Watching Feng Xuanyi’s upturned phoenix eyes fixed intently on the specially padded cushioned chair, his expression dark and unreadable, Ning Xuan grew increasingly uneasy.
Ning Xuan had gone through a great deal of mental preparation and internal struggle before finally swallowing his pride and heading to the library pavilion to consult the relevant books. He kept thinking that since it had been his first time, he probably had no sense of restraint and might have hurt Feng Xuanyi. After all, the man possessed a noble body—if he truly had been injured, he probably would not be able to bring himself to say it aloud, especially since Ning Xuan had been the one who caused it. Recalling the erotic illustrations they had accidentally stumbled upon together in the library the other night, Ning Xuan immediately felt all the blood in his body rush straight to his head.
He had originally prepared what he would say if he ran into Mo Qi or Qing Zhu, even how he would distract them so he could freely browse through the books. Yet unexpectedly, the library pavilion had been completely empty—not even a single hair in sight. Thinking they had probably gone out to air the books at this hour, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly searched for the “precious” knowledge he needed.
Catching sight of Ning Xuan’s nervous and awkward appearance from the corner of his eye, Feng Xuanyi secretly laughed and relaxed. Since things had already reached this point, however the other person wanted to think was his own business. Feng Xuanyi neither could nor wished to control it. Besides, what Ning Xuan believed was not necessarily the truth. Why bother caring so much? More importantly, the one being served was himself. Refusing meat already delivered to his mouth would truly be unreasonable.
Thinking this, Feng Xuanyi slowly walked toward the chair he usually occupied—though now its seating height had obviously risen by half due to the thick padded cushion on top. Looking at the fluffy, heavily stuffed seat cushion, Feng Xuanyi forcefully suppressed the twitching of his brows and solemnly sat down. Once seated, he even deliberately let out a slow breath. In Feng Xuanyi’s mind, that sigh was merely to relieve the strain of holding back his laughter; in Ning Xuan’s eyes, however, it was clearly to ease pain in a certain area.
Ning Xuan immediately broke out in cold sweat. Sure enough, his reckless and clumsy “performance” last night must have injured Feng Xuanyi. Such a private place, coupled with such an exalted status—how could he possibly speak of it openly? How could he summon the imperial physician for treatment? Instantly, Ning Xuan resembled a child who had done something wrong and was now awaiting punishment and scolding. The bright vitality he had displayed moments earlier completely vanished, leaving him shrunk quietly into a corner waiting for judgment.
Although Feng Xuanyi appeared entirely serious as he sat there reading the documents beside him without blinking, he missed none of Ning Xuan’s expressions and movements. Looking at the tedious memorials and reports that normally only irritated him, Feng Xuanyi’s eyes unconsciously filled with amusement, even the corners of his lips lifting upward. To conceal it, he hastily raised the documents to cover half his face.
The documents and intelligence reports that usually made him irritable and gloomy no longer seemed so unbearable today. Not only could he calmly focus on them, but even the tangled schemes, intertwined power struggles, and intersecting ambitions within them no longer felt quite so exhausting. Whether it was because of the rare ease of their banter or simply because the person accompanying him in the room today was different, even Feng Xuanyi himself could not say.
Suddenly feeling thirsty, he casually reached for the teacup he had set aside earlier on the desk, only to unexpectedly grasp empty air. Slightly displeased, he lowered his gaze—only to discover that Ning Xuan, who should have been standing off to the side awaiting orders, had somehow silently appeared beside him. Head lowered and eyes modestly cast down, Ning Xuan held the teacup carefully in both hands, looking nervous enough to stop breathing. If it were merely fear and respect, then what did the blush spreading from his cheeks clear to his ears signify?
The gloom from earlier vanished instantly. Even the endless scheming, the heavy burdens and political struggles he had long treated as part of life itself suddenly seemed distant and light. Feng Xuanyi’s gaze upon Ning Xuan unconsciously softened, only to abruptly tighten again as though he had suddenly remembered something. Acting casual, he took the offered teacup and lightly sipped the fragrant tea. The lid slid gently aside, brushing away the flower-like tea leaves floating on the surface.
The cup lid closed, and a pale hand immediately took it away. When he grew tired, weary, or irritated, all he needed to do was lean back against the specially softened cushions behind him, and delicate hands would naturally settle onto his shoulders, massaging them with varying pressure to soothe away his exhaustion.
Feng Xuanyi did not refuse. Ning Xuan felt it only natural, yet both of them overlooked the subtle warmth and quiet softness surrounding the moment. Many years later, when they looked back with regret, they would finally understand that time never returned. That ease, that openness, that lack of wariness and restraint—they had merely been reflections of flowers in a mirror or the moon upon water. Rare beyond measure, yet so easily ignored. At that time, one of them carried schemes layered upon schemes, yet at least in that moment had never once turned those calculations toward the other. The other remained innocent and carefree, unaware that beneath such innocence lurked suffocating conspiracies of terrifying weight. Once time brushed past gently, everything would sink irretrievably beyond recovery. But those were matters for the future. Back then, neither of them could foresee it, nor would either waste energy directing suspicion toward the other—one because he did not know how, the other because he saw no need. Neither realized that such closeness could bloom in but a single instant…
Feng Xuanyi enjoyed himself immensely, pretending to doze while watching Ning Xuan bustle busily around the room—covering him with blankets, shutting windows, and running back and forth without pause. He could not quite describe the feeling in his heart. Men and women had never been lacking around him. He never needed to ask or even pay attention; talented and beautiful people naturally flocked to him. Whether their affection was genuine or false, attentive service was the bare minimum. Yet watching Ning Xuan clumsily scurry about, bumping into this and knocking over that until the entire room rang with clatters and crashes, baring his teeth and nearly tearing up from the pain while nervously glancing toward Feng Xuanyi in fear of waking him—it amused him endlessly. Ning Xuan did not realize Feng Xuanyi had never been asleep at all. He had merely changed angles and postures to better observe what further chaos Ning Xuan might create.
After a full day of this, Feng Xuanyi felt leisurely and comfortable, while Ning Xuan remained tense and anxious. He constantly felt an indistinct gaze sweeping over him, chilling his spine. Yet whenever he turned to look, Feng Xuanyi appeared completely occupied with his own matters and seemingly had no time to bother with him. Ning Xuan could not help suspecting that his nerves had finally become so strained he was hallucinating.
That night, when attending Feng Xuanyi before sleep, Ning Xuan grew so nervous he no longer knew what to do with his hands and feet. He kept wondering how he should bring up the idea of going outside to stand night watch instead. If he somehow “transformed into a wolf” again in the middle of the night and did something outrageous, then even if the prince were magnanimous enough to forgive him, Ning Xuan himself would want to strangle himself to death.
Yet Feng Xuanyi—who had been suppressing laughter all day to the point of internal injury—merely waved a hand with complete seriousness and calmly declared it unnecessary.
Ning Xuan stared at him in shock, his mouth hanging open and unable to close. Hesitantly, he looked toward the bed hidden behind the curtains. He could still vaguely remember the patterns on the bedding and the feel of it against his skin. Then he lowered his gaze toward the couch outside the inner chamber and, after holding back for half the night, finally squeezed out two words: “But…”
Bare-chested, revealing a lean yet powerful physique beneath only a pair of sleeping trousers, Feng Xuanyi’s long hair hung loose to his waist. His eyes half-lidded, he moved silently with elegant steps like a noble Persian cat—except far less harmless than one. The aura and seductive charm radiating from him left people dizzy and breathless. Even the air itself seemed restless because of him. Though separated by some distance, Ning Xuan could still smell the faint lemongrass scent unique to Feng Xuanyi lingering all around him.
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