With only two attendants following behind to hold up the trailing hem of his cloak, Ning Xuan entered the main hall without a sound. Feng Xuanyi had just seated himself beside the table in the bedchamber and was looking around, wondering where everyone had disappeared to again, when he raised his head and was greeted by an extraordinarily sensual sight.
“This subject pays his respects to Your Majesty. May Your Majesty enjoy endless blessings and peace.”
A male consort knelt only before the emperor. Ning Xuan lowered himself onto one knee, the soft, fine silk settling soundlessly upon the floor, then bowed with his hands clasped. A length of snow-white forearm, flushed warmly by the steam of his bath, emerged from the loose sleeve. Against the crimson fabric, it possessed an indescribable warmth. His lowered eyes had shed their former distance, indifference, and coldness. They were luminous and moist, and even his voice had become deep and hoarse, magnetic and bewitching. From Feng Xuanyi’s angle, the open collar revealed Ning Xuan’s enticing collarbones with perfect clarity. Farther down, his field of vision narrowed, ending tantalizingly at his chest, where two half-concealed points appeared and vanished beneath the fabric, provoking the imagination all the more.
“…” Even Feng Xuanyi, who had enjoyed countless beautiful men and women beneath Heaven and understood the human heart intimately, could not help losing his breath before such devastating beauty. His habitually frozen, ruthless eyes widened slightly. Astonishment and shock rendered him momentarily absent-minded, as though even the surrounding air had stilled in response.
The palace attendants in the room tactfully withdrew without making a sound. Only two soft breaths remained in the air, inexplicably heated and urgent.
Ning Xuan rose without waiting for the emperor’s permission. He lifted his head, entirely unsurprised by Feng Xuanyi’s dazed expression, and spread five jade-pale fingers before the emperor’s eyes, waving them with outrageous familiarity. Mischief and amusement filled his beautiful phoenix eyes.
Perhaps Feng Xuanyi’s earlier surprise could have been blamed upon Ning Xuan’s naturally revealed charm. Perhaps the seductive glimpse of skin had been nothing more than accidental exposure. Perhaps Feng Xuanyi could still have invented countless explanations and convinced himself that he was imagining things and that Ning Xuan had not deliberately meant anything by it. But continuing to insist upon those excuses now would have been willful self-deception.
Feng Xuanyi’s face returned to its usual expressionless mask. He seized the hand that continued waving temptingly before him, entirely unaware of its own allure, and abruptly pulled. Ning Xuan offered no resistance. Following the force, he settled directly onto Feng Xuanyi’s lap. Without the slightest awkwardness, he relaxed his body against the emperor’s chest, wrapped one arm around Feng Xuanyi’s neck, and rested it upon the opposite shoulder. Lowering and slightly tilting his head, Ning Xuan allowed his still-damp hair to spill across Feng Xuanyi’s neck. Their eyes met. Ning Xuan’s gaze was moist, tender, and overflowing with affection, yet the curve of his lips held none of that gentleness—only provocation and enchantment. The faint fragrance of his bath drifted through the lingering mist, and the entire room seemed to be stirred by the warmth of his body, heated and restless, invading every sense. Without any deliberate effort, Ning Xuan constantly tempted and challenged the limits of Feng Xuanyi’s restraint.
Feng Xuanyi’s breathing grew heavier. He inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm himself, but the fragrance only penetrated more thoroughly, like an intoxicating perfume. His eyes darkened, and his throat tightened. He wanted only to imprison the person before him securely within his arms, so that Ning Xuan’s beauty and allure would bloom for him alone. “You smell wonderful.”
He had intended to tease Ning Xuan and disguise the embarrassment of having been successfully seduced, unaware of just how deep and hoarse his voice had become.
“Wonderful?” Ning Xuan’s bright, freshly washed eyes abruptly shifted as though something had occurred to him. He gave Feng Xuanyi an enormous eye roll, withdrew his lingering gaze, and petulantly turned his head aside. Ning Xuan, utterly incapable of appreciating the romantic atmosphere, shattered the tender intimacy between them. A thread of sourness seeped into the seductive fragrance surrounding them. “Your Majesty flatters me. How could I possibly compare with Consort Shu?”
Feng Xuanyi stiffened slightly, not expecting Ning Xuan to mention the matter. Remembering what had happened that morning, he frowned, then found it amusing. In the end, all those emotions became only proud, confident allure in his eyes and a thoroughly wicked curve upon his lips. He reached out and caught Ning Xuan’s chin, gently yet irresistibly turning his face back. Their eyes met once more, allowing no escape. Feng Xuanyi lowered his head until their breaths mingled. “Why do those words sound rather sour?”
Ning Xuan lowered his lashes, appearing half aggrieved and half annoyed. He lifted his chin but failed to escape Feng Xuanyi’s grasp. Even so, the challenging intent had already been conveyed successfully. “I’m jealous. Am I not allowed to be?”
He made no attempt to avoid the subject or conceal his feelings. Had anyone else been present, they would surely have sneered at such affected behavior. Yet Feng Xuanyi, inexplicably delighted, played along. “You are. Why wouldn’t you be? Anything you desire.”
Faced with those sweet words, Ning Xuan did not cooperate by becoming moved. Instead, he snorted twice and seemed to say, Who would believe you? In the blink of an eye, his mind filled with wicked ideas. Since freeing his chin appeared hopeless, he tilted his head back and deliberately named an outrageous price. “I kindly sacrificed my sleeping time and woke early, only to endure the expressions of an entire room full of women. Being a Jieyu is far too stifling. I want a promotion. Noble Attendant sounds good. Make me a Noble Attendant.”
“Very well.” Feng Xuanyi agreed without hesitation, as though he did not care what Ning Xuan had asked—or would have agreed regardless of what he said.
“Noble Attendant isn’t good enough. Make me a Lord.” The deliberate demand presented no difficulty at all, so Ning Xuan continued asking for more.
“Very well.”
“Make me a Noble Lord.”
“Very well.”
“Imperial Noble Lord.”
“Very well.”
“I want to be empress.”
“Very well, but you must give me some time.”
Ning Xuan had only said it casually. He knew Feng Xuanyi would agree. As ruler of a nation, the man possessed that awareness and instinct. He had once made the promise solemnly. Ning Xuan therefore did not doubt that he could obtain power and status, so long as he desired them, was willing to accept them, and opened his mouth to ask. What surprised him was how readily Feng Xuanyi had agreed. Did he have some other scheme, or was it…
Ning Xuan refused to think any farther, because that particular word could never exist within this circle overflowing with vanity and ambition.
Perhaps Feng Xuanyi wanted a reward. Perhaps he merely wished to seal Ning Xuan’s mouth before the boy made an even more outrageous demand and decided he wanted the imperial throne. He leaned forward and captured those nearby, constantly moving, water-colored lips, which remained entirely unaware of how tempting they were. They were soft and sweet, as richly fragrant as he had imagined. One of Feng Xuanyi’s hands rested casually upon the armrest, while the other slid beneath Ning Xuan’s arm, encircled his shoulders, and firmly clasped the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.
Their lips and tongues tangled. As though deliberately amplifying the sound, wet noises filled the silent room. Even the fingers clasping Ning Xuan’s neck grew restless, slipping beneath his raised collar and following the rhythm of the kiss as they gently, suggestively stroked the warm, delicate skin beneath them.
Ning Xuan’s clear eyes reflected the lamplight, golden, intoxicated, and moist enough to drip. His profile was flushed, its lines smooth, his neck elegantly curved. Yet through the haze clouding his thoughts, he stubbornly raised his hands and pushed against the burning chest before him.
“Dinner!” The moment his endangered mouth regained its freedom, Ning Xuan fought desperately to defend his remaining rights.