr. Shaw..."

The voice, hot and close, was seductive.

"Is it you, Penelope..."

Timothy instinctively reached out, pulling the person closer.

"You... hic... made me suffer..." he mumbled, "But if you say... sorry... hic... I'll forgive you..."

The person in his arms struggled.

"Penelope, what are you doing..." Timothy slurred, "Don't move... or I won't be able to... hic... control myself..."

"..."

Silence followed.

Eventually, Timothy slowly opened his eyes.

"Where... am I...?"

He sat up, his head throbbing. He held his head, disoriented, as his vision cleared.

He found himself in an unfamiliar, empty room. The flickering candlelight cast shadows, and through a delicate carved window, he saw the night sky and a bright moon.

Staggering to the window, he gazed at the moon, recalling his journey to Sunder, meeting Penelope, and attending the Mable Banquet.

"Villain! Die—!"

Suddenly, a cold flash aimed straight at Timothy. Reflexively, he ducked, and a sharp blade brushed past his head. With a crash, a masked figure burst through the window, charging at Timothy with a knife.

Chapter Fourteen: The Lamb to the Slaughter

"Help! Somebody help!"

Timothy's mind cleared instantly as he cried out for help, desperately dodging the attacks.

"Who are you!? Why are you trying to kill me!?"

The dagger in the black-clad man's hand whizzed past Timothy's cheeks and arms, leaving bloody trails. Each time, Timothy narrowly evaded the lethal strikes, with the blade almost hitting vital points several times. Timothy scrambled around the chamber, using his agility to dodge and weave around the pillars, trying to outmaneuver his assailant.

"Wait! Let's talk this out. Whatever you want, just say it. I'll give you anything I can!"

Timothy shouted. The black-clad man clicked his tongue in annoyance, then kicked a stool into the air. With a swift horizontal kick, the stool flew toward Timothy like a projectile. Timothy tried to escape, but he was a step too slow. With a heavy thud, the stool struck the back of his head. Timothy's vision went black, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

In his entire life, Timothy had never been knocked out twice in one day by different people using different weapons. A lesser man might have had his skull split open or been left with permanent damage. But somehow, Timothy survived with nothing more than a swollen bump on the back of his head.

However, Timothy questioned whether this could be considered luck. Not only had he been robbed of all his belongings on his first day in Rickie, but he was also now tied up and thrown into an unfamiliar hall, surrounded by a gang of fierce-looking bandits, looking every bit like a lamb awaiting slaughter.

Timothy sat helplessly among the bandits, trembling as he spoke. "Um, can someone tell me what's going on?"

"You said your name is Timothy?"

A clear voice suddenly called out from the hall. Timothy looked toward the source and saw a young man sitting nonchalantly in the main seat to the east. This was the person who had spoken.

Timothy examined the young man closely. Despite his rough attire, the youth had a refined and handsome appearance. He sat in a chair covered with white tiger fur, one leg crossed over the other, supporting his chin with one hand, lazily observing Timothy.

"The Chief Master is talking to you! Why are you just staring?"

A black-clad man barked angrily at Timothy. When Timothy turned to look, he was startled.

"You... you're the one who tried to kill me last night!"

"Chief Master, don't listen to this nonsense! He is Penelope! I, Harley Price, can vouch for it!"

"Wait!" Timothy couldn't bear it anymore. "Which of your eyes sees that I'm Penelope?? Do I have 'Penelope' written on my forehead?? I get it, you're an assassin, hired to kill someone, right? Please, look clearly and make sure you're targeting the right person!"

"If you say you're not Penelope, how can you prove it?"

At that moment, a scholarly-looking man with a refined face and a neatly groomed mustache spoke from the crowd.

"I..." Timothy was momentarily taken aback. "I'll be honest with you. I'm an outsider. Anything that could prove my identity was stolen on my first day in Rickie. I'm penniless and don't know anyone here. If you insist I'm Penelope, I can't prove otherwise. But think about it, if someone as wealthy as Penelope were kidnapped, his family would surely notice. Within three days, they would send someone with a large ransom. Isn't that why you captured Penelope in the first place? For money? Just wait and see. In three days, if no one comes with money to ransom me, you'll know I'm not Penelope."

"Nonsense! Do you think I captured you for money!?" Harley shouted.

"Not for money?" Timothy was puzzled. "Then why? You can't possibly want to make me the chieftain's wife, can you?" He glanced at the Chief Master with his peripheral vision.

"Are you truly foolish or just pretending?" The scholar sneered. "Do you know the reputation of Sabra Village in Sunder?"

Sabra Village?

Timothy's heart skipped a beat. He had indeed heard of many bandit strongholds in the Sunder area during his journey from Poiema. Due to natural disasters and wars, many refugees banded together under capable leaders, occupying mountains and developing their own armed forces. Some powerful factions operated independently, posing a significant threat to the local authorities.

Perhaps Sabra Village was one of the rebellious forces the King of Nixie had mentioned.

The scholar continued, "Many people want to join Sabra Village, but the rule is that they must assassinate or capture a corrupt official or merchant as an Oath of Allegiance. Penelope is one of those targets."

"Oh... I get it now. So you tried to join Sabra Village but captured the wrong person!" Timothy shook his head at Harley. "It's a pity I'm not Penelope. Even if you cut off my head, it won't help you."

Harley, frustrated, retorted, "Stop denying it! If you're not Penelope, why are you wearing his clothes!?"

"He lent them to me."

"Then why were you in his bed?"

"I got drunk, and he took me to his room."

"And this fan!?" Harley stepped forward, holding up Penelope's ivory fan. "This fan is Penelope's beloved possession, never leaving his side. How did it end up with you!?"

"I... picked it up..."

"Nonsense! Such a coincidence doesn't exist!"

"I..."

Timothy was speechless. It dawned on him how suspicious the situation looked. Why did all the incriminating evidence point directly at him? The clothes were chosen by Penelope. The fan was thrown to him by Penelope. He ended up in Penelope's room because he was tricked and got drunk at Pavilion Lainey.

Was it really just a coincidence?

"Could it be..." Timothy's mind reeled, struck by a sudden realization. "I was set up by Penelope?"

"Don't tell us Penelope framed you as a scapegoat?" The scholar said coldly. "Do you think we would believe that?"

"I wouldn't believe it either if I hadn't experienced it myself!" Timothy felt a surge of anger and frustration, slamming his fist on the ground. "Damn you, Penelope! So this was your plan all along! I, Timothy, was so foolish to fall for it!"

"Quite a performance," Harley said dismissively. "Chief Master, whether he's Penelope or not, he's definitely associated with him. He's no good. We should kill him!"

"Associated!?" Timothy's face turned red with anger as he defended himself. "That's not true! I have no connection with Morris! We're not even friends! Chief Master, I'm truly innocent!"

"Silence."

The Chief Master commanded, and the hall fell silent. He had listened quietly for a long time and now stood up, walking slowly to Timothy. With the hilt of his sword, he lifted Timothy's chin.

"If you claim not to be Penelope, you have three days to prove it. If you are an innocent civilian, Sabra Village will not trouble you. But if we find out you are an agent of the authorities..."

Timothy met the Chief Master's sharp gaze and swallowed nervously. "And if I am an agent?"

The Chief Master's eyes darkened. "Then we'll chop you up and feed you to the dogs."

Life is full of unexpected "surprises." One day Timothy was toasting with nobles at Pavilion Lainey; the next, he found himself a prisoner in a bandit's lair.

And it was all thanks to one person.

"I must have been blind!"

Timothy held a straw man in his hand, punching its face. Still unsatisfied, he threw it to the ground and stomped on it several times.

After being thrown into Sabra Village’s dungeon, the bored Timothy wove a small straw man from the scattered hay on the ground. He bit his finger and used his blood to write "Morris" on the straw figure.

"Morris, you better pray that I, Timothy, never see you again. If I survive this, I will make sure you regret it!"

"Who are you planning to make regret it?" A voice came from the entrance of the dungeon.

Timothy looked up to see a young boy standing outside the cell, arms crossed, leisurely observing him. Behind the boy stood two burly men, one with a full beard and the other with a face so dark it shone, indicating he was a Dunn Slave.

The boy had wild hair tied into a high ponytail, and his large, sharp eyes glinted with intelligence.

"Who are you?" Timothy asked curiously.

"My name is Adam Garcia." The boy lifted his chin. "The Chief Master sent me to interrogate you."

Timothy asked, "Interrogate me about what?"

"Less talking, follow me."

Timothy followed Adam to a dark, cramped chamber. As soon as Timothy stepped in, his heart sank.

Though small, the chamber was filled with a variety of torture instruments. Stocks, wooden restraints, the tiger bench, and wooden donkey were familiar to Timothy, but there were also many bizarre devices he couldn’t name.

Once inside, Timothy was tied to a wooden pillar by the two burly men. In front of him was a grand chair, where Adam sat, legs crossed.

"Speak. What is your relationship with Penelope?" Adam crossed his arms and stared at Timothy. "We've checked, and you're indeed not Penelope. But you are definitely not an ordinary person."

Timothy swallowed. "What exactly did you find out?"

"We're the ones asking the questions!" The bearded man beside Adam barked.

"Just answer my questions obediently. Don't say anything unless I ask." Adam cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow.

Timothy’s mind raced. These bandits, enemies of the government, despised both the wealthy and officials. Whether from local or central government, any official would be killed without mercy. It was best to keep his identity hidden and pretend to know nothing.

Adam asked, "Where are you from?"

"Poiema," Timothy answered honestly.

"Poiema?" Adam narrowed his eyes. "Poiema is far from Sunder. Why did you come to this remote place?"

"I.

---ENDE DER LESEPROBE---