Volume 1 Chapter 2 Loss of Innocence
Lilan had a long, harrowing nightmare.
In her dream, she seemed to be drowning in the sea, sinking and surfacing, sobbing and pleading countless times, yet no one came to save her.
Outside the tent, the campfire flickered out and flared up again. Just when she thought it was over, the towering figure of her tormentor would press her down once more.
The power imbalance was overwhelming. Desperately struggling, Lilan was powerless; she could only submit to his control, twisted into various poses beneath his hand.
Until dawn broke, she could no longer withstand his assault and collapsed onto the bed, bringing this absurd ordeal to an end.
The man tenderly brushed his fingertips against her warm, delicate face, smooth and fair as a rare jade treasure.
The tent was filled with the scent of fresh grass.
His burning kisses finally settled on the snow-white curve of her neck, leaving one vivid red blossom after another in their wake.
The sun set, bathing the boundless grassland in golden light.
Inside the council tent.
Kedash, the Grassland King, sipped his strong liquor, distractedly listening to the reports of his men.
His thoughts lingered on the warm, exquisite sensation of the night before.
Repeated peaks of ecstasy made him wish he could die on her.
He had long heard that women from the Central Plains were pale and frail, all withered and pitiful, but she, though slender, possessed everything one could desire.
Surely, she would bear children well in the future.
At this thought, an inexplicable surge of impulse coursed through him, and impatience flickered in his eyes.
He longed to return immediately and claim that woman once more.
Setting down his cup, a sudden commotion outside the tent caught his attention.
“The woman the king brought back has hanged herself—”
Bang!
The table inside the council tent was overturned, startling everyone. Before they could react, Kedash dashed out like a gust of wind.
On the beam, the man grabbed her down as if lifting a dead chick.
Lilan fell to the ground, her face flushed red, gasping violently for air, salty tears overflowing and splattering upon the earth.
“Let me die.”
The nursemaid had once told her that hanging was the most disgraceful death for a woman, for after death a grotesquely elongated tongue would hang out, terrifying to behold.
But she no longer cared.
With her broken and battered body, she was loathsome alive; how much worse would she be in death?
She would rather be devoured by wolves or drowned in the river than be violated by barbarians and lose her purity in such a painful way!
Why save her? Why not let her die freely, painlessly?
Ignoring all her pleas, the man violently hoisted her onto his shoulder.
His face darkened with fury, his brows radiating anger, his entire presence imposing and powerful.
The onlookers from the grassland trembled in fear.
“The king seems angry.”
“That Central Plains woman has angered the king; seems she won’t live long,” they whispered mournfully.
The Grassland King wasI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.