Chapter 222: The Greatest Joy of a Man

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Night fell, and the entire Qunyu Palace was immersed in silence and anticipation.

The Western Xia women had long since swept the Qunyu Palace spotless, then meticulously adorned themselves, showcasing their most beautiful selves, praying for Zhao Yu's favor.

Moonlight, like fine gauze, gently draped over the palace's glazed tiles, adding softness and mystery to the grand structure, slowly cultivating an atmosphere of subtle intimacy.

Today, Zhao Yu was not busy.

And frankly, Zhao Yu was also looking forward to bedding the Western Xia Empress, Yelu Nanxian. This enemy empress had already stirred in Zhao Yu an unprecedented desire to conquer her.

In fact, even before Yelu Nanxian arrived in Dongjing Bianliang, Zhao Yu had been anticipating their meeting.

Alright.

To say so would be utterly hypocritical.

What Zhao Yu truly longed for then was to possess Yelu Nanxian, to ravish her on the bed, to utterly subjugate her, and to make her bear his children.

Zhao Yu had often wondered: when he stood before Yelu Nanxian and declared her fate in the posture of a victor, what expression would she wear? Despair? Anger? Or submission?

Zhao Yu guessed that Yelu Nanxian would likely play the game of feigned compliance, endure hardship to bide her time, and sacrifice small comforts for greater gains—after all, she was a woman of great ambition, unwilling to accept mediocrity, determined to do something for her homeland, just as she had once persuaded Li Qianshun to send reinforcements to the Liao when it faced annihilation.

Zhao Yu even anticipated that after bearing him a child, she would raise it to be like Li Ren in history—"physically in the Cao camp, mentally loyal to Han," devoted to the Liao.

But so what? First, Zhao Yu would never give Yelu Nanxian such an opportunity; second, if the son she bore him turned out like Li Ren in history—confused and disloyal—he wouldn't mind discarding him, since he had plenty of sons.

As for abandoning Yelu Nanxian, denying her the chance to bear him children?

Zhao Yu had never once considered it.

A man's greatest joy lies in conquering enemies, chasing them, seizing their wealth, watching their loved ones weep, mounting their horses, and embracing their wives and daughters.

This was not only Genghis Khan's motto, but also a primal, instinctive impulse.

It was the product of power intertwined with desire; powerful men, like lions, rarely escaped this impulse—it was the catalyst for their ambition.

Zhao Yu possessed this impulse too, especially after consolidating his unification; he increasingly aspired to become an emperor like Han Wu Di, Tang Taizong, or even Genghis Khan.

This made his ambition harder to suppress, and he grew ever more eager to seize other men's wives and daughters.

Crucially, beside Zhao Yu stood Zhang Chun, a demon who constantly fed him such thoughts—Genghis Khan's motto had nearly become her own, and she would recite it to him at every opportunity.

Of course, Zhao Yu was never a good man to begin with.

This bred in him a bandit's psychology—he longed to seize everything belonging to Li Qianshun (and Yelu Yanxi, even Zhao Ji and Zhao Huan) that he had defeated.

Moreover, from the perspective of the Zhao Song Dynasty, Western Xia was unforgivable.

Since Western Xia split from the Zhao Song Dynasty, it had inflicted comprehensive damage—politically, militarily, diplomatically, economically, and in civilian welfare—seriously hindering Zhao Song's development while continuously bleeding its strength.

Had Zhao Yu and his companions not crossed over and ruthlessly reclaimed Western Xia, the Zhao Song Dynasty would have collapsed under Western Xia's weight, just as the Northern Song had in history, leading to the Jingkang Humiliation.

With such deep, unforgettable hatred, Zhao Yu felt not the slightest guilt in punishing the Western Xia people.

Thus, as lanterns first lit up, Zhao Yu arrived at the Qunyu Palace, accompanied by his entourage, as previously arranged with Xiao Puxian, ready to enjoy the fruits of victory and carry out what he deemed the most important revenge against Western Xia.

The moment Zhao Yu stepped into the Qunyu Palace, it felt as if he had entered a dream woven of light and shadow. Lanterns hung high on either side, their candlelight flickering, stretching his shadow long and amplifying his aura of authority and inviolability. Each step he took was steady and powerful, as if declaring to every Western Xia woman his conquest and dominion over them and their land.

Before Zhao Yu could enter, led by Yelu Nanxian, the Western Xia women knelt in unison in the palace courtyard.

When Zhao Yu arrived before them, Yelu Nanxian led all the Western Xia women in a loud chorus: "Criminals pay homage to Your Majesty! May Your Imperial Majesty live ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand ten thousand years!!!"

Though all women, with nearly a thousand of them, their collective voice was still immense.

Yet Zhao Yu merely uttered a soft "hmm," and instantly, silence fell—every Western Xia woman dared not even breathe, as if the fall of a pin could be heard.

Seeing this, Zhao Yu felt a deep sense of accomplishment, then directly spoke the words the Western Xia women most awaited: "Seeing you have no intention of resisting me, and sincerely repent, I pardon you all. Rise."

Xiao Puxian translated this into Western Xia, and the women rejoiced, rising happily to face Zhao Yu—the new master of their fates.

Seeing how young and handsome Zhao Yu was, many Western Xia women who judged by appearance relaxed, and some even thought this outcome might not be so bad.

Yet most Western Xia women paid no heed to Zhao Yu's appearance; some lowered their eyes obediently, others stared intently, each harboring private calculations, yet all unconsciously revealed a complex emotion—fear of the unknown, helplessness before fate, and curiosity and awe, even hatred, toward this powerful enemy. Yet Zhao Yu's first glance was not at Yelu Nanxian, but at the towering figures of Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei.

Unlike the other Western Xia women, the sisters had not painted their brows or heavily adorned themselves—they wore only light makeup. Now, clad in armor inlaid with turquoise, the stones glimmered mysteriously and alluringly in the firelight, accentuating their martial elegance. Their naturally curly long hair fell loosely over their shoulders, paired with forehead bands—practical for combat yet adding a touch of unrestrained grace.

At first glance, their high cheekbones gave their faces sharp definition, radiating a unique martial spirit, like warrior goddesses stepped from murals—feminine in beauty yet unyielding in majesty. Their facial contours were not traditionally soft or rounded, but angular, with firm jawlines, revealing their courage and strength, projecting an indomitable aura.

On closer look, their phoenix eyes slightly upturned, with elongated tails, sharp as frost-lit stars, as if piercing through all deception on the battlefield; their gaze commanded respect without a word. Their single eyelids added a distinctive charm, brimming with martial vigor. Their eyebrows were standard sword-brows—straight, long, like twin sharp blades slanting into their temples, complementing their phoenix eyes and enhancing their martial elegance, radiating fearless determination.

Their noses were high and straight, with smooth lines adding depth to their faces, making them appear as exquisitely carved. Their lips were slightly thin, elegantly shaped; when closed, they exuded resolve, and when slightly upturned, hinted at a confident smile—as if all difficulties were beneath their notice.

Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei were utterly unlike the others—their presence reminded Zhao Yu of Deng Chanyu from a film he'd watched before crossing over, called "Fengshen."

But Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei were taller than Deng Chanyu, prettier, and—yes—their figures were far superior.

Most crucially, Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei looked exactly alike.

"Holy shit! Absolute stunner!!!"

Consider this: Tong Guan, a eunuch who had seen the world, had immediately favored Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei—how could they be ugly? Especially since their only perceived flaw—height—was not a flaw to Zhao Yu, but an asset.

Moreover, had Xiao Puxian not recognized their potential as beauties, how would she have dared to guarantee their selection for the imperial bed? If she had forced two women Zhao Yu disliked upon him, she risked losing his favor entirely. After all, though Zhao Yu reveled in conquest, his taste in beauty was exquisitely refined, allowing no slack.

Seeing Zhao Yu stare endlessly at Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei, the sisters—who had always lacked confidence—finally believed they might indeed be chosen tonight. Their hearts quickened, cheeks flushed with a faint blush—the delicate hue of maidenly shyness and nervousness, like petals just blooming at dawn, tender and alluring.

Yelu Nanxian watched silently, her heart a tangle of emotions. She had never imagined her spotlight would be stolen by Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei—women she had never once valued.

Yelu Nanxian glanced at Xiao Puxian, who smiled calmly. She realized the situation was becoming delicate; with Xiao Puxian's backing, Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei might truly threaten her leadership among the Western Xia women.

At last, Zhao Yu turned to Yelu Nanxian.

Yelu Nanxian wore a crimson brocade ruqun that hugged her slender waist, yet the gold-threaded lotus vines embroidered across her chest added an unexpectedly alluring, mature sensuality. A gauze shawl cascaded from her shoulders, fluttering as she rose, silver threads woven into its pattern seeming ready to burst forth as a phoenix from clouds. The nine-phoenix hairpin with pearl tassels trembled slightly, the pearls brushing her snow-white neck, casting delicate shadows on her collarbones. Her imperial wide-sleeved robe, woven with Western Xia's signature roundel-and-bead pattern, made her skin gleam like snow; her gold earrings, set with emeralds, intensified the allure of her almond-shaped eyes, filled with springwater.

Clearly, Yelu Nanxian had prepared meticulously. Without Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei, she would have been the most radiant among these Western Xia women—even if not the most beautiful.

Xiao Puxian pressed her Zhu Chun close to Zhao Yu's ear and whispered softly: "Your Majesty is vigorous and potent; one Yelu Chongyuan cannot satisfy you. I recommend Li Lin's wife, the former Consort Mocang, along with the Liang sisters, to attend you tonight. What is Your Majesty's pleasure?"

As she spoke, Xiao Puxian first pointed out the Princess Dowager of Jin, Mocang.

Unexpectedly, the Princess Dowager of Jin, Mocang, wore a standard Song-style green wedding dress.

This clearly indicated that the Princess Dowager of Jin, Mocang, had submitted.

Admittedly, the foreign beauty, Princess Dowager of Jin, Mocang, had her merits. Leaving aside other qualities, her chest—Zhao Yu estimated—was no less impressive than Ma Xiao Jiao's fully developed form.

Zhao Yu nodded, approving Xiao Puxian's arrangement.

Then Xiao Puxianwomen pointed out Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei to Zhao Yu.

Seeing that Liang Damei and Liang Xiaomei would also serve him tonight, Zhao Yu was greatly pleased, and he lavished praise on Xiao Puxianwomen: "Exactly as I wished!"

With that, Zhao Yu walked over and, without hesitation, seized Yelu Nanxian's slender waist in his arms.

Yelu Nanxian, who had never before had such contact with a man, involuntarily trembled; her heart pounded like a startled fawn—thump, thump, thump—her eyes flickered with shock and shame, her almond eyes wide with springtime allure, her breath quickening.

Admittedly, though she had prepared herself mentally, Yelu Nanxian still felt an unprecedented turmoil of panic, shame, and bitterness at Zhao Yu's sudden intimacy. She thought of her identity as Empress of Western Xia, and Zhao Yu as the architect of her homeland's destruction, the man who seized the Eleven Prefectures of Yan-Yun from her ancestral Liao Kingdom—a storm of complex emotions churned within her chest. She forced herself to suppress her inner turmoil, striving to maintain outward composure befitting the dignity of the last Empress of Western Xia, yet a faint, almost imperceptible sorrow crept quietly onto her brows.

Yelu Nanxian wanted to struggle, yet feared provoking Zhao Yu; in the end, she could only let his large hand caress her waist, her cheeks reddening until they seemed ready to bleed.

Zhao Yu seemed unaware of Yelu Nanxian's inner turmoil; with a nearly domineering tenderness, he led Yelu Nanxian and Liang Damei toward the quarters of Jin Wang Fei Mozangshi, Liang Damei, and Liang Xiaomei.

What troubled Jin Wang Fei Mozangshi most was that Zhao Yu's other hand did not embrace her, but instead eagerly wrapped around Liang Damei's waist.

Liang Damei, already trembling with nerves, became utterly flustered. She felt that the fish-scale armor Xiao Puxianwomen had lent her offered no protection—Zhao Yu's hand on her waist seemed to have pierced through the armor and clasped her very soul.

Zhao Yu walked toward Yelu Nanxian's quarters, still holding Yelu Nanxian and Liang Damei, while Jin Wang Fei Mozangshi and Liang Xiaomei obediently followed step by step behind him…

…

(End of Chapter)