Seeing that the study was finally within reach, Ning Xuan was so moved he nearly wept tears of gratitude. Never before had he felt that such a place—one so unfamiliar, one he had never even dared approach—could appear so welcoming, so imbued with a sense of belonging.
Trembling with emotion, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. All notions of etiquette were utterly forgotten—no announcement, no knocking. He simply entered. Carefully, he placed the teacup upon the desk, and only then did his heart finally settle. Letting out a long breath, his eyes—stiff from staring fixedly at the cup—regained their freedom, his dark pupils darting about as he took in his surroundings.
Almost immediately, he felt his earlier sentiment had been misplaced.
If even the modest side chamber of the bedchamber courtyard had already made him tense, then what of this place? The study was adorned as though gilded in gold and plated in silver, yet its splendor was restrained—exuding an understated elegance of antiquity, refined and noble in every detail.
The sight left Ning Xuan staring wide-eyed, as though his eyeballs might fall from their sockets.
Then—
His gaze landed upon the man standing within the room.
At some point, the man had appeared silently behind him.
Ning Xuan froze.
Half-lidded eyes, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips—neither quite a smile nor not. Leaning casually against the doorframe, his left hand supporting his right elbow, his right hand idly twirling a strand of black hair before his chest—who else could it be, if not Yi Hua?
Recalling his own earlier state—so cautious, so on edge—and comparing it to Yi Hua’s utterly relaxed and leisurely demeanor, Ning Xuan could not help but frown.
No wonder he receives so many rewards.
So he’s actually a personal guard at the Prince’s side.
And here I thought he was nothing more than an ordinary courtyard guard…
Truly, one could not judge a person by appearance.
“What are you standing here like a pole for?” Ning Xuan stepped forward, his face full of mischievous satisfaction.
Thinking back to everything that had happened at noon, he raised his hand and flicked Yi Hua sharply on the forehead—returning the earlier strike.
“I heard the master went hunting. As his personal guard, shouldn’t you be following him? Be careful—if your service is lacking, you might not be able to bear the consequences~”
Yi Hua stood stunned.
Slowly, he raised a hand to touch his forehead, now flushed red from the flick. For a long moment, he said nothing—like a man struck by some unseen shock.
Ning Xuan’s smile widened further.
He assumed Yi Hua had been hit right where it hurt, frightened into silence by his words. Grinning, he waved a hand before Yi Hua’s eyes.
“Aren’t you usually quite eloquent? Why so quiet now? Playing dumb?”
With a swift motion, he seized the restless hand waving before his eyes.
Though a trace of focus had returned to Yi Hua’s dark eyes, his expression remained somewhat unsightly, filled with disbelief. He raised a finger and pointed at himself.
“Me? A guard? And a personal one at that?”
“Did I guess wrong?” Ning Xuan stuck out his tongue sheepishly.
“I used to think you were just a courtyard guard, but judging by how you’ve been these past few days—you’ve had plenty of chances to receive rewards from the Prince, you can enter and leave the study freely, and you dress like a martial man… so—”
He looked at Yi Hua with an earnest expression, as though humbly seeking instruction.
“Then what exactly is your post?”
A fleeting trace of helplessness passed across Yi Hua’s face, but it vanished almost as soon as it appeared. His expression soon eased, his tone smoothing out.
“No—you guessed quite well. I was only curious how you arrived at that conclusion.”
Hearing this, Ning Xuan smiled with quiet pride, attempting to withdraw the hand Yi Hua was holding.
Yet Yi Hua subtly tightened his grip, refusing to let him succeed.
Holding Ning Xuan’s wrist gently yet firmly—slow, deliberate, and impossible to resist—he gradually pulled him closer.
Ning Xuan was puzzled.
Though Yi Hua appeared slightly taller than him, his frame was not as broad and robust as that of a typical martial man. Instead, he was tall and slender, almost lean.
Not so fragile as to be blown over by the wind—yet who would have thought he possessed such strength?
As the distance between them narrowed—
So close that Ning Xuan could clearly feel Yi Hua’s breath brushing against his own, their breathing entangled and overlapping—
So close that he could catch the faint, refined scent upon Yi Hua’s body—light and elegant, yet undeniably masculine—
Ning Xuan’s face flushed instantly.
Though they had not known each other long, the memories of their repeated physical closeness surged forth like a spring overflowing—
His lips.
His tongue.
The force of his kisses.
The warmth of his embrace.
The heat of his palms.
Seeing his own reflection mirrored in those dark pupils—
Watching that face draw ever closer—
Everything seemed like a potent poison, drawing him into a daze, intoxicating him—
Flushing his cheeks,
Flushing his eyes,
Flushing even his heart.
Just as their lips were about to meet—
With no more than the thickness of a fingernail between them—
Yi Hua suddenly stopped.
A smile lingered at the corners of his eyes as he looked at Ning Xuan, who was already dazed and limp within his arms.
Letting out a low chuckle, Yi Hua tilted his head aside, deliberately avoiding those enticing lips.
He leaned closer instead, lowering his voice beside Ning Xuan’s ear.
A soft breath brushed against the sensitive curve of the ear, and he watched with satisfaction as the fair skin along the ear and neck flushed instantly red.
Without warning, he lightly bit down on the plump earlobe.
Feeling the body in his arms tremble uncontrollably, he let out a quiet laugh.
“How adorable~”
At those words, Ning Xuan shuddered violently.
That low, pleasing voice was like a cat’s claw scratching lightly at his heart—
Yet it also snapped him back to his senses.
With a burst of strength, he wrenched himself free from Yi Hua’s grasp, retreating several steps in succession. His hand trembled as he pointed at Yi Hua.
“Y-you—! This is the study! The study of Prince Rong! You may not value your life, but I still value mine!”
Yi Hua merely shrugged indifferently, one hand resting casually upon a glazed porcelain vase set upon the stand by the door.
“The Prince isn’t here right now.”
Damn it! And that’s supposed to be a reason to toy with me at will?!
Thinking back to how he had let this very person unsettle his heart, how he had paid such close attention to every word and action of his—Ning Xuan felt his teeth itch with anger.
With a sharp turn of his head, he stood respectfully to one side, properly composed, waiting for Prince Rong to return so he could attend upon him.
Yi Hua, who appeared leisurely as he idly stroked the glazed porcelain vase, was in truth watching Ning Xuan’s every movement with keen attention.
Seeing Ning Xuan’s displeased expression—his lips slightly pouted, yet forced by duty to remain under the same roof—his brows furrowed, head lowered as he fiddled with his fingers in quiet frustration—
Yi Hua could not help but find it amusing.
Unhurriedly, he stepped forward, lifted the teacup from the desk—now heated to its optimal warmth—and with one hand removed the gilded, glazed porcelain lid, gently brushing aside the tea leaves floating upon the surface.
He took a small sip and sighed in satisfaction:
“Excellent tea.”
Ning Xuan did not stop him.
He merely cast him a cold glance and said with a faint smile:
“That’s the Prince’s tea. Don’t say I didn’t warn you—if blame comes down, don’t drag me into it as your scapegoat.”
Yi Hua, however, looked utterly unconcerned.
Leisurely pacing a few steps, he sat himself behind the desk, settling into the cushioned chair. Leaning back against the soft padding, he savored the fragrance of the tea.
“The Prince is in the front hall, discussing matters with Prince Yu. He won’t be back anytime soon—it’s nothing to worry about.”
“The Eighth Prince, Prince Yu?” Ning Xuan murmured instinctively.
From what he had learned in passing conversations with Mo Qi and Qing Zhu, he had some understanding of the court’s affairs.
Prince Yu and Prince Rong were considered to be of the same faction—both opposed to the Crown Prince.
Though Prince Yu’s birth was not especially noble—his birth mother held no high rank and had died in childbirth—he had been raised under the Empress’s care.
In the palace, such a child would normally be subject to disdain and mistreatment.
Yet fate had favored him.
From a young age, the Eighth Prince showed little aptitude for the refined arts, but he excelled in riding and archery and had a passion for hunting. His martial prowess was unmatched among the princes.
Now, having just come of age, he had already been entrusted with military command, granted the title of Prince, and appointed as a general.
“Didn’t he just head west on campaign with General Nalan of the Dingbei Marquis? He’s back already?”
At this, Yi Hua’s dark eyes, slightly veiled by the rising steam from the tea, narrowed imperceptibly.
Yet his tone revealed not the slightest trace of change:
“I wouldn’t have expected that someone so young—who spends all his time within the manor—would know so much.”
Next
Futile Devices Scans 
Leave a comment