When the study finally came into sight, Ning Xuan was so moved that tears nearly filled his eyes. Never had he imagined that a room so unfamiliar—one he had never dared approach—could appear so intimate and inspire such a powerful sense of belonging.
His hands trembled with emotion as he pushed open the door. He completely forgot every rule of etiquette. Without announcing himself or knocking, he simply entered and carefully placed the cup upon the desk. Only then did his heart settle. He released a long breath, and his eyes, which had become stiff from staring at the cup, finally regained their freedom. His dark pupils immediately darted around the room. Once again, he felt that his previous amazement had been embarrassingly premature. A mere servant’s side room beside the bedchamber had already astonished him. This chamber, which seemed almost gilded and silver-plated while maintaining a restrained, antique elegance and compact magnificence, nearly made Ning Xuan’s eyes fall from their sockets.
His gaze landed upon the man who was also inside the room and had somehow appeared behind him without his noticing. Ning Xuan froze. The man leaned against the doorframe, his eyes half narrowed and his lips curved in an ambiguous smile. His left hand cradled his right elbow, while his right hand idly twisted a strand of black hair before releasing it and twisting it again. Who could it be but Yihua?
Remembering how cautiously and anxiously he had rushed there, then seeing Yihua’s leisurely, completely relaxed appearance, Ning Xuan frowned. No wonder the man received so many rewards. It turned out he was one of Prince Rong’s personal guards. Ning Xuan had mistakenly believed him to be an ordinary courtyard guard. One truly could not judge a person by appearances.
“Why are you standing here like a pole?” Ning Xuan approached with obvious delight at the prospect of someone else’s misfortune. Remembering everything that had happened at noon, he raised his hand and sharply flicked Yihua’s forehead, returning the knock he had received earlier. “I heard the master went hunting. As his personal guard, shouldn’t you have accompanied him? Be careful. If you fail to serve him properly, he may make you suffer the consequences.”
Yihua stared blankly and raised a hand to touch his reddened forehead. For a long while, he remained silent as though he had suffered some enormous shock.
Ning Xuan’s smile widened. Assuming his words had struck the truth and frightened Yihua speechless, he cheerfully waved a hand before the man’s eyes. “Aren’t you usually so eloquent? Why aren’t you saying anything now? Pretending to be mute?”
Yihua abruptly caught the restless hand waving before him. Although some focus returned to his dark eyes, his expression remained unpleasant. He pointed incredulously toward himself. “I’m a guard? His personal guard?”
“Did I guess incorrectly?” Ning Xuan stuck out his tongue in embarrassment. “At first, I thought you were merely a courtyard guard. But judging by your behavior these past few days, you have plenty of opportunities to receive rewards from the prince, you can enter and leave the study whenever you please, and you dress like a martial artist. So…” He looked humbly toward Yihua, seeking instruction. “What position do you actually hold?”
A trace of helplessness seemed to flash across Yihua’s face, but his expression soon recovered, and his tone became considerably smoother. “No, your guess was quite accurate. I was simply curious how you worked it out.”
Ning Xuan smiled proudly and tried to withdraw the arm Yihua held, but Yihua secretly tightened his grip and prevented him from succeeding.
Yihua held his wrist gently and slowly, yet with a strength that permitted no resistance, gradually drawing them closer. Ning Xuan was confused. Yihua was somewhat taller than him, but his body was not broad and powerful like that of an ordinary martial artist. Instead, he was tall, slender, and relatively lean. Although he did not look so frail that a breeze might knock him over, Ning Xuan had never imagined he possessed such strength.
As the distance between them steadily narrowed, Ning Xuan could clearly feel Yihua’s breath mingling with his own. He caught the man’s clean, elegant scent, one still unmistakably masculine. Ning Xuan’s face instantly reddened. They had known each other only briefly, yet memories of their repeated physical contact surged through him like a spring—Yihua’s lips, his tongue, the pressure of his kisses, the warmth of his embrace, and the scorching heat of his palms. Ning Xuan saw his own reflection within those dark pupils and watched the handsome face steadily enlarge before him. Everything felt like a poison that left him dazed and intoxicated, staining Ning Xuan’s face red, then his eyes, and finally his heart.
Just as their lips were about to meet, separated by no more than the thickness of a fingernail, Yihua stopped. Laughter glimmered at the corners of his eyes as he looked at Ning Xuan, who had already become dizzy and limp within his arms. Yihua released a low chuckle, turned his face aside to avoid those enticing red lips, and leaned toward Ning Xuan’s ear. He gently breathed against the sensitive curve and watched with satisfaction as the pale skin from his ear to the side of his neck instantly flushed crimson. Without warning, Yihua lightly bit his full earlobe. Feeling the body in his arms tremble uncontrollably, he laughed softly. “So adorable.”
Ning Xuan shuddered violently. That deep, pleasing voice scratched lightly across his heart like a cat’s paw, but it also brought him instantly back to his senses. He forcefully threw off Yihua’s arm and retreated five consecutive steps, pointing at him with a violently trembling hand. “Y-you! This is the study—Prince Rong’s study! You may not care whether you live, but I do!”
Yihua shrugged unconcernedly and rested one hand upon a colored-glaze porcelain vase displayed beside the door. “The prince isn’t here at the moment.”
Damn it! And that gives you the right to toy with me however you please?!
Remembering how this man had disturbed his thoughts and how much Ning Xuan had cared about his every word and action, Ning Xuan ground his teeth in fury. He turned his head away and respectfully stood to the side, waiting to serve when Prince Rong returned.
Yihua appeared to be leisurely stroking the glazed vase, but in reality, he closely observed Ning Xuan’s every movement. Seeing Ning Xuan pout unhappily yet remain trapped beneath the same roof because of his duties, frowning as he lowered his gaze and played with his fingers, Yihua found him immensely amusing. He strolled forward, picked up the cup of tea upon the desk—which had now cooled to approximately eight parts hot—and used the gold-edged porcelain lid to brush aside several leaves floating upon the surface. After taking a small sip, he sighed. “Excellent tea.”
Ning Xuan did not stop him. He merely cast him a cold glance and smiled. “That tea belongs to Prince Rong. Don’t say I failed to warn you. If he holds you responsible, don’t drag me down with you.”
Yihua remained entirely unconcerned. He paced leisurely toward the cushioned chair behind the desk, sat down with his legs crossed, leaned against the soft pillow, and inhaled the tea’s fragrance. “The prince is discussing matters with Prince Yu in the front hall. He probably won’t return for some time. It doesn’t matter.”
“The Eighth Prince, Prince Yu?” Ning Xuan murmured softly. While living with Mo Qi and Qing Zhu, he had learned a little about the politics of this dynasty. The Eighth Prince, Prince Yu, and the Fifth Prince, Prince Rong, belonged to the same faction and opposed the Crown Prince. Prince Yu had not been born to a particularly noble mother. Her rank had been low, and she died during childbirth, after which he was raised beside the empress. A child in such circumstances was ordinarily the easiest target for contempt and bullying within the palace. Yet Heaven had favored him. Since childhood, the Eighth Prince had shown little talent for the qin, chess, calligraphy, or painting, but he adored riding, archery, and hunting. His martial ability was also the finest among the imperial princes. He had only recently come of age when the emperor entrusted him with the important task of leading troops into battle, granted him the rank of prince, and awarded him a general’s title. “Didn’t he only just depart on a western campaign with Marquis Dingbei, General Nalan? He has returned already?”
At those words, Yihua’s dark eyes, hazy beneath the rising steam, narrowed almost imperceptibly, though nothing unusual could be heard in his voice. “I wouldn’t have expected someone so young, who spends every day confined inside the residence, to know so much.”
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