Hypnotic Vacancy

Lin Qingyan reached around from Gu Chengyin's side, her fingertips resting at the edge of his robe, tracing faint, idle circles there.

Her movements were so slow it seemed like she was measuring the curve of his waist with her fingertips, neither painful nor itchy, yet it sent a tingle starting from his spine.

Her lips brushed against Gu Chengyin’s earlobe as she said with a half-smile:

“I just don’t want to wake up one day and find you two really engaged.”

Engaged?

Gu Chengyin blinked.

Him and Luo Zhao?

Putting those two names together with the word “engaged” in between—

The absurdity was only slightly less than the idea of the Cui and Xiao clans forming a marriage alliance for generations.

Gu Chengyin shook his head immediately and said:

“Auntie, rest assured. I understand.”

“As for the engagement, that was only forced by circumstances at the time. It’s nothing serious.”

Lin Qingyan knew all this, of course, and she knew Gu Chengyin really had no interest in Luo Zhao.

But that didn’t stop Luo Zhao from being interested in Gu Chengyin.

Lin Qingyan knew her niece far too well.

This crown prince was just like her down to her very bones.

Never giving up until she achieved her goal, refusing to turn back even when hitting a wall.

Even if she had to knock that wall down and crawl over the rubble, she’d still get what she wanted.

So the moment the opportunity arose, Luo Zhao would strike without hesitation.

She wouldn’t care if Gu Chengyin was her aunt’s husband. She wouldn’t care about ethics, morality, or the boundaries between ruler and subject.

Better to be robbed outright than to be coveted in secret.

And even more terrifying was that Luo Zhao bore some resemblance to her.

What if, on some dark and windy night, Gu Chengyin mistook Luo Zhao for her?

It wasn’t impossible.

Lin Qingyan’s fingertip stopped its circling at Gu Chengyin’s waist.

Her brows furrowed slightly as her gaze fixed on his profile, a hint of unease flickering in her eyes.

It wasn’t distrust of Gu Chengyin—it was fear of the “what if.”

What if?

What if one day she wasn’t around, and Luo Zhao resorted to some underhanded trick?

Say what she might, she had never truly considered handing Gu Chengyin over to Luo Zhao.

Even though, before, she had entertained such thoughts.

But that was before—after having him, she had thoroughly extinguished that idea.

Lin Qingyan bit her lower lip.

She was reflecting, questioning whether it had been right to let Gu Chengyin lift the hypnosis on Luo Zhao.

She hadn’t wanted Luo Zhao to remain under Gu Chengyin’s hypnosis because she felt Luo Zhao had grown up and could no longer be treated like a puppet on strings.

She deserved the right to have her own will, to decide her own life, to live with a clear mind.

That was her duty as an aunt.

But now, Lin Qingyan suddenly wasn’t so sure.

If Luo Zhao were still hypnotized, even if it was just an act,

she would still be a quiet, obedient puppet who didn’t stir up trouble.

She wouldn’t stare at Gu Chengyin, wouldn’t scheme in her mind about how to snatch him away, wouldn’t…

Wait.

Lin Qingyan suddenly thought of something.

Her eyes narrowed, and the hand tracing circles on Gu Chengyin’s waist stopped, her fingertip pressed motionless against his side.

“Chengcheng.”

“Hmm?”

“Since you’ve lifted the hypnosis on Zhao’er…”

Lin Qingyan’s voice slowed, carrying a cautious, probing tone.

“Then… who are you planning to use it on?”

“Could it be…”

Lin Qingyan didn’t finish the sentence.

But her eyes made the rest perfectly clear.

At the same time, her fingers tightened slightly around his waist.

Though the movement was light, Gu Chengyin felt it.

It wasn’t pain—it was a declaration.

As if to say: I don’t care who you use it on, but don’t even think about using it on me, or I’ll bite you to death.

Gu Chengyin immediately straightened his expression and said with utmost seriousness:

“Auntie, what are you thinking?”

“I said I would never hypnotize you again, and I meant it.”

Lin Qingyan’s fingers loosened around his waist, but didn’t let go completely.

Gu Chengyin took the chance to counter:

“On the other hand, do you still need me to keep controlling your inner demon?”

Lin Qingyan’s expression changed.

She thought about it seriously for a while before finally shaking her head and saying:

“Better not.”

“After all… she is really suffering.”

She.

Lin Qingyan used “she,” not “I.”

In her mind, the inner demon was another person.

Someone who shared the same body, the same soul, the same memories as her.

This person was not an enemy, not an opponent.

But a sister trapped in darkness, forever tormented by pain and hatred.

“Being able to stay asleep like this is also quite good.”

Gu Chengyin said nothing comforting.

Because there was no need.

Lin Qingyan didn’t need comfort—she just needed someone to be there with her.

That was enough.

“Alright,” he said.

One word. Simple, direct, without any unnecessary embellishment.

Lin Qingyan withdrew her hand from his waist and tucked it back under the blanket.

She leaned closer to Gu Chengyin, her long hair spilling over his knees, legs, and the bed.

“Chengcheng.”

“Hmm.”

“That freed-up hypnosis slot… who are you planning to use it on?”

Lin Qingyan’s voice was muffled, like a cat purring after having its belly rubbed.

But the question itself wasn’t vague at all, knowing Gu Chengyin as she did.

The vacant hypnosis slot would definitely not be left unused.

And Gu Chengyin had indeed been pondering this very question.

It was like having a blank talisman paper in hand—it always felt a pity not to draw something on it.

But what to draw, how to draw it, and where to draw it all required careful consideration.

If truly speaking of the most suitable candidate, apart from Lin Qingyan, it would undoubtedly be Emperor Luo.

The sovereign of the Great Luo Dynasty, the one sitting on the dragon throne ruling over the world.

If he could be controlled, then the entire court, the whole realm, everything—would fall entirely into his grasp.

There would be no need to struggle with Cui Shifan, no need to scheme against the prince’s faction, no need to send his aunt to reason with anyone.

A single imperial decree would suffice.

But...

The risk was far too great.

So great that Gu Chengyin had run countless simulations in his mind, each time crashing and bleeding at the same critical juncture.

Emperor Luo was simply too unfathomable.

How many years had he sat on that dragon throne? How many court intrigues, palace coups, and power struggles had he weathered?

For a man like that, how many hidden cards he held was anyone’s guess.

Gu Chengyin absolutely refused to believe that such a person lacked any magical artifacts or immortal devices to guard against soul control.

After all, he was a mighty emperor, married to someone like Empress Lin.

Could it be that he had no defensive measures?

With Emperor Luo placing so many layers of protection around Luo Zhao, would he not have similar safeguards for himself?

The moment he attempted to hypnotize Emperor Luo, he would likely be struck down by some unknown backlash before he could even retreat alive from the palace.

Heroes under heaven were as numerous as fish in a river.

And Emperor Luo was the dragon soaring high above, looking down upon those very fish.

Gu Chengyin shook his head inwardly.

Sending Lin Qingyan to “reason with them” was still the most suitable plan.

But leaving the hypnosis slot empty was not a solution.

Sooner or later, he had to make use of it.

Just then.

A small figure surfaced in Gu Chengyin’s mind.

Gu Xiaoli.