Diao Chan gasped, frozen in shock. Trembling, she fell to her knees and hastily lifted Wang Yun from the ground. Her voice quivered with fear. "My lord, you mustn't bow to me! If there is anything you wish of me, please say so. I will obey without hesitation, no matter the cost."
Wang Yun clenched his jaw, his heart burning with hatred. He took a deep breath, suppressing his emotions, and whispered, "I bow to you for the sake of the nation."
Diao Chan's brows knitted in confusion. "I am but a weak and powerless woman. What use could I possibly be to the country?"
For a long moment, Wang Yun said nothing. A flicker of sorrow passed through his eyes before he exhaled deeply. Then, his gaze darkened with resolve. "Just now, as I looked upon you, I realized your beauty surpasses even that of the celestial maidens. In that moment, a plan took shape in my mind—one that could rid the nation of its greatest evil."
Diao Chan hesitated, her breath hitching. "What plan do you speak of, my lord?"
Wang Yun's expression turned somber, his voice a low hiss laced with cunning as he leaned closer, shadows dancing across his weathered face. "I have long known that Dong Zhuo and Lü Bu are men enslaved by their basest desires, their hunger for beautiful women a chink in their otherwise impenetrable armor. Their alliance, forged through the sacred bond of adoptive father and son, is a chain of iron—strong, unyielding, near impossible to shatter by force alone. But we shall use your beauty, Diao Chan, as a blade to sever it, to sow discord between them and set father against son in a storm of lust and betrayal."
He paced the chamber, his silk robes whispering against the stone floor, eyes alight with ruthless intent. "First, I will betroth you to Lü Bu, letting him taste the intoxicating promise of your favor. Then, I shall offer you to Dong Zhuo as a prize, a forbidden fruit to stoke his insatiable greed. Once both men are ensnared by their shared weakness—consumed by jealousy, suspicion, and raw desire—their trust will fray like threadbare silk. Suspicion will breed enmity, and enmity will ignite violence. In the end, one will surely slay the other, their blades drawn not for honor, but for you. No matter which falls—father or son—it will be a victory for the nation, their ruin a cleansing fire for the realm."
A deep sorrow flickered in Diao Chan's eyes, her long lashes casting trembling shadows across her porcelain cheeks. As the weight of Wang Yun's words settled upon her, a shiver of dread coursed through her fragile frame—she, a pampered young lady, had been sheltered in silks and adoration, her beauty a cherished treasure, not a weapon to be wielded in the hands of ruthless warlords driven by primal lust and insatiable appetite like Dong Zhuo and Lü Bu. The thought of their towering forms, their unyielding strength, stirred a quiet terror in her heart—her delicate body, so soft and unmarred, might be torn asunder by the raw force of their hunger, their iron grips threatening to crush her like a fragile blossom in a storm. Her breath caught softly, a faint tremor in her voice as her slender fingers tightened around the edge of her robe, as if to shield herself from the tempest she sensed brewing. Yet beneath her trepidation lay a flicker of something else—a whispered awareness of her own allure, a dangerous power that could unravel empires, even as it left her vulnerable to the whims of such men.
She lowered her gaze, her voice a tremulous whisper, barely audible above the flickering of the chamber's lanterns. "Then… my lord, you will send me away to offer to those merciless titans driven by desire," she murmured, the words laced with a tender ache, her full lips parting slightly as if the confession itself bared her soul. Her delicate form seemed to shrink beneath the weight of her fate, yet there was an unspoken allure in her fragility— a fevered full cloaked in the guise of innocence, her beauty all the more intoxicating for the fear that shimmered in her doe-like eyes.
Wang Yun's chest tightened at her words. He hesitated, then suddenly pulled her into his embrace, his grip both tender and possessive. "Among all my concubines and courtesans, you are the only one I have ever truly cherished. Every night, it is you who has kept me company. But for the sake of our land, I must steel my heart and part with you."
Diao Chan felt a sting in her heart. Hot tears welled up and slipped down her cheeks. She was a vision of breathtaking beauty, her elegance unmatched. Wang Yun, her lord, had claimed her innocence, drawn irresistibly to her allure. Yet now, he schemed to wield her as a weapon to topple the grotesque tyrant, Dong Zhou. A pang pierced Diao Chan's heart. Scalding tears welled in her eyes, tracing silent paths down her cheeks. She turned away, but Wang Yun's hand found her, his rough fingers gently cupping her chin, grazing her soft skin. He leaned closer, his lips brushing her tear-streaked face with tender kisses, tasting the salt of her sorrow. Pulling her into his embrace, he pressed her against him, her full breasts yielding to the hard plane of his chest. His hands roamed her back in slow, soothing strokes, urging her closer until her curves melded into him, igniting a quiet fire. He gazed down at her loosened robe, the glimpse of her cleavage a tantalizing vision—ivory skin aglow in the moonlight, delicate and luminous. Her frame was a masterpiece of softness, fragile yet inviting. But as his mind drifted to the fate awaiting her—the coarse, hairy grip of the bloated, oily Dong Zhou—a flicker of regret stirred within him.
"Do not cry, my love," he murmured, his voice low and filled with an emotion he could not name. "This is the only way."
Diao Chan shuddered under his touch, her breath unsteady. A storm of emotions swirled within her—fear, sorrow, and a faint glimmer of hope. She knew there was no escape. From the moment she was drawn into this scheme, there was only one path forward.
All she could do was accept her fate.