Futile Devices Scans

Upon hearing this, Ning Xuan could not help but roll his eyes at Qing Zhu.

“A friend I only just met gave it to me—said it was a reward from his master.”

Qing Zhu could not help but feel puzzled. Since when had this boy quietly befriended someone of such standing? Pastries of such refinement—both in color and fragrance—were certainly not something an ordinary attendant could obtain. Even if they slipped into the rear kitchen, they would not dare touch such things.

Even among masters, there existed ranks—clear divisions of high and low that could not be compared in the same breath. Though Qing Zhu had only served briefly in the east wing, he knew that those who could enjoy such delicacies were few indeed.

Though the ingredients themselves were not rare—perhaps even ordinary—the craftsmanship told another story entirely. Every servant in the east and west wings knew: whoever could serve under such a master would rather be beaten to death than leave.

“What friend? What does he do?” Qing Zhu asked, unusually vigilant.

His sudden seriousness left Mo Qi frozen mid-motion, holding a piece of osmanthus cassia cake, unsure whether to lift it or set it down.

“A guard, a courtyard protector. His name is Yi Hua,” Ning Xuan replied indifferently.

Yet Ning Xuan’s calm indifference did nothing to reassure the two. As if struck by lightning, they hastily set down the pastries in their hands. They dared not throw them away, yet after placing them respectfully on the table, they retreated as though avoiding some virulent plague.

Ning Xuan frowned in confusion. Just moments ago, the two had been eager, ready to eat—why now did they suddenly act like tireless workers, busily attending to their chores?

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you eating?” Ning Xuan asked.

“Heh… nothing. We ate too much last night—our stomachs… haven’t quite digested yet,” Qing Zhu said, his movements even more brisk than usual.

What kind of situation is this?

Ning Xuan muttered inwardly, though he had little time to dwell on it. His thoughts remained tangled in annoyance at his own earlier lapse of composure.

Meanwhile, Qing Zhu and Mo Qi worked with trembling caution. After all, who in the realm did not know the name of the Fifth Prince, Prince Rong—Feng Xuanyi, courtesy name Yi Hua…

Yet since the person involved himself acted as though nothing was amiss, how could mere servants dare speak out of turn? Better to remain obedient and keep to their place.

…

Still dazed from that kiss, Ning Xuan spent the entire day in a wandering haze. He could not focus on his work, nor did he have any appetite. Even those pastries—once so enticing in color, fragrance, and taste—now seemed difficult to swallow.

He had intended to bring them back and share with Qing Zhu and Mo Qi, yet both avoided them as if they were plague-stricken, even offering the same absurd excuse—that they had overeaten the night before.

For young attendants like them, merely being full was already a blessing—what talk was there of overeating?

At the thought, Ning Xuan could not help but laugh bitterly. Could it be that Yi Hua’s ill-fated aura was so overwhelming that even those who had never met him were frightened into retreat? Perhaps only someone as slow-witted as myself would remain so oblivious…

He wiped the bookshelves in fits and starts—wipe, pause, wipe again—scratching his head one moment, sighing the next. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, he had not even properly finished cleaning a single shelf.

Though the Library Pavilion of the Prince’s manor was not grand beyond compare, nor its collection unmatched in all history, it was still vast enough that from the doorway, one could not see its end.

Ning Xuan had expected mockery, yet Qing Zhu and Mo Qi said nothing. Instead, they even helped share his burden. Deeply moved, Ning Xuan was nearly brought to tears, praising them endlessly as brothers and comrades.

“Dang—dang—dang—! Pa—pa—pa—!”

“Dry air, beware of fire~!”

The servants’ quarters were built deep within the inner courtyard, extending all the way to the rear gate. Beyond a single wall lay the streets of the imperial capital, and at night, even the watchman’s calls could be heard clearly.

Curled beneath his blankets, Ning Xuan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. His mind replayed the events of the past few days again and again.

He had only just come to accept a world where love made no distinction between man and woman—only to be forced to witness a live “spring palace”. Then, inexplicably, he had spent a midnight in the Library Pavilion discussing, in both theory and practice, the so-called arts of the bedchamber.

Before he could process any of that, the man’s kisses came—overwhelming, relentless, again and again.

And worst of all—he had not felt much resistance. By the second time, he had already been left dizzy, almost floating as though intoxicated.

As if startled awake from a nightmare, Ning Xuan suddenly sat upright, cold sweat soaking his temples.

A fleeting brush like dragonfly skimming water, a probing touch that stopped just short, a soft and lingering tongue, a burning, fervent breath—

It felt as though the man’s warmth still lingered upon his lips.

Covering his face, Ning Xuan felt that astonishing heat—just like the scorching breath that had enveloped him that morning.

“Damn it! Could it be that I was born this way?!” he cursed inwardly.

“At least struggle a little! At least feel something’s off! At least feel disgusted enough to want to vomit!”

“And yet—you’re actually enjoying it?!”

Grinding his teeth, Ning Xuan lay there in the darkness, his phoenix eyes wide open, lips pursed so tightly they could hang an oil flask.

Earlier…

“Oh, right—I’m quite loyal,” Yi Hua had said, suddenly turning back before leaving. He picked up the damaged book that had been tossed aside.

“I’ll come tonight to copy it for you. But—”

He lifted his gaze, staring directly into Ning Xuan’s stunned eyes, and casually brushed his fingers across his lips.

“Remember to leave the door open for me tonight.”

With that, he tossed the book down, turned, and disappeared without looking back.

Those words still echoed in his ears.

Ning Xuan twitched at the corner of his mouth.

That fellow… surely he wouldn’t actually come to the Library Pavilion tonight?

Raising his eyes, he glanced at the waning moon hanging high in the night sky.

It’s already past midnight… Could he really be waiting outside?

Carefully climbing over Mo Qi, who slept on the outer bed, Ning Xuan quietly dressed himself, pushed open the door, and slipped outside.

I’m just hungry and going out for a midnight snack—that’s perfectly normal. I’m not going to check whether that fool is really waiting there!

Muttering to himself, he hurriedly put on his outer robe as he walked—yet the direction he took was clearly not toward the rear kitchen.

The early autumn night carried a chill in the air. For someone as sensitive to cold as Ning Xuan, the faint drowsiness he had managed to summon was instantly blown away.

Though he was doing nothing shameful, within the Prince’s manor, it was always best to avoid unnecessary trouble.

Avoiding the patrolling guards and servants, weaving through twisting paths, he finally arrived before the darkened Library Pavilion.

The night was cool as water—silent and serene. Cicadas chirped, insects sang.

But aside from that—

There was no one there.

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