Demon Consort Runs into the Beijing Crown Prince - Chapter 50

That night, Chu Muyun had a dream. In it, he was in the Golden Hall, surrounded by courtiers. Sensing the Martial King’s unstable mood, he peeled a lychee and offered it to him.

“Your Majesty, spit the pit into my palm,” Chu Muyun said softly, his delicate hand cupped near the Martial King’s lips.

The Martial King gazed at Chu Muyun in his arms. The bloodshot, violent glint in his eyes softened with tenderness as he ate several lychees from Chu Muyun’s hand.

If they were an ordinary couple, not an emperor and his consort, onlookers might have praised their affection.

“How utterly scandalous and disgraceful!” A minister, unable to bear the sight any longer, stepped forward and roared, “Your Majesty, you’re blinded! How can you be bewitched by such a demon consort! You…”

Though elderly, the minister’s voice carried with surprising strength, echoing through Qianyang Hall. The Little Demon Consort’s hand trembled, and a freshly peeled lychee slipped from his grasp, rolling onto the floor.

The Martial King frowned, turning to the old minister who had spoken. His hand, which had been about to embrace his Beloved Consort, dropped to grip the sword he never left his side. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it.

A flash of silver light pierced the air. The sword plunged through the old minister’s chest and abdomen, sending blood spraying five paces as he collapsed to the ground.

This old fool is nothing but a living target before me. The Martial King thought coldly. I’ve been a battlefield killer since youth, possessing the strength to draw a three-stone bow and the precision to shoot through willow leaves at a hundred paces.

The assembled ministers were paralyzed with terror, not a sound escaping their lips.

The Martial King’s voice was icy as he ordered the imperial guards, “Retrieve my sword. Drag the corpse out and feed it to the dogs.”

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned to the pale, trembling beauty in his arms. His voice softened with a hint of concern, “Did I frighten you? Next time, I’ll… remember not to do this in front of you…”

“It’s alright,” the Little Demon Consort said, suppressing his fear and forcing a smile. “Your Majesty was so valiant just now! A true hero like Gai Nie! Let me peel another lychee for you…”

“Hmm.” The Martial King ate two more lychees, his eyes narrowing at a minister in the crowd. “General Han, do you have something to say?”

Han Jingchuan stood beside the body of the slain old minister, blood splattered on his boots. He had instinctively reached for his sword to intervene, but the blade’s flash had been too swift.

All eyes turned to him, silently urging him to fulfill his duty to the nation by admonishing the brutal, unprincipled king.

Han Jingchuan couldn’t bring himself to speak. He feared death, too cowardly to rebuke the monarch. Selfishness prevented him from insulting the Imperial Consort. Nor could he, a martial general, spontaneously compose a lofty discourse on benevolence and morality like the Grand Tutor or Prime Minister. In the end, he lowered his head, “This subject has nothing to say.”

“Then step back and return to your proper place,” the Martial King said coldly.

The next morning, Chu Muyun woke up and replayed the dream in his mind.

At first, he had indeed been terrified by the bloody scene. As a pampered young master whose greatest pleasure was dressing up, he had never killed a chicken or a fish, let alone attended the hunting trips in the suburbs of the capital that the noble families often organized. How could he possibly stomach witnessing a person’s gruesome death?

Yet he never feared the Great King. Though the entire world trembled before the Great King like a tiger, Chu Muyun remained unafraid.

The Great King had killed for his sake. His earlier words weren’t entirely flattery. A frail man like himself, utterly unskilled in martial arts, would naturally yearn for a heroic figure.

Chu Muyun never imagined that Lu Hanzhang beside him had shared the same dream.

As the Little Demon Consort nestled in his arms, gently nuzzling him for fear of waking him, Lu Hanzhang opened his eyes. His gaze softened, and he tightened his embrace.

Is that why you wanted to eat lychees with me? Because you remembered that scene?

Actually, they weren’t the only ones who had that dream. Perhaps because several people connected to the events of a thousand years ago had touched the lychees yesterday, they were collectively drawn into the same dream by some mysterious magnetic field.

Even Li Weide, who was on vacation in the Capital, had the dream. Special Assistant Li, a successful man with a million-dollar annual salary, went to the bathroom early in the morning to relieve himself. He glanced down nervously, suddenly feeling a strange chill between his legs. After checking and confirming everything was still there, he let out a long sigh of relief.

Han Jin lay in bed at his mansion, lost in thought, his expression somber.

Xiao Xing jolted awake in her hotel bed, slapping her forehead in shock, “I didn’t even watch any historical dramas before bed last night!” she exclaimed. “This dream is so weird! Teacher Chu and my boyfriend turned into a tyrant and an enchantress?”

After breakfast, Chu Muyun headed to the film set. Lu Hanzhang, who was on a weekend break, had come specifically to visit the set and accompanied him.

Before filming began, Chu Muyun got his makeup done and changed into his costume in the dressing room.

“Teacher Chu, would you like some water?” Xiao Xing approached. It was still chilly while wearing costume, so she had brought Chu Muyun a thermos filled with hot water.

“Yes, I’ll have some,” he replied.

Xiao Xing unscrewed the lid and handed the thermos to Chu Muyun. Her gaze inadvertently met Lu Hanzhang’s, who was standing nearby with a slight frown, watching her. Startled, her hand trembled, and hot water splashed onto Chu Muyun’s pant leg.

In truth, Lu Hanzhang had only just realized that the assistant looked vaguely familiar.

Chu Muyun hissed in pain from the heat.

“Hold it carefully! What kind of assistant are you?!” Lu Hanzhang’s voice was stern as he quickly bent down to examine Chu Muyun’s pant leg. A faint red mark was visible on his pale calf.

“I’m so sorry, Young Master! I didn’t mean to!” Xiao Xing’s legs went weak, and she nearly collapsed to her knees. Her voice trembled, and her eyes reddened, on the verge of tears. “Your Majesty, please spare me… Waaah…”

In that instant, the image of the tyrant from her dream, publicly executing people, flashed through her mind.

“It’s alright, the water wasn’t too hot, it just got my clothes wet,” Chu Muyun quickly reassured the anxious President Lu and the stunned Xiao Xing. “I’m fine, I’ll be more careful next time. …What did you call me just now? What did you call me?”

He feigned surprise, though he wasn’t truly surprised. Xiao Xing had probably suddenly remembered something.

This was a film set, not an empty wilderness. At this hour, numerous staff members were present, some working, others chatting idly, all preparing for the day’s shoot. Drawn by the commotion, they gathered around to see what was happening.

A production assistant who had grown familiar with Chu Muyun over the past few days teased with a grin, “What’s going on here? Filming a palace drama? ‘Your Majesty, spare me’?”

“Just messing around,” Chu Muyun replied.

“Uh, I just blurted it out,” Xiao Xing finally snapped out of her daze, hastily explaining. “I had a weird nightmare last night, and it slipped out without thinking.”

She apologized again to Chu Muyun, “I’m so sorry, Teacher Chu. I didn’t hold the thermos properly and scalded you.”

“Alright, I’m not hurt. Just grab a hairdryer to dry my clothes. We need to get back to filming soon,” Chu Muyun said.

“Oh, oh!” Xiao Xing hurried off to borrow a hairdryer.

Chu Muyun tugged at Lu Hanzhang’s wrist, “It’s okay, don’t worry. It was just a minor mishap.”

“…You’re so clumsy. I should get you a more reliable assistant,” Lu Hanzhang said.

“No need. I’m used to her,” Chu Muyun smiled. “Maybe her hand shook because she remembered something. It’s probably because you’re too fierce.”

He made a fist and pretended to throw something forward, adding sound effects, “Whoosh! You just stabbed a living person to death! Blood sprayed three meters!”

“…You had that dream, too?”

“Yeah, last night’s dream. You had it, too?”

“Do you think I’m too fierce?” Lu Hanzhang’s voice was low.

“No!” Chu Muyun felt like he was raising a big orange tabby cat—fluffy, playful, and prone to moodiness. He knew how to smooth its fur and immediately started coaxing, “Even if others think you’re fierce, I don’t! I love you just the way you are!”

Lu Hanzhang fell silent, sitting beside Chu Muyun and taking his hand to play with it.

“Really, I love you no matter what. I especially love how you’re fierce with others but gentle only with me…” The Little Demon Consort pulled out all the stops to coax his Great King, chattering away. He even dredged up historical scholars’ poems criticizing their relationship, presenting them as proof of their deep affection and scandalous collusion. Hmm, what was that first line from the middle school Chinese class poem I had to memorize? “Emperor Yu, obsessed with beauty, sought to topple nations, yet after years of ruling, his desire remained unfulfilled…”

As Chu Muyun struggled to recall the verse, Lu Hanzhang spoke up, “Let’s have lychees again tonight.”

“Ah…” Chu Muyun’s stomach tightened, his mind instantly flooded with explicit images. But Lu Hanzhang quickly added, “Just to eat.”

“Okay,” Chu Muyun chuckled. “Eat, eat, eat. I’ll feed you.”

Lu Hanzhang, who had been playing with Chu Muyun’s hand, lifted it and gently kissed his fingertips, “Mmm.”

Filming began for today’s scenes.

In the drama, Bu Chongxue and Xue Ming were still in the midst of their bickering and mutual dislike, but beneath the surface, feelings were already stirring between them.

Han Jin seemed completely immersed in his role. Through his performance, Xue Ming’s unspoken love for Bu Chongxue became impossible to conceal, radiating from his eyes and every subtle gesture. The director repeatedly praised Han Jin for his exceptional expressiveness.

Lu Hanzhang sat outside the set, observing the filming process with a furrowed brow.

On his phone screen, a WeChat conversation with a history professor unfolded: [Who was Han Jingchuan?]

[Han Jingchuan was a renowned general from the reign of Emperor Wu of Yu. He was appointed Great General Who Guards the Nation for his meritorious defense against the Xiongnu. Later, distrusted by Emperor Yu Huai, his successor, he was repeatedly demoted. He requested to be stationed at the border and died in a small frontier town, never setting foot in the Capital again.]

Lu Hanzhang then asked: [Did Han Jingchuan have a secret affair with Noble Consort Chu?]

[That’s just a wild historical rumor. It’s based on his eulogy for Consort Chu at his funeral, but historians don’t accept it. As far as we know, it’s still an unsubstantiated rumor. Unless we dig up a love letter he wrote to him someday, haha.]

The history professor ended with an inappropriate joke.

Hmph, Lu Hanzhang thought, just a cowardly fool. His petty ambitions will be buried in the dust of history, unworthy of even a footnote in the tale of the Tyrant and Enchantress.

He didn’t take Han Jin seriously—Han Jin was beneath his notice. Yet watching the two actors share the screen still grated on his nerves.

Lu Hanzhang’s bearing and aura unmistakably marked him as someone of immense wealth and status. With such a formidable figure sitting sternly on the sidelines, even the director grew nervous, his voice softening as he scolded the clueless supporting actors.

Every time the director shouted “Cut!”, Chu Muyun would rush to Lu Hanzhang’s side to soothe his jealous Great King. He showered him with kisses, frantically stroked his tiger-like fur, and poured out sweet nothings like they cost nothing.

During a bathroom break, Chu Muyun frantically texted his manager, Jin Ming: [Can you please stop getting me roles with romance scenes? Someone’s getting jealous! Help! Aaaaaah!]

[I really can’t take any more. Please find me something else.]

[Otter Valley Screaming.jpg]

Jin Ming replied almost immediately, without even asking who was jealous: [Understood. Your star power is rising. You can start taking on serious dramas and leading man roles now. But there’s one thing to keep in mind…]

[You’re currently capitalizing on your looks by starring in idol dramas. If you take on other roles, the makeup might not be as polished, and you might even have to play an unattractive character.]

Chu Muyun replied: [Whatever works, as long as it fits the character.] He was still slightly hesitant about playing an unattractive role, but he was willing to challenge himself.

[Alright, I’ll keep an eye out for suitable scripts for you.]

At noon, President Lu, to apologize for disrupting the production crew, ordered a lavish catered meal and milk tea for everyone. He personally joined Chu Muyun for lunch on set.

Filming resumed in the afternoon, and Chu Muyun barely made it through until the end of the day. After removing his makeup and changing into casual clothes, the two of them arrived at the parking lot. Just like the previous day, they saw Han Jin driving away in his green-plated Bentley.

“If you’re going to find someone, at least don’t pick a man who drives a BYD. If he drives a BYD, he’ll have to drive ride-hailing services after filming. How would he ever have time for you?” Lu Hanzhang suddenly remarked, his tone as cold as ever.

Chu Muyun paused, then realized what Lu Hanzhang meant. So that’s why he had deliberately mistaken the Bentley for a BYD—to set up this punchline.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. The Great King of petty jealousy is so amusing. Hehe.