The youth had clearly misunderstood something.
Xue Yunyi frowned to herself. It was all Wu Hanyu’s fault. Why on earth had he sent over these things? He was just creating needless trouble for her.
She gave a light cough, carefully choosing her words in an attempt to explain. But her silence had evidently stretched on too long. The youth, still kneeling with his head bowed, assumed she was rejecting his foolishly presumptuous request. His slender frame trembled as he prostrated himself fully on the ground. In a panic, he stammered out an apology. “I’m sorry, Base Slave shouldn’t have spoiled your mood. You—you can use Base Slave whenever you wish.”
His body was currently covered in scabs, hideous from head to toe, without a single patch of skin that could bear looking at. That was why he had begged Xue Yunyi for just one more day—perhaps by tomorrow, his wounds would have healed a little, enough to make him at least somewhat more presentable than he was now.
But when had a matter like this ever been his to decide?
His hand instinctively drifted toward his waist, intending to untie the belt that cinched his slim frame. Yet it hesitated there, frozen in place.
Wu Lang clearly remembered the last time he had done this. Not only had Xue Yunyi refrained from touching him, but she had ordered him to dress himself quickly. At the thought, he suddenly didn’t dare move another inch. Instead, he lifted his damp, glistening eyes to gaze at Xue Yunyi, waiting silently for her command.
The words she had yet to voice caught in her throat, turning into an almost imperceptible sigh.
Xue Yunyi had no idea what wild thoughts had raced through the youth’s mind in that brief instant. No doubt it was all the handiwork of her ruthless imperial sister. She didn’t want to dwell on how, back in the reeking horse stable of Ninghua Palace, the youth had been forced—step by step—to learn to read faces, to endure in silence, to constantly scheme how to appear more docile, more obedient, all in hopes of earning a scrap of mercy and sparing himself a little rebuke or punishment.
She took a deep breath and suppressed it, then dismissed the palace maids attending in the hall. In the now-silent bedchamber, only she and Wu Lang remained.
“This Palace isn’t going to…” Xue Yunyi paused. “This Palace summoned you here simply to explain the rules of this place.”
Seeing that she apparently had no intention of using him just yet, Wu Lang let out a breath of relief. He quickly straightened his kneeling posture, clasping his hands behind his back and lowering his gaze. In a hoarse voice, he said, “Base Slave respectfully awaits Your Highness’s instruction.”
“…Get up first. Then we can talk.”
“Base Slave dares not.”
There was pure terror in the youth’s low, raspy tones.
Xue Yunyi felt helpless. She turned sideways and pulled a thin blanket from the nearby divan—the one she used to cover her legs on cold days. She folded it a few times and placed it in front of Wu Lang’s knees.
“Kneel on this,” she said softly. “Your knees were just bandaged. Don’t hurt them again.”
Wu Lang froze for a moment, then lifted his face in shocked gratitude. Back in Ninghua Palace, every noon, Xue Qingzhi would have him dragged to her bedchamber to “teach him the rules,” claiming he wasn’t obedient enough. Not only did he have to kneel while listening to her lectures, but he also had to repeat—word for word—the absurd regulations she made up on the spot. A single wrong syllable meant a slap across the mouth or a strike from the ruler.
The sandalwood floorboards were cold and unyielding. A session could last one or two hours. By the time he returned to the stable and lifted his robes, his knees would be swollen high like risen steamed buns.
But now, the soft wool blanket was thick and warm. Wu Lang knelt upon it, his entire body rigid with tension. He kept his head down, staring anxiously at his knees, terrified they might start bleeding again and stain this noble, exquisite blanket.
Xue Yunyi took a sip of tea and spoke softly. “This Palace has only three rules here. Remember them well.”
“Yes,” Wu Lang replied at once.
“First: from now on, you are not to refer to yourself as Base Slave.”
Meeting the youth’s bewildered gaze, Xue Yunyi paused, then deliberately hardened her expression. “This Palace finds it irritating.”
At that, the youth nodded vigorously. “Yes… Slave understands.”
“Second: if you need to use the lavatory, just call for Zhao Xi to take you. No need to report it to This Palace.”
Wu Lang understood at once. The Eldest Princess must fear he couldn’t control himself and would soil the pristine bedding. But he wouldn’t dare. After his last trip to the lavatory, he had quietly reinserted that pearl thin clasp. That way, even in the haze of sleep, he wouldn’t have to worry about making a mistake.
Someone as lowly as him—how could he keep troubling others to serve him? Once a day of relief was more than enough.
“Third: eat your meals properly and get at least four hours of sleep each day,” Xue Yunyi continued.
These were Judge Wu’s instructions. With ample rest, his body would recover more quickly.
“Yes.”
Wu Lang answered without thinking. Only after a moment of silence did realization dawn on him. Were these… truly the Eldest Princess’s rules?
They seemed utterly unlike the ones he had learned before.
“Have you memorized them all?” Xue Yunyi asked.
Snapping out of his daze, Wu Lang hurriedly prostrated himself and kowtowed to her. “Slave has memorized them. Thank you, Your Highness, for your gracious instruction.”
He licked his tense, parched lips and murmured, “If Your Highness has no further orders, Slave will take his leave.”
“Wait—one more thing.” Xue Yunyi pointed to the vanity beside the curio shelf. In a gentle tone, she said, “There’s a soft tape measure next to the copper mirror. Fetch it. This robe doesn’t fit you properly. We need to take your measurements accurately so the Brocade Weaving Bureau can make you a new one.”
Wu Lang blinked in astonishment, then shook his head emphatically. “No, no need. This robe is already fine…”
Xue Yunyi’s face darkened. “Not obeying now, are you?”
The tactic worked instantly. The youth hunched his shoulders and didn’t dare utter another word of protest. He turned and shuffled on his knees to the vanity, carefully located the soft tape measure, and presented it to Xue Yunyi before lowering his eyes once more to await her orders.
Xue Yunyi sighed.
“If you don’t stand up, how is This Palace supposed to take your measurements?”
This time, Wu Lang had no choice but to rise—even though his heart pounded with fear. He was quite tall, and with the Eldest Princess seated in her wheelchair, she now had to crane her neck to look up at him. Yet her gaze remained so calm and steady, as if this weren’t an offense at all.
He quickly averted his eyes and turned his back to her, hoping the gesture would offer some illusion of comfort.
“Raise your arm a bit higher,” Xue Yunyi instructed.
“Yes.”
Wu Lang obediently lifted his arm.
The oversized sleeve slipped down, making his wrist appear even more delicate.
She measured his arm, his neck, his back—
And then that slender waist.
The robe was hopelessly ill-fitting, baggy everywhere, with no clear line at the waist. Xue Yunyi had to lean forward, using her hand to gauge it.
Suddenly, the fabric was pressed tight against his skin by her warm palm. It moved with a gentle, exploratory touch.
Wu Lang went rigid in an instant. Blood roared through his veins, his heart hammering uncontrollably—thump, thump—as it struggled basely within his chest.
“Come a little closer.”
Xue Yunyi placed a hand on him and drew him toward her. He was standing too far away; it took considerable effort for her to reach.
Wu Lang’s throat bobbed. He took a cautious step back. Then another. Until he felt his heel press against something soft—
The Eldest Princess’s Shu brocade embroidered shoe, resting on the footstool.
He stopped, his ears burning red, his breathing ragged. In despair, he squeezed his eyes shut. After all those days dosed with Xue Qingzhi’s bizarre drugs, his body had long since been ruined. The slightest touch was enough to torment him to the point of breakdown and pleas for mercy.
Habitually, Wu Lang dug his nails into his palm, seeking relief in the familiar pain. But with the realization that it was the Eldest Princess’s warm, soft hands touching him now, that heat refused to be quelled. If anything, it burned fiercer.
Sensing how violently the youth was trembling, Xue Yunyi unconsciously quickened her movements. In her haste, her fingertip brushed against something scalding hot.
She froze. Then she realized the source, and her own face flushed crimson.
“You—”
She blurted it out without thinking. But those few short words were like the final straw for the youth.
“I’m sorry. Slave deserves to die.”
The instant he heard her voice, Wu Lang dropped to his knees. Only then did Xue Yunyi notice the unnatural flush staining his face, the damp red at the corners of his eyes that spread to his ears—a picture of someone desperately holding himself back.
“Slave—Slave didn’t mean to offend Your Highness,” he explained in a frantic, helpless ramble, barely coherent. “Slave wouldn’t dare be like this in front of Your Highness…”
Wu Lang had no idea what was wrong with him today. Back when he was with Xue Qingzhi, even after an extra bowl of aphrodisiac, he had only ever felt discomfort—which he could grit through with pain alone. That was why he so often clawed his palms until they were shredded, the lines blurred beyond recognition.
But just now… it was the first time it had ever been like this.
He bit his lip, inwardly cursing himself as utterly depraved. To get aroused over something as simple as being measured.
With that thought, tears spilled from his eyes without control.
“Slave won’t dare again. Please forgive Slave,” he pleaded in a trembling voice. Clear tears traced silently down his cheeks, pooling on his pale lower lip, trembling on the verge of falling. “Punish Slave, or—or cut off Slave’s filthy root. That way, Slave won’t make mistakes anymore…”
In his panic, he racked his brain for any way to earn Xue Yunyi’s pardon for his inexcusable reaction. He would do anything—even if it meant being locked in the dark chamber for reflection again.
Silence enveloped them, broken only by the youth’s stifled sobs, each one tugging at Xue Yunyi’s heart.
He looked beautiful when he cried.
Tears streamed down her clear, cold face, the corners of her eyes reddened, silently alluring. She looked… like someone you just wanted to bully.
But the words spilling from that mouth made it impossible for Xue Yunyi to keep listening.
She let out a deep sigh. This wasn’t really such a grave matter—everyone harbored desires, so what crime had he committed? Begging for punishment was one thing, but he’d even taken the initiative to ask her to sever his manhood…
“If… if you find it dirty, this slave can handle it himself. I won’t sully your eyes…”
The youth continued his halting pleas.
Xue Yunyi’s chest tightened with discomfort, as if a needle had stabbed her heart, leaving her throat constricted. She had no idea how to soothe the fragile boy before her. All she wanted was to silence that mouth as quickly as possible. She couldn’t bear to hear another word of such self-debasement.
Did he even realize how much her heart ached?
Xue Yunyi bent down and pinched Wu Lang’s slender jaw. The youth went rigid in an instant, his dilated pupils reflecting her refined features.
She kissed him.
The taste of his tears lingered between their lips and teeth—salty and bitter.