After closing his eyes, Li Guangi suddenly realized that Qingchen was still there.
Qingchen had even stuck out his tongue just now!
He abruptly opened his eyes again.
Fortunately, he did so, because Chu Yunge had not intended to kiss him at all. She had merely reached behind his head to pluck a magnolia petal.
Li Guangi stared at the petal, embarrassed to the point of wishing the ground would swallow him up.
He had no idea that Chu Yunge had indeed considered kissing him, but she remembered her original purpose—and that Qingchen was still in the study.
Seeing Li Guangi’s embarrassed look, she smiled and tucked the petal behind his ear. “Don’t be disappointed. When no one’s around later, This Princess will kiss you back, just like this.”
Her voice was very soft, audible only to Li Guangi.
Li Guangi had no idea how he managed to leave; he only felt his face burning fiercely.
Chu Yunge watched him go, a smile playing on her lips, before finally turning her gaze to Qingchen.
Qingchen forced a smile. “Your Highness.”
Chu Yunge said nothing, merely looking at Qingchen. He paused for a moment, as if realizing something, and slowly moved his leg closer after pulling it away.
Then, under Chu Yunge’s surprised gaze, he placed his hand on her wrist.
In response to her raised eyebrow, he remained silent and offered no explanation—not even a casual remark like ‘better for detoxifying.’ He simply closed his eyes and began chanting sutras.
Chu Yunge did not mind in the slightest, but as she gazed at Qingchen’s slender, delicate hand, her own hand began to itch.
When Qingchen finally opened his eyes again, calm restored, Chu Yunge had just set down her brush.
The moment Qingchen opened his eyes, he saw a painting: colorless, rendered in simple black ink on white paper—a few strokes outlining the back view of a hand resting on a waist.
The hand looked familiar, especially with the small buddha beads adorning it, identical to those on Qingchen’s own hand.
Yet that hand with the buddha beads lay on a slender waist. It was just one hand and the curve of a back, but it inexplicably brimmed with erotic tension, quickening the heartbeat and parching the throat.
“Your Highness…” Qingchen instantly felt the hand gripping Chu Yunge’s wrist grow scorching hot. “You…”
“This Princess didn’t lie, did she? This Princess really does know how to paint.”
Chu Yunge was quite satisfied. “Du Ruo, have this painting mounted.”
Qingchen grew anxious at once. “Your Highness, this…”
“What? You want it?”
“No, it’s just this hand…”
“No one will think it’s yours. After all, there’s no face in it.” Chu Yunge had never painted real people before.
She excelled at drawing characters from novels and comics, mostly pure love ones, because pure love fans were the most obsessed—the ones most willing to splurge.
Her works stayed within bounds, never explicit, shadowy and vague. That haziness stirred the imagination most, brimming with sexual tension, driving viewers wild and spawning endless fantasies.
Wealthy fans would even pay thirty or fifty thousand for a single piece.
Back then, she had relied on this skill to escape her blood-sucking family and survive.
It was a reliable means of livelihood too. Who knew if she might return one day—best not let her technique grow rusty.
She looked at Qingchen. “Or would Qingchen let This Princess paint you?”
If he agreed, she would have endless inspiration. After all, a grandmaster Buddhist disciple oozed ascetic, taboo allure.
Qingchen shook his head. He could not even look straight at this one hand.
Unfazed by the refusal, Chu Yunge’s interest held, and she quickly produced a second painting.
Qingchen glanced at it, his face paling slightly.
The subject of Chu Yunge’s second painting was not him, but flowers and Li Guangi.
Qingchen quickly looked away, while Du Ruo—who had come forward to collect the painting—found herself unable to tear her eyes from it.
The painting showed no face, only a sliver of chin and a head of black hair. The youth cradled a flower; the flower was lovely, but even more captivating was his Adam’s apple, which looked inexplicably kissable.
The youth in the painting was fully clothed, nothing exposed—yet somehow, it evoked an urge to tear his garments away…
Du Ruo could not help pinching herself to snap out of it. The Princess would soon promote other maids; she could not afford such wild thoughts.
Du Ruo took the painting, but Qingchen could not resist stealing another glance. “Your Highness is in high spirits.”
“If you don’t want me reading books or painting, then tell me stories from your travels.”
Chu Yunge thought for a moment before speaking. “Tell me about other places in Chu State. I’ve never left Heavenly Prosperity City.”
She wanted to learn more about this world, and Qingchen made the perfect source.
He had wandered the outside world for ten years, traversing all of Chu State and even visiting Zhao State and Chen State. He knew the most about local customs, geography, environments, habits, food, daily life, and more.
This knowledge was far more comprehensive than what she had gleaned while standing in for the emperor—and from a different perspective.
Qingchen did not want her painting other men or reading those kinds of books, so he nodded in agreement.
Chu Yunge absorbed it all like a sponge, even scribbling strange symbols no one else could decipher.
The more she heard, the clearer it became: the civil reports in memorials were mostly superficial. Deeper reflection revealed that many policies never reached the common people.
After a lunch of fried lotus flowers and a brief rest, Qingchen never paused for breath—fortunate, given his experience chanting sutras; his throat held up fine.
In the afternoon, the two relocated to a boat and continued.
Ju An, Xie Wangze’s attendant, sought an audience, hoping Chu Yunge would put in a good word for Xie Wangze. She did not so much as furrow her brow before refusing outright.
When Ju An returned to the prison cell looking woebegone, he met Xie Wangze’s gaze with a smile more wretched than tears.
“Your Highness… Your Highness…”
Xie Wangze, clad only in his undergarments, closed his eyes briefly. “It’s my fault toward her. She was frightened—probably having nightmares tonight.”
“I knew she wouldn’t help. She resents me, and that’s only right. I sent you back just to see if she was alright.”
Brought back and subjected to interrogation, Xie Wangze had merely gone through the motions. His mind dwelled on one thing, one person—Chu Yunge.
Chu Yunge had thoroughly captivated him, filling his thoughts with her, especially after that perilous night.
Perhaps it stemmed from their intimate contact, or the guilt of nearly harming her. After hours of reflection, he had to admit it: his heart had stirred.
He had fallen for Chu Yunge.
A day earlier, anyone claiming he would fall for Chu Yunge would have earned only his scoff.
How could he possibly fall for Chu Yunge?
Yet things unfolded in wondrous ways. Even after seeing her kiss Li Guangi—knowing she had fooled around with Pei Ji and Qingchen—he still fell.
Romance, especially between man and woman, defied all logic.
It had nothing to do with good or bad. One knew full well she was no suitable match, that it made no sense—yet the heart stirred anyway.
In his years in Chu State, he had encountered every type of woman: kind and pure, glamorous and aloof, fragile yet strong, ruthless and venomous. He had seen them all—even the princess of before.
But human nature was masochistic. Ever since the princess’s temperament shifted—becoming utterly strange, ignoring him completely to focus on others and draw a line between them—he suddenly could not bear it.
He was drawn in.
Then she saved him, and much else followed.
It all happened too swiftly, too intensely—be it intimacy or guilt. His emotions surged, exposing the feelings he had buried deep, unwilling to acknowledge, and magnifying them.
He admitted it: his heart had stirred.