“Yi Shu.” The voice was so cold it made one’s legs tremble. His icy gaze locked tightly onto Ning Xuan, startling him into shrinking his neck and instinctively taking two steps back to put some distance between them.
Responding to the summons, Yi Shu pushed the door open and entered. He first knelt respectfully to pay his respects, then raised his head to look over—only to freeze in shock. His eyes flicked back and forth between Feng Xuanyi and Ning Xuan before he hastily lowered his head, silent as a cicada in winter.
“Change clothes.” Without acknowledging Yi Shu’s reaction, Feng Xuanyi issued the order through clenched teeth.
Hearing this, Yi Shu rose and moved forward in quick, light steps—silent as a cat—arriving in front of him in the blink of an eye.
At the command, Yi Xuan, Yi Ji, Yi Quan, Yi Heng, Yi Yang, and Yi Guang followed closely behind, each reacting just as Yi Shu had—momentary shock, then immediate action without delay. Dressing, arranging hair, serving tea, pouring water, washing, rinsing—everything flowed in seamless coordination. Not a word was exchanged, yet their division of labor was precise. It was unclear whether this was always the rule or if today was exceptional, but everyone seemed on edge, not daring even to breathe loudly.
As for Ning Xuan, because of his earlier “heroic feat” in dressing the Prince, he had been classified by the seven as a dangerous element. Naturally excluded, he sensibly tucked himself into a corner, watching everyone at work and treating it as a hands-on lesson.
Once everything was finished, Ning Xuan stood off to the side, biting his sleeve in amazement. He had never known that serving someone could be such an art. Truly, comparisons only made one feel inferior. Looking up again at Feng Xuanyi, the contrast to his own earlier “masterpiece” was like night and day. Clad in a deep jujube-red official robe with wide sleeves and flowing hems, hair bound high beneath a jade crown, Feng Xuanyi now stood as the very image of elegance—refined, handsome, and utterly noble, a true “tall, rich, and handsome”. In modern terms, that overwhelming aura of masculine charm would draw countless admirers like moths to a flame.
And as for Ning Xuan’s earlier handiwork… it could hardly be described in words.
Ning Xuan sighed deeply: truly, clothes make the man, just as gold adorns the Buddha.
At some point, Feng Xuanyi had dismissed everyone. When Ning Xuan came back to his senses, he realized the room held only himself and the Prince, staring at each other. Recalling the Feng Xuanyi he had known before, then looking again at the elegant and noble figure before him, Ning Xuan broke out in a cold sweat. Normally silver-tongued, confident he could talk even the dead to life, his tongue now tied itself in knots, unable to produce a single word.
“You—” Wrong. Ning Xuan wanted to slap himself; sooner or later, this mouth of his would get him killed. “Does Your Highness have any further instructions?” Putting on what he believed to be his most respectful and reverent posture, he silently muttered in his heart: Though wrapping you up like a rice dumpling did somewhat insult your noble status, embarrassing yourself in front of the servants—especially that many servants—that’s not on me. Who told you to shout recklessly and bring trouble upon yourself?
Even as he justified himself inwardly, his actions did not lag. Just as he was about to kneel to demonstrate proper respect, a sudden force on his arm stopped him.
Staring at the large hand gripping his blue sleeve, then following it to the luxurious jujube-red fabric of the Prince’s robe, Ning Xuan did not dare lift his gaze any further, nor did he have the leisure to indulge his curiosity about his master’s expression.
“So now you know fear? Now you know respect? Where was that earlier?” The low voice above his head sounded—its emotion impossible to discern.
Ning Xuan inwardly cursed Feng Xuanyi for being petty and holding grudges, yet even if he were given a hundred times the courage, he would not dare show it on his face. “This servant is attending for the first time; some clumsiness is inevitable. If there has been any negligence, I ask that Your Highness, in your magnanimity, not hold it against me.”
“Of course,” Feng Xuanyi replied—so readily, so agreeable that Ning Xuan had not even finished feeling relieved before the next words crushed his hopes, “though the death penalty may be spared, punishment cannot be avoided.”
Before he could react, Ning Xuan felt himself suddenly lifted by a force. Just as surprise flickered across his face, he looked up—only to meet a strikingly handsome face enlarged before his eyes. Before he could even register Feng Xuanyi’s expression, warmth pressed against his lips, and the thoughts that had only just begun to return instantly froze again. His upturned phoenix eyes widened in shock, dark pupils filled with disbelief, his hands stiffly braced against the man’s chest—yet he forgot to resist.
“It’s not even your first kiss—must you be so shocked?” A damp, warm tongue brushed teasingly across his lips as Feng Xuanyi drew him fully into his arms. Leaning close to his ear, his low, magnetic voice sounded like a devil tempting one into the abyss. “That expression… are you trying to seduce me?”
His fingers lightly caressed Ning Xuan’s fair, delicate cheek. Even at such close distance, the skin was flawless, without a trace of pores. With a low chuckle, Feng Xuanyi gazed at the small ear, flushed red by his breath, and without hesitation showed his liking—his lips closing around it in a slow, lingering kiss.
A numbing, electric sensation spread from the earlobe, traveling through every vein to his limbs. Ning Xuan jolted, his body trembling uncontrollably. His stalled mind finally sensed danger and reluctantly began to function again. He struggled, twisting, pushing with all his strength, yet it was like mud sinking into the sea—utterly ineffective. He had never known that even between men, the difference in strength could be so vast. Despite exerting all his effort, sweat forming at his temples, the man holding him remained utterly unmoved.
“So fragrant… so smooth…” Feng Xuanyi murmured in genuine praise as he reluctantly released the small, rounded earlobe. But to Ning Xuan, those words only fueled his anger.
Damn it! I’m a man—what kind of description is “fragrant and smooth and soft and tender”? Why not go all the way and call me golden and crispy on the outside, tender on the inside?! What am I, roasted suckling pig?! Even if you’re the Prince, even if you’re the master—this is beyond tolerable!
“Let go! Or don’t blame me—” Before Ning Xuan could finish, his words were sealed within lips once again.
Feng Xuanyi wrapped one arm around Ning Xuan’s waist, exerting force without allowing resistance. The slight gap created by Ning Xuan’s struggling vanished instantly as their bodies pressed tightly together. Their chests collided, hearts pounding wildly; even through layers of fabric, the closeness left no room for separation. Ning Xuan’s hands were easily restrained in one of Feng Xuanyi’s, pinned upward against the wall, unable to move.
Unlike the fleeting, light touches before, this kiss was fierce—like a storm’s invasion—leaving Ning Xuan caught off guard and overwhelmed. His lips and tongue grew numb, tinged with a faint sting—painful, yet not entirely so. Mixed within it was a subtle, tantalizing sensation that made his heart race uncontrollably.
His strength seemed to drain away with the kiss, his legs weakening. Only the firm hold at his waist and the press of their bodies kept him from collapsing. The intensity of the kiss made even breathing difficult, stifled and uneven.
“Mmm—!” He wanted to pull away, to breathe, to take in fresh air—but the slight parting of his lips only granted Feng Xuanyi greater access, allowing him to deepen the conquest even further.
Next
Futile Devices Scans 
Leave a comment