Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 567 Planting Seeds Of Rebellion In Queen Xiulan’s Heart

As the moon cast its silvery light upon the Moonlit Gardens, Queen Xiulan found herself drawn once more to the familiar melody. The soft strains of Wang Jian’s guqin called to her, a beacon in the sea of her emotional turmoil.

Tonight, his music was different. It carried a hint of mischief, a playful energy that danced alongside the familiar yearning. As she approached, Wang Jian greeted her with a slight bow. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice like smooth silk, “you grace these gardens with your presence once again.”

Queen Xiulan, a faint smile playing on her lips, acknowledged him with a nod. “Your music,” she admitted, “it offers a welcome respite from the burdens of the day.”

Tonight, his performance was a spectacle. He didn’t just play; he weaved intricate stories into the music. Tales of star-crossed lovers, of daring duels, and even humorous anecdotes about mischievous devils living in the bustling capital settlement outside the palace walls.

Queen Xiulan, captivated by his artistry, found herself leaning closer, her eyes wide with surprise. “How do you know these stories?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Wang Jian chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Knowledge, Your Majesty,” he said, “is a fickle thing. It can be found in the whispers of the wind, the rustling of leaves, or even the strumming of a humble guqin.”

His words were enigmatic, yet oddly intriguing. The more she interacted with him, the more she realized there was a depth to him that went beyond his musical prowess. He was a mystery, a welcome distraction from the suffocating world of courtly politics and the betrayal that gnawed at her.

Over the next two days, their nightly encounters became a cherished ritual. Queen Xiulan found herself looking forward to the evenings, eager to escape into the world of melody and stories that Wang Jian created. The music resonated with her emotions, reflecting her pain, her defiance, and a burgeoning sense of… affection.

Yes, affection. She couldn’t deny the warmth she felt when he looked at her, the way his music seemed to speak directly to her soul. It was wrong, of course, unthinkable even, yet it felt so… liberating.

One evening, as the music reached a crescendo, a thought struck her. “Wang Jian,” she began, her voice hesitant, “do you ever… perform anywhere outside the palace walls?”

Wang Jian’s music faltered for a moment before seamlessly recovering. “Outside the palace walls, Your Majesty?” he echoed, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Yes,” she pressed, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “Do you share your music with… others?”

He seemed to ponder for a moment, his eyes hidden in the shadows cast by his hood. “Perhaps,” he finally replied, “on rare occasions. But the palace has a certain… charm that inspires my creativity.”

A playful smile touched his lips. “Besides, Your Majesty seems to be a dedicated patron of the arts. Would I dare risk missing such a discerning audience?”

Queen Xiulan couldn’t help but return his smile. “You are a master of flattery, Wang Jian,” she teased, a lightness returning to her voice for the first time in weeks.

The night deepened, and their conversation flowed as easily as the music. They spoke of everything and nothing, their words weaving a tapestry of connection that transcended the boundaries of their respective positions.

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky, a pang of regret washed over Queen Xiulan. She had to return to her duties, leaving behind this oasis of solace and… companionship.

“I look forward to our… session tomorrow night,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Wang Jian bowed, a hint of a triumphant glint in his eyes. “And I, Your Majesty. May your dreams be filled with the music of your heart.”

Queen Xiulan turned and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. The thrill of the forbidden, the intoxicating allure of secrecy, and the growing affection she felt for this enigmatic musician – it was a potent cocktail that threatened to consume her.

Little did she know, Wang Jian was the puppeteer, orchestrating this intoxicating dance. His music, his stories, his charm – all carefully crafted weapons designed to erode her defenses and pave the way for the ultimate conquest.

~~

The days blurred into a whirlwind of music and murmured secrets. Queen Xiulan, captivated by Wang Jian’s artistry and increasingly drawn to his enigmatic presence, had him at her side throughout the day. He became her personal bard, his music filling the once-silent halls of the palace with tales of love, betrayal, and hidden desires.

The palace guards, accustomed to the Queen’s eccentricities, paid little heed to the strange musician. After all, in their eyes, he was just another artist, entertaining the Queen with his melodies. Little did they suspect the serpent slowly slithering his way into the heart of their sovereign.

One afternoon, Wang Jian sat amidst a fragrant garden, his fingers weaving intricate melodies on his guqin. Queen Xiulan, adorned in flowing silk robes that accentuated her curves, lay beneath a wisteria canopy, her eyes closed, lost in the music’s embrace.

He began to play, his fingers dancing across the strings to create a melody that spoke of a woman’s beauty, of her mesmerizing presence. “Your Majesty,” he began, his voice a husky murmur, “your eyes shine like the twilight sky, and your smile rivals the blossoming cherry tree.”

Queen Xiulan blushed, a rare and captivating sight. “You are too kind, Wang Jian,” she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper.

He continued, weaving a series of poems into his music, each one extolling her beauty, her grace, and the undeniable allure that emanated from her. The more he sang, the more Queen Xiulan felt a sense of… validation.

He finished his performance with a flourish, a gentle smile playing on his lips. As silence descended, Queen Xiulan cleared her throat. “That… was beautiful,” she admitted, her gaze meeting his.

Wang Jian bowed slightly. “Any attempt to capture your essence in music is a mere imitation, Your Majesty,” he replied smoothly.

A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the gentle splashing of the koi fish. Then, as if on a whim, Wang Jian spoke up. “Tell me, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice tinged with curiosity, “does King Mo Tianyang treat you… well?”

Queen Xiulan raised an eyebrow. “Of course he does,” she replied, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. “He respects my wishes and gives me permission to pursue my interests. ”

Wang Jian shook his head, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. “That’s… unfortunate,” he murmured.

“Unfortunate?” Queen Xiulan echoed, her brow furrowed. “Why would you say that?”

He leaned closer, his voice now a low whisper. “Because, Your Majesty,” he said, his gaze locking onto hers, “you shouldn’t need permission from anyone. You are the Queen, the ruler of the Blue Moon Eclipse Devil Tribe. You should have the power to do whatever you desire.”

Queen Xiulan scoffed, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “That’s quite a radical notion, Wang Jian.”

He held her gaze, a subtle fire burning in his eyes. “Is it, Your Majesty? Or is it simply the truth? Does your husband truly trust you? Or does he keep you on a leash, a beautiful creature to be admired but not truly unleashed?”

Queen Xiulan felt a flicker of unease. No one had ever spoken to her like this before. Yet, his words resonated with a deep-

seated longing she hadn’t acknowledged before.

Seeing her reaction, Wang Jian pressed further. “Tell me about him, Your Majesty. About King Mo Tianyang.”

Queen Xiulan hesitated, then began to speak about her husband, mentioning his strengths, his dedication to the tribe, and the respect he showed her. But Wang Jian, with a subtle twist of words and a hint of skepticism, twisted her words, painting a picture of a controlling husband who withheld his trust and freedom from her.

He spoke of subtle gestures that could be interpreted as signs of distrust, of decisions made without her consultation, of moments when he seemed distant or preoccupied.

With each comment, Queen Xiulan felt a seed of doubt take root, fueled by the lingering resentment over the King’s supposed infidelity.

By the time the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the palace gardens, Queen Xiulan was a woman in turmoil. Her initial affection for Wang Jian had morphed into something more complex – a mixture of desire, defiance, and a growing resentment towards her husband.

“Perhaps,” Wang Jian said, his voice a low murmur, “it’s time you stopped seeking permission and started taking what you deserve.”

Queen Xiulan’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering within them. “What are you suggesting, Wang Jian?” she asked, her voice laced with a newfound edge.

He smiled, a sly glint in his eyes. “That, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “is a conversation for another night.”

With that, he bowed and slipped away, leaving Queen Xiulan alone with the echoes of his words and the storm brewing within her heart. The seeds of manipulation had taken root in her heart.

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