Chapter 3: The Fractured Bond
"I just… I'm not ready to sleep with you yet."
That was what Bibi Dong said.
Her Nine-Curved Flowing Cloud Crown sat askew atop her head, her pale, panic-stricken face trembling. In that moment, she didn't look like the cold, commanding Pope of the Spirit Hall—but like a helpless, fragile woman. Pity stirred at her appearance.
But not in Qin Chuan.
"What does 'not ready' mean?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, as if genuinely curious. "Should we invite your old lover, Yu Xiaogang, to watch us consummate the marriage?"
"Or perhaps you want me to watch you consummate it with him instead?"
"If that's what it takes to count as 'ready'…"
He narrowed his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Then I'm sorry. You may be able to accept that, but I can't."
Disgust flashed across his face without restraint.
"Shut up!" Bibi Dong cried. "I'm not—I didn't—"
Qin Chuan's words struck like venom, her chest heaving as she tried to gather herself. But it was too late. Her trembling lips parted as tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Qin Chuan…" she whispered, collapsing to her knees.
"You… how could you say that to me?"
"Am I really… such a filthy, dissolute woman in your eyes?"
Her voice carried a bitter edge—one of pain, not rage. All the prestige, all the grandeur of the Pope's authority faded, leaving only a broken woman exposed in the aftermath of cruel accusations.
She looked pitiful. Her already breathtaking features now streaked with sorrowful tears. It would have stirred compassion in most men.
But not Qin Chuan.
To him, it all felt off—forced, contrived.
"What's wrong?" he asked coldly. "Do you really think I'd still see you as a pure, untainted lotus after what you just did—drinking that waste's backwash like it was sacred water?"
His stare was unnerving. There was no love in his eyes—only ridicule and loathing.
She performed such a degrading act, and yet she blamed him for being the one with a filthy mind?
What kind of twisted, double-standard logic was that?
Bibi Dong's body shuddered. Her instinct was to lash out—but shame overtook anger.
"A-Chuan, please… don't be mad." She rose from the floor, step by hesitant step, approaching him like a child facing punishment.
"Xiaogang isn't my old lover… I've never done anything to betray you."
"He only came to learn about the secret of the twin martial spirits. You have to believe me."
Qin Chuan didn't move. He stayed rooted in place, staring at her as if she were speaking in riddles.
Avoiding the truth.
Twisting facts.
He felt sick just thinking about it.
"You haven't done me wrong?"
He laughed—a hollow, bitter sound.
"When your husband comes to see you, he must notify the Palace Guardians. But when that man shows up, suddenly your time frees up?"
"You didn't hesitate to sit in his seat. You didn't flinch before drinking his water. Tell me, Bibi Dong, if he farted in that chair, would you have inhaled it lovingly?"
"Pope Bibi Dong, is it really not cheating as long as you don't sleep with him right in front of me?"
"Should I bring him back now? Let you gift him the body I've waited over ten years for?"
His voice had turned icy. Sharp. Cruel.
"A-Chuan, please, stop!" Bibi Dong cried out, her hands clutching at her chest. "Don't say such things… I beg you."
"He's just an old friend. We're not as filthy as you think…"
Tears came again, but this time it wasn't humiliation driving them. It was shame.
She found herself asking—what's wrong with me?
Why had she acted so disgracefully?
The very thought of what she'd done sent a chill down her spine.
Qin Chuan scoffed. "You call me dirty? Yet when you did those things, didn't you find yourself more disgusting?"
He stepped forward.
"Or are you the only one allowed to be vile, Bibi Dong?"
"You—!"
Her face flushed red.
Fury boiled up from her chest, but her mouth failed her. She couldn't find words. Couldn't deny the truth in his accusations.
"What's wrong?" Qin Chuan pressed. "Angry because I exposed your shame?"
"You want to know why our marriage ever felt 'harmonious'?"
"Because of me."
"Because I made it that way."
"You just enjoyed the fruits of my labor—my efforts, my protection. I stood between you and Qian Daoliu's threats. I smoothed your path through the Spirit Hall's political web."
"At night, when you slept, I tucked the corners of your quilt."
"Everything you enjoyed came from me."
He took a breath, then spoke in a low, grave tone.
"I once thought you had your reasons—your secrets—that's why you refused to consummate our marriage. So I never forced you."
"But now I see it clearly."
"There are no secrets. You just never loved me."
"Yet when the teacher arranged our marriage, you didn't refuse. Why?"
"You saw my potential, didn't you? A god-level martial spirit. Level 30 innate soul power. A future so bright it could blind."
"You thought you'd struck gold."
His voice was calm—too calm.
"So don't talk about love now. If you never loved me, then don't keep clinging to what I gave you."
"Accept my request for a divorce."
The chill in his tone turned her blood cold.
Bibi Dong stood frozen.
And finally, she understood.
She remembered what Qian Xunji had said when he arranged the marriage—that Qin Chuan was destined for greatness. A peerless genius.
She hadn't resisted then. In fact, she had even felt anticipation.
Because compared to Qian Xunji, Qin Chuan was better.
He was younger, stronger, and vastly more talented.
But when did it all start to change?
When did his warm light begin to dim?
Ah—six years into the marriage.
The first time he asked to consummate the relationship.
She had rejected him.
From that moment, Qin Chuan began to grow colder. Distant.
And yet strangely, everything in her life started to go smoother.
Qian Xunji's mysterious death. Her ascension to the Pope's throne. Her hold on power strengthening rapidly.
Everything fell into place too easily.
Now, reflecting on it all—Bibi Dong's heart sank.
Because it all pointed to one hidden truth.
Behind the scenes of her success…
…was Qin Chuan.