In this mans mind, the scene had already played out. Her in his private quarters, the doors locked, the guards dismissed. Her protests, soft, futile, easily drowned by the silk of his voice and the thickness of his grip.
He imagined her resistance crumbling like wet tissue paper, not because she wanted him, but because he had made sure she had no other choice. He had done it thousands of times before and he would happily do it again.
He knew exactly how to gain obedience, on exactly how to win trust, on exactly how to break defenses. He was confident that any woman in this world was his to be taken once he set his eye on them, but he couldn't be more wrong.
He raised his glass to her and his gaze dropped to her chest as he drank. Any observer would feel it in them, the cold certainty that this man did not see women as people. He saw them as toys for his pleasure.
He saw flesh that he had already, in his mind, stripped, subdued, and taken. And he had done it so many times that he no longer recognized it as wrong. He simply recognized it as his right.
Any man whould have had the urge to crush his skull with a single hand. And in a way it was not just understandable, it was righteous.
Then his attention finally shifted to the man beside her, the poorly dressed figure with a handsome face who could only be her low-born husband, a nobody of no particular significance.
And then something flickered across the envoy's face. Something familiar about the man's appearance, something in his bearing or his features that triggered recognition.
But the feeling was dismissed almost immediately. Surely he was simply imagining connections that did not exist. Surely this was simply a low-born cunt husband of no importance.
The emperor and Ning Jia proceeded to the imperial platform, taking their elevated positions overlooking the ceremony.
Luo He and Jin Mulan proceeded to an ordinary table in the region suitable for their station, a position that was neither close to the throne nor distant enough to suggest exile.
It was rather carefully positioned to communicate their specific role. Jin Mulan sat with her back perfectly straight, maintaining her composed image with the discipline of someone who understood that every gesture communicated something.
Luo He sat beside her with his normal casual demeanor, making no effort at visible presentation or showoff.
They looked, to casual observers, like a cute couple. A gorgeously beautiful woman paired with a handsome but clearly subordinate man, the kind of arrangement that seemed almost quaint in its traditional hierarchy.
#First Assault: The Identity.
The enemies had not waited long to reveal themselves. The emperor of Wu, considering Luo He and Jin Mulan beneath his direct attention.
So he had delegated their humiliation to distant princes and princesses, people of such low status within the Wu family that they occupied positions of negligible importance.
The Feather clan elder had similarly mounted some of his families weakest status holders. Distant cousins and unimportant sons and daughters, to orchestrate problems for the supposed couple.
These delegated antagonists were desperate with hunger for recognition. If they could successfully humiliate Luo He and Jin Mulan their rewards would be substantial.
If they could force them to react with shame or anger, they would receive considerable tribute from their families.
The potential reward far outweighed any personal cost they might incur.
The attacks began subtly.
Couples approached their table with the practiced courtesy of people attending a wedding. They introduced themselves with elaborate bows.
Exchanged pleasantries about weather and political matters, engaged in the kind of superficial conversation that characterized formal events.
And then, consistently, they addressed Luo He as "Myen Show" the traditional title for a kept man. Specially used for a husband married to a woman of power.
The implication was unmistakable. He was merely a pretty face, an ornament, a husband who existed only to provide visual appeal to his wife's status.
After approximately six or seven such encounters, Luo He had arrived at a decision. "Honey," he said quietly during a moment when they were alone.
"For the next people who approach, I want you to introduce me yourself. Tell them I am your pretty-faced husband. Say it before they can assign the title themselves."
Jin Mulan understood his strategy immediately. She nodded once. When the next group of dignitaries approached, the dynamic shifted entirely.
Before they could offer their opening bows and formal greetings, Jin Mulan turned to them with composed certainty.
"This is my pretty-faced husband." She announced, her tone carrying neither shame nor defensiveness, simply statement of fact. The approaching visitors blinked, momentarily disoriented.
They had prepared to deliver the insult. Instead, the insulted party had claimed the designation for themselves.
They had owned the title completely and had transformed it from an attack into a simple description. Every person who came afterward to humiliate him found themselves facing the same dynamic.
Jin Mulan, confident and unashamed, introducing him as her pretty-faced husband with the kind of pride one might use to describe a valuable possession.
The trick lost its power immediately. If Jin Mulan herself regarded the title with such pride, if Luo He seemed entirely comfortable with the designation.
Then attempting to shame him through repetition became meaningless. Their enemies discovered that they could not embarrass someone who refused to experience shame.
The first plan collapsed before it had truly begun.
#Second Assault: The Seduction.
The second trap struck while Jin Mulan was engaged in conversation with someone of considerably higher status.
Luo He stood beside her for a while but soon got bored of being ignored and left to explore the free snack options.
She was speaking to a high official of Wu. Someone whose opinion mattered politically, and the demands of courtesy required her full attention, so she didn't intervene in keeping him close.
She remained in conversation, unaware that her husband was about to face a coordinated assault. Luo He was chilling out eating a sweet cake.
The court women appeared with calculated timing. Five, perhaps six of them surrounded Luo He at his table, their movements synchronized in a way that suggested careful planning.
They touched him where they should not have touched. His arms, his chest, his shoulders. Their hands traced the marks that Jin Mulan and Ning Jia had deliberately created across his skin that morning.
"What are these bruises?" One of them asked, her fingers pressing against the marks with obvious flirtation, despite clearly knowing the answer her self. "Did your wife do this to you?" Another asked.
"How is she in bed?" A third continued, her voice dropping to something more intimate. "Do you actually enjoy her, or do you simply tolerate her humiliation?"
"Come with us instead." Another offered, her hand moving to rest on his arm. "We'll treat you far better than she does. We won't hurt you. We won't humiliate you."
One of the princesses leaned very close, her breasts pressing into his arm, engulfing it and her voice dropping to something highly seductive. She tried to make him his with genuine intent.
"I could be your wife as well," she said. "Leave lady Jin behind. I will treat you far better. I am one of the emperor of Wu's daughters. You could be a proud live-in son-in-law of an imperial family, with actual status rather than this mockery."
They pressed against him with obvious physical intent. One woman sat directly on his lap, her weight settling against him as though she owned that position.
A second followed, positioning herself so that her body was pressed against his. Two more surrounded him, pressing their assets against his hands in movements that were unmistakably seductive.
Luo He's response was perfect. He adopted an expression of complete idiocy. His eyes went slightly unfocused. His smile became vapid, completely devoid of intelligence or awareness.
He simply allowed them to touch him, to press against him, to treat him as though he were a toy to be manipulated. He was enjoying it, every single moment of their attention.
Every evidence of their desperation, every display of their willingness to demean themselves in pursuit of pissing off his wife.
But at the periphery of her vision, Jin Mulan noticed. Her eye contact with the important person she was addressing did not break. Her conversation did not pause.
But her awareness had shifted, she had detected the assault occurring at her husband's table, and she was processing both the situation and the political necessity of completing her current conversation before intervening.
The five minutes felt endless. The court women continued their miniature assault. Touching, flirting, offering seductions and promises.
Luo He continued his performance of idiocy, accepting their attentions with the innocent smile of someone incapable of understanding the implications of what was occurring, yet deeply enjoying it.
Finally, Jin Mulan finished her endless conversation. The minister took his leave, and Jin Mulan turned her full attention to where her husband sat, surrounded by court women in various states of intimate contact.