The hall fell silent for a moment.
The dim yellow candlelight seemed to flicker in time with Xue Yunyi’s breathing.
A face so coldly ethereal was now meekly kneeling before her, willing to serve as a vessel she could use at her whim.
Xue Yunyi felt a faint, almost imperceptible warmth rise to her cheeks, but she had no time to dwell on it. After a brief hesitation, she silently assented to Wu Lang’s plea and leaned toward him.
A fragrant shadow fell across his face. The youth’s thick raven lashes trembled, and then he obediently tilted his chin higher, parting his thin lips a little more.
A slight dip of her head, and the Eldest Princess’s lips would cover his. But she maintained a proper distance, parting her own lips to let the thick, bitter medicine trickle into his mouth without touching him.
The medicinal liquid spilled crookedly, dripping messily onto Wu Lang’s lip corners and tongue.
The Eldest Princess leaned in very close—so close that he could feel the scalding heat of her feverish breath brushing his nose, cheeks, and earlobes. Everywhere flushed deep red, and his heart pounded like thunderous drums, each beat louder than the last.
The bitterness of the White Xianzi flooded in. Wu Lang instinctively furrowed his brow but didn’t dare slack off. His slender neck tensed straight, his Adam’s apple bobbing relentlessly—glug, glug—as he docilely swallowed. He even forced the crease from between his brows, unwilling to let the Eldest Princess see even a hint of discomfort on his face.
Fearing he might choke, Xue Yunyi deliberately slowed her pace, only parting her teeth again to continue once he’d swallowed the pooled medicine in his mouth.
The thin stream flowed in fits and starts, the watery sounds muffled and intimate.
In the utter silence, they seemed amplified a thousandfold, leaving Xue Yunyi somewhat uneasy.
In a moment of distraction, a splash of medicine spilled onto Wu Lang’s jaw. The dark brown stain raced along the smooth lines of the youth’s neck.
Wu Lang panicked, his gaze fixed tightly on her slightly parting lips, trying to catch the errant trickle. But just then, Xue Yunyi suddenly leaned closer, erasing that delicate distance. Their breaths tangled in disarray.
Wu Lang froze, not daring to move. An obedient vessel had no right to any extraneous actions without its user’s permission.
Xue Yunyi also blanked for an instant. She’d only shifted forward to keep the medicine from staining his clean clothes, never expecting to press straight against his lips.
Warm, cool, and soft.
…Very kissable.
She paused for a breath, then simply gave in, lightly capturing the youth’s lovely lip with her own and passing the remaining medicine into his mouth.
“Mm…”
The youth let out a beautiful whimper.
Xue Yunyi patiently waited for him to swallow the last of it before asking, “Is it bitter?”
Wu Lang’s breathing was unsteady. He coughed fiercely a few times before hurriedly lifting his blood-red face and shaking his head at her.
He pressed his lips together, licking up the medicine there, then fixed his damp black eyes on her. Under her gaze, he extended his glistening tongue tip and slowly licked away every trace of the mess at the corner of his mouth.
Xue Yunyi’s heart skipped a beat.
The candle flame flickered, casting a hazy glow over the youth’s features. The bruises from the slaps had faded, and his once-gaunt cheeks had filled out. Unknowingly, she’d nurtured him well; he was growing more handsome by the day. If he walked down the main street, countless girls would turn to stare.
Yet those beautiful black eyes brimmed entirely with her reflection, leaving no room for anything else.
She watched as Wu Lang silently reached out, wiping the stain from his neck. His knuckles pressed over his Adam’s apple, sliding upward until they paused at his lips.
From start to finish, the youth’s gaze stayed cautiously on her face, searching her expression to see if his actions were permitted.
Her “reward”—he’d cleaned up every last drop.
Xue Yunyi drew a deep breath, suppressing it.
He wasn’t doing it on purpose; he simply had no idea how alluring he was.
“Thank you for Your Highness’s gracious reward. This slave… likes it very much,” the youth rasped.
Likes it.
The medicine was so bitter, yet he said he liked it.
Perhaps the days of fever had muddled her mind—or maybe she was perfectly clear. Xue Yunyi no longer cared. She leaned down and kissed that thin lip, smeared messy with medicine.
Wu Lang went dazed. The Eldest Princess’s breath was scorching, branding him. Only after a long moment, amid his thundering heartbeat, did he realize this was a kiss.
Utterly different from that day in the bedchamber, when the Eldest Princess had given him a fleeting peck, light as a dragonfly skimming water, just to silence his crying.
But now, her palm stroked his trembling nape, cradling his cheek. Her soft, plump lips ground tenderly against his corner, her teeth nipping at the wet, medicine-tainted softness inside his mouth. She wanted him to continue, to respond, to take pleasure in it.
The youth felt happiness so intense it bordered on dizziness.
His body seemed sunk in a hot spring, steaming warmth melting even his bones. Emboldened, he knelt onto the footstool by the bed to spare her effort, but his hands remained clasped tightly behind his back, fingers clenched in tension, not daring any overstep.
“How are you so obedient?”
Amid their entwined breaths, he heard the Eldest Princess murmur, like a sigh.
The youth’s lashes fluttered. In a small, timid voice, he asked, “Do… you like it?”
The Eldest Princess didn’t answer. She simply ruffled his hair and kissed him again, swallowing his clumsy, earnest overtures between her lips, allowing only fragmented, trembling whimpers.
Only when Mo Ying’s footsteps sounded from the outer chamber did Xue Yunyi release him. She watched as the youth knelt back on the floor, face flushed crimson, eyes darting down in flustered panic, his cool black gaze filled with bewilderment.
She curved her lips and fetched a handkerchief from under the pillow, handing it to him. The youth murmured his thanks, clutching the snowy silk square in his palm but hesitating to wipe away the traces on his lips.
“Mo Ying, fetch some cherry preserves,” Xue Yunyi called out.
Mo Ying crisply assented and set the steaming bowl of minced meat porridge on the table before turning to leave. Soon, she returned with a dish of vibrant cherry preserves.
Xue Yunyi selected a fine-looking piece and held it out to Wu Lang first. He’d just swallowed such a large mouthful of medicine; his throat must be bitterly parched. This would help settle it.
“Thank you for the reward, Your Highness.”
Wu Lang hesitated, then parted his teeth and carefully took the sugar-frosted cherry preserve. He chewed and swallowed swiftly, then leaned forward to lick the thin smear of sugar from her fingers clean.
Mo Ying blinked twice and tactfully withdrew to the side.
“Your Highness, have a few more pieces, or the medicine’s taste won’t fade,” the youth said softly as he served her.
Xue Yunyi recalled the medicine’s flavor and ate three pieces in a row. Only when her mouth was filled with the cloying sweetness did she reach for the medicine bowl. Even so, she grimaced at the bitterness, downing it in one go before finishing off the rest of the preserves to finally banish the taste.
Wu Lang was already holding the porridge bowl in both hands, offering it to her. “Have some porridge before sleeping, Your Highness. It’ll settle your stomach.”
The aroma of food made Xue Yunyi’s stomach lurch again. She turned her face away with a frown and waved him off. “This Palace has no appetite. Set it aside to cool for now.”
Wu Lang paused, then ventured, “This slave will blow it cool for you. Please have a little? You haven’t eaten in nearly two days… This slave is very worried.”
With that, he scooped up a spoonful with the silver spoon, blew it meticulously to warm it just right, and held it to her lips, gazing at her pleadingly.
She said nothing, but he kept holding it steady, as if he felt no fatigue.
Xue Yunyi sighed and finally leaned over, taking a sip from the spoon in his hand.
Not too hot, not too cold—the perfect temperature for swallowing. The warmth flowed into her stomach, easing it considerably.
Seeing no resistance, Wu Lang’s eyes lit up. He hurriedly blew spoonful after spoonful to the ideal warmth and fed them to her, saying nothing of how the hand cradling the bowl had reddened from the heat.
Xue Yunyi was feverish and muddle-headed, not noticing at first. It was only after finishing the bowl that she saw the youth quietly rubbing his flushed palm.
She frowned, but before she could reproach him, he bowed obediently. “Now that Miss Mo Ying has returned, this slave will take his leave. Rest well, Your Highness. This slave will pay respects tomorrow.”
He remembered her words well, not presuming on that scrap of favor to beg to stay and serve her.
His propriety was impeccable, leaving Xue Yunyi at a loss for words. Wu Lang kept his head lowered as he rose, bowed respectfully once more, then turned and walked slowly toward the hall doors.
Night wind slipped through the gaps in the carved windows, carrying a heavy dampness as it whistled mournfully into the hall.
Rain had begun falling outside, unbeknownst to them.
He had just crossed the threshold when a gust tore through, rattling the doors and frames. Even the candles in the hall swayed and flickered out.
Wu Lang halted abruptly.
Familiar darkness enveloped him, a chill creeping silently up his spine. In that instant, overwhelming terror blanked his mind, plunging him back into that dark chamber in Ninghua Palace. His lips had turned blue with cold as he lay there barely alive, curled in the dank corner, starving and scraping by like the lowliest insect.
Wu Lang drew a deep breath, fighting to suppress the fear clawing at his heart, and took a step forward.
He wasn’t permitted to stay here.
He had to leave.
In the pitch blackness, Xue Yunyi groped her way to the bedside and fumbled for the snuffed-out white candle. Mo Ying quickly relit it, and the feeble flame cast faint reflections of rain-streaked window paper.
Xue Yunyi glanced at the inky sky beyond the window, a flicker of hesitation in her heart. Wu Lang’s side room wasn’t far from her bedchamber, but making the trek back now would leave him soaked to the bone and chilled through.
The rain pattered densely, heavy with humid warmth.
Unbidden, the memory surfaced of that drenched kiss moments before.
After a long moment, she turned her face toward the shadowed silhouette of the youth.
Wu Lang clutched the edge of the low table, breath held, drenched in cold sweat.
He feared the dark, feared any place devoid of light. He wondered if he was ill— the doors to the hall lay straight ahead, yet he felt pinned in place, utterly unable to budge.
Until a gentle voice softly called his name.
“Wu Lang.”
“It’s raining outside. Stay here with This Palace tonight.”