Chapter Five: Played

Wu Ling had only one thought in her mind: It’s over.

She had no idea why Cheng Guang called out to her. From her past experience, for these exalted figures—whose status was far beyond her reach—to suddenly seek her out, it was rarely for a good reason.

As an outsider, she had never considered herself a true princess of the Great Zhou, nor a member of its powerful elite.

Living in the forbidden, perilous royal harem, Wu Ling had developed her own unique survival strategy.

She neither listened nor looked nor spoke, making herself invisible amid the palace’s intrigues.

By living so quietly, few ever targeted her deliberately. Aside from a rather modest lifestyle, she had little to worry about.

Wu Ling couldn’t fathom why, despite her low profile, Cheng Guang had singled her out.

She glanced at him once, then hurriedly lowered her head, not daring to meet his eyes, quietly stepping further back.

Cheng Guang chuckled.

“Wu Ling, come here.”

He beckoned again.

Seeing no way to escape, Wu Ling slowly stepped toward him.

“Greetings, Young Lord,” she murmured, head bowed, her voice soft as cotton.

Cheng Guang scrutinized her closely. Until now, Wu Ling had always kept her head low, and he’d never seen her full face. Now, up close, he realized how stunning this future empress of Great Zhou truly was.

Since assuming the role of heir apparent, Cheng Guang considered himself worldly, but he had never seen such beauty.

Wu Ling resembled a pure, flawless white flower: slender and graceful, bright-eyed with gleaming teeth, skin pale as snow, exuding a refined, otherworldly aura that was clear but not alluring.

Her looks were indeed remarkable, but her bearing was nothing like that of a future empress. He felt confident his task would succeed.

A smile tugged at his lips, a hint of the sly wolf coaxing the innocent rabbit, as he spoke gently.

“Wu Ling, have you ever trained in martial arts?”

“Never,” she answered, shaking her head in confusion. “Why have you summoned me, Young Lord?”

Cheng Guang was delighted. Never trained? That was perfect.

He studied her delicate, porcelain face, thinking: My fist, the size of a sandbag—if it landed on her, she’d probably cry for ages.

This would be easy!

A pang of guilt flickered in him for bullying the innocent rabbit. He lowered his voice: “Would you be willing to compete with me?”

“Compete?” Wu Ling was startled, her face paling as she shook her head hurriedly. “I—I can’t.”

Worry shimmered in her bright eyes.

“Can’t? Why not?” Cheng Guang pressed on. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful—I won’t hurt you.”

Confident that he would win since she hadn’t trained, Cheng Guang tried to reassure her.

Wu Ling’s heart sank, on the verge of tears. Why was this nobleman so troublesome, wanting her—someone with no martial training—to compete?

---

Wu Ling had no idea of Cheng Guang’s strength, but she reasoned that, as the heir apparent, with all the rare resources bestowed upon him, his cultivation must be far advanced.

Wasn’t this just bullying?

She wanted to refuse, but she knew Cheng Guang was the son of the State Duke, and the most beloved grandson of Empress Dowager Li—far above her, a mere latecomer royal daughter.

She couldn’t afford to offend him, or her days ahead might be even harder.

Thinking of this, Wu Ling felt tears sting her eyes, shining with grievance.

“Well… alright…”

“How would you like to compete, Young Lord?”

Cheng Guang saw her pitiful expression and reconsidered his plan for close combat. The system’s task only required him to defeat the future empress—there was no stipulation how.

With that, the classic arm wrestling game from his previous life could serve perfectly.

“Come, give me your hand.”

He placed his hand on the stone table, setting his stance.

“My hand?” Wu Ling looked at him in confusion, not understanding his gesture.

Without hesitation, Cheng Guang took her hand, placed her elbow on the stone table, and arranged her posture.

Her hand was unexpectedly soft and cool to the touch, comfortable even, but Cheng Guang’s focus was elsewhere.

“We’ll see whose strength is greater. Press your hand down, and whoever’s hand is pinned to the table loses. If you win…”

He began explaining, intending to promise her some reward to motivate her—but in the next moment—

Smack!

Cheng Guang’s hand was instantly slammed to the table by a surge of force.

His hand turned bright red in a flash.

He hadn’t even reacted before he lost.

“Is this the right way, Young Lord?” Wu Ling asked timidly, surprised at how easily she’d pinned his hand.

She thought the Young Lord was quite kind, patiently helping her learn the rules, deliberately letting her win.

Cheng Guang’s lips twitched, doubt gnawing at him.

This girl was stronger than he’d thought.

“You truly haven’t trained?” he asked again.

“Yes, Young Lord.” Wu Ling nodded.

Cheng Guang took a deep breath, regaining his confidence.

That must’ve been a fluke!

She must have caught him off guard while he, a man in his twenties, was distracted!

Now he’d get serious!

“Let’s do it again. I’ll count three, and we’ll both use our strength.”

Wu Ling obediently agreed.

---

“One, two, three…”

As soon as the words left his mouth—

Smack!

Once more, Cheng Guang’s hand was slammed powerlessly to the table.

His face was a mask of disbelief.

What was happening? Hadn’t this girl never trained? Why was her strength so much greater than his?

Same starting line, and he was a man—yet he’d lost, twice, utterly humiliated by a woman?

“Again!” Cheng Guang gritted his teeth.

He’d played arm wrestling countless times with classmates, and considered himself talented, even mastering several tricks.

Over the next stretch, Cheng Guang used every technique he knew, only to realize: in arm wrestling, raw strength trumps all fancy moves.

Smack, smack, smack…

The sound of hands slamming onto the table echoed again and again.

Silently, Cheng Guang withdrew his hand, expressionless. “No more.”

He hid his hand beneath the table, the skin bright red and trembling.

Inside, Cheng Guang was shattered.

He’d been played!

Absolutely played—Wu Ling was no innocent rabbit!

She was a wolf, playing the game of pretending to be weak right in front of him!

She looked harmless and claimed no training, but how could she possess such strength?

Cheng Guang couldn’t understand—deeply, utterly baffled.

Meanwhile, as Cheng Guang reeled in existential doubt, Wu Ling flexed her wrist.

Her small hand gripped his again, her bright eyes suddenly serious, her expression earnest.

“Young Lord, I’ve learned the rules of this game. Please don’t hold back anymore—let’s compete properly.”

“I don’t ask for much. If I win, just let me leave.”

Her words were sincere, but this honest innocence struck a final blow to Cheng Guang’s fragile ego.

So all those rounds were just warm-ups to her?

No more! He couldn’t play at all!

…