• Chapter 26 - “Miss, He Didn’t Do Anything to You Last Night, Did He!”

The room lay hushed, only Xia Chen’s chuckles floating about, mingling with the beauty cradled in his arms—a tableau eerily reminiscent of a villain harassing a virtuous damsel.

Xiao Lian gnashed her teeth, face flushed with fury, yet helpless. As Xia Chen had said, a fight here would draw the capital’s elites.

None of them would escape then.

“Sir, since you know who we are, why not release me first? We can sit and talk this out.”

Qingya regained her calm, locking her bright eyes onto Xia Chen’s. This overlooked Zhendong heir hid secrets—far from the mediocrity her Division’s files claimed.

“Can’t we talk in bed?”

Xia Chen’s fingers grazed her tempting, smooth back, sending goosebumps rippling across Qingya’s skin. Her flesh flushed red, electric tingles surging—a strange sensation flooding her mind.

A warning—she was his captive now, yet still dreaming of steering the scene, seizing control.

“Sir, you overheard us, so I’ll be straight. That defense map wasn’t our doing—Dafeng’s Inspectorate framed us, using us as a shield.”

“Why should I trust you? I don’t know who stole the map, but you’re Imperial City Division—that’s ironclad. And you’re no small fry there. Nabbing you and gutting this hideout’s already a fat prize.”

Xia Chen smiled. Map thief or not, handing her over was a win—why chase shadows?

Qingya and Xiao Lian fell silent, stumped. To Xia Chen, catching Division or Inspectorate agents both spelled merit.

“Here’s another deal. If the Inspectorate planted spies in your Division, you’ve likely got some in theirs. Hand over their capital network—prove with evidence the map wasn’t your haul—and I’ll let you go. How’s that?”

Xia Chen’s voice cut through again. Qingya and Xiao Lian, hearts sinking from his last words, lit up—eyes flashing, emotions rollercoastering.

Qingya peered deep into the boy so close she felt his breath.

His looks weren’t his only edge—his ambition outstripped most.

Xia Chen’s eyes gleamed. Catching the Division was a coup, but not enough. If the map wasn’t theirs, the Lamplighters would eventually sniff that out—dimming his haul’s shine.

But if he cracked this first, crippled Dafeng’s Inspectorate network here—not a full sweep, but a heavy blow—

“If I pull this off, Emperor Wen’s gaze might turn my way!”

Xia Chen mused. Smashing a Division outpost wasn’t his ceiling—he craved rapid ascent from this strike.

Though it’d trample the Lamplighters’ pride and draw eyes with his boldness, the gain outweighed the risk.

Five years left—he, a mere Seventh-Rank commander, had to climb fast.

“Why should I trust you? I give you the Inspectorate’s intel, and you flip and nab us—I’d lose everything!”

“I can’t prove it. My word’s your only wager—bet or don’t!”

Xia Chen pinched her tender chin again, forcing her rippling, autumn-water eyes to meet his. His casual words dripped with dominance.

A mystic ripple seemed to pulse from his gaze, nudging her judgment.

She glimpsed again that godlike stare from when she’d breached his mind.

Her thoughts stalled briefly.

Silence stretched long until Qingya’s sultry lips parted.

“Fine—I’ll hand over the Inspectorate’s spy files!”

Dawn broke!

Sunlight spilled in, bathing the room in a golden sea.

On the bed!

Qingya stirred, exhaustion weighing her mind and body.

Her waist ached, legs numb—knees bruised like she’d knelt too long.

Consciousness returned, last night flooding back.

She jolted, peering beside her—sure enough, a man lay there, one hand on her waist. Sensing her stir, that warm grip tightened, pulling her soft frame into his embrace.

Qingya felt his broad, searing chest, her cheeks flaming scarlet.

Glancing down, relief hit—her clothes, though rumpled, were last night’s set.

“Morning!”

Xia Chen’s eyes stayed shut, voice drifting as if still asleep.

“Mind letting me go now?”

Qingya steadied herself. Her covert role demanded purity—no man had touched her, ever. Last night, he hadn’t forced anything, yet they’d shared a bed, limbs entwined.

Her lips pursed, gaze complex. No final step, but her innocence was marred by this Dawu consort.

“Not yet. This yard’s yours—what if I release you and you all shred me to bits?”

Eyes closed, he seemed to see all—wary even now, never dropping his guard.

Last night, curfew locked the streets—he’d stayed over.

“My files ready?”

“Xiao Lian!”

Qingya felt that hot hand on her waist beneath the covers, her gaze tangled, cheeks flushed. She inhaled, calming again, and called out.

The door burst open—Xiao Lian stormed in, eyes bloodshot, radiating menace, a long blade in hand.

“Miss, this bastard didn’t lay a hand on you last night, did he!”