That night, when Feng Xuanyi arrived at Fengyi Palace with a grand procession of palace attendants, Nalan Xuan had already finished washing and dressing with the servants’ help. He wore the heavy, magnificent robes of the empress, his ink-black hair swept high and secured with a red coral hairpin. His face bore no powder and his lips no rouge, yet his eyes shone like falling stars and his skin seemed carved from jade. Possessed of peerless beauty, he sat in the place of honor and calmly ate his evening meal. When Feng Xuanyi entered, Nalan Xuan did not hurry to rise and greet him. He merely lifted his eyes in an indifferent glance before returning his attention to the exquisite dishes covering the table.
“This servant greets Your Majesty. May Your Majesty enjoy ten thousand blessings and perfect peace.” Nalan Xuan might dare openly provoke the emperor, but the servants of Fengyi Palace certainly did not. One after another, they dropped to their knees and bowed respectfully.
If anyone in the entire court or harem could behave so disrespectfully toward the emperor and remain perfectly unharmed, Nalan Xuan was probably the only one. At first, the servants of Fengyi Palace had been astonished by His Majesty’s indulgence. By now, they had long since grown accustomed to it.
Removing his cloak, Feng Xuanyi sat down naturally. His gaze swept across the dishes on the table before stopping on a bowl of crucian carp soup. His brows immediately drew together. “Who is on duty in the Imperial Kitchen tonight?”
Mo Yan stepped forward and reported, “Answering Your Majesty, Steward Yin Te should have been on duty, but he recently took leave because of illness. His apprentice has been overseeing things these past few days.”
“Thirty strokes.”
Only after giving the punishment did Feng Xuanyi reluctantly pick up his bowl and chopsticks and begin eating.
“Yes.” Moving unobtrusively, Mo Yan quietly removed the crucian carp soup that had caused so much trouble and led the other palace attendants out without making a sound.
Throughout the exchange, Nalan Xuan’s expression did not change in the slightest. He treated Feng Xuanyi’s every movement as though it were nothing but empty air and continued eating on his own. Only now did he suddenly remark, “Your Majesty certainly pays attention. Even such trivial matters concern you.”
Back in Prince Rong’s Residence, everything had seemed new to Nalan Xuan. He had been curious about almost anything, including food, and had never been picky about sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, or salty flavors. The one thing he could not tolerate was crucian carp soup, despite everyone else praising its freshness and flavor. Once, Feng Xuanyi had “accidentally” poured some of the broth over his rice and coaxed him into taking a bite, only for Nalan Xuan to break out in a rash from an allergic reaction.
Perhaps Feng Xuanyi would never have bothered remembering something like that in the past. Other people’s likes and dislikes had had nothing to do with him. But now, not a word, gesture, or movement from Nalan Xuan escaped Feng Xuanyi’s eyes or failed to carve itself into his heart.
“I remember everything you like and dislike.”
Feng Xuanyi said it sincerely. Nalan Xuan found it almost laughable. He gave a quiet, cold chuckle and thought that if Feng Xuanyi had said those words to Ning Xuan earlier, Ning Xuan probably would have followed him devotedly and let him trample all over his heart however he pleased.
Having more or less finished eating, Nalan Xuan lifted the tea prepared beside him and rinsed his mouth. Then he raised a hand, pulled the hairpin free, and casually tossed it onto the table. His long black hair spilled down like a waterfall. In the blink of an eye, he seemed to become an entirely different person. His gaze turned languid and seductive as his body softened, and he settled directly onto Feng Xuanyi’s lap, seemingly boneless as he melted against him.
He brought that devastatingly beautiful face closer until their breaths mingled and their eyes met. Both arms circled Feng Xuanyi’s neck. The corner of Nalan Xuan’s lips rose in a curve that seemed disdainful yet carried undeniable temptation, rich and intoxicating as fine wine, like a mire designed to draw a person deeper and deeper. Nalan Xuan deliberately leaned closer and pressed his lips toward Feng Xuanyi’s, only for Feng Xuanyi to push him away at the instant they touched.
Nalan Xuan laughed softly and persisted.
Feng Xuanyi pushed him away again, lowering his gaze and avoiding Nalan Xuan’s invitation. Only then did Nalan Xuan belatedly notice the traces of exhaustion between Feng Xuanyi’s brows.
“What’s wrong? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Now that I’m offering it myself, you’ve suddenly decided to be polite?” Nalan Xuan smiled faintly, his voice gentle. His warm breath brushed Feng Xuanyi’s cheek like a cat’s paw scratching persistently at the heart while refusing to give any true satisfaction. His heavy empress robes rubbed against Feng Xuanyi’s imperial garments, the faint rustle of cloth magnifying every suggestive movement between them. “Or does Your Majesty have some other requirement? You need only say so.”
The movement of Nalan Xuan’s body steadily tested the limits of Feng Xuanyi’s reason. The person in his arms was beautiful, and more importantly, he was the lover Feng Xuanyi had thought about day and night. Feng Xuanyi was no saint. Even the legendary Liu Xiahui himself might not have remained unmoved before Nalan Xuan’s invitation when he knew perfectly well it was meant as provocation.
Without warning, Feng Xuanyi abruptly stood. Both hands closed around Nalan Xuan’s shoulders and held him at a distance, restraining the careless movements with which Nalan Xuan kept playing with fire. Feng Xuanyi drew a deep breath and struggled to regain control, yet could not completely conceal the heavier, disordered rhythm of his breathing. “Don’t do this. I know you don’t want it.”
“Don’t want it?” Nalan Xuan looked genuinely astonished. He glanced himself up and down, then stubbornly forced Feng Xuanyi to meet his gaze again. Amusement entered his voice. “If this counts as unwilling, then perhaps Your Majesty can explain to this minister what willingness is supposed to look like.”
“Don’t do this.” Feng Xuanyi repeated the words, and this time they sounded almost pleading, almost sad. “Not unless you truly want—”
Everything he had not yet said was sealed between Nalan Xuan’s lips. The moment their mouths met, countless sharp currents seemed to burst from the point of contact and race through their bodies. Both men froze for an instant. Eyes half lowered, Nalan Xuan gently rubbed his lips against Feng Xuanyi’s twice before his wet tongue slipped between the other man’s parted lips, pried open his teeth, and sought the tongue that still seemed stunned into stillness, leisurely exploring every corner of Feng Xuanyi’s mouth.
Feng Xuanyi’s surprise lasted only an instant before the kiss turned into a violent storm. The final thread of reason snapped beneath the strain. His hands slid from Nalan Xuan’s shoulders, one cupping the back of his head while the other tightened around his waist with such force it seemed he wanted to crush him and knead him directly into his bones and blood.
Taking control, Feng Xuanyi thrust his tongue into the mouth already opened to him. It swept over Nalan Xuan’s full, wet lips. Perhaps he was angry at Nalan Xuan for repeatedly provoking him despite every warning, or perhaps angry at himself for knowingly sinking into the same trap again. He bit down with slightly more force on Nalan Xuan’s lower lip. The faint sting made Nalan Xuan frown, yet the pain only sharpened the pleasure spreading through him. Their mouths remained locked together, and an indistinct moan escaped Nalan Xuan’s throat, making Feng Xuanyi want even more fiercely to conquer him, possess him, and hear more of those sounds.
They shifted angles as their tongues tangled, brushing over teeth and gums, sliding across the roof of the mouth, pursuing one another without pause. It was like rain after a devastating drought, as though Feng Xuanyi could not bear to leave a single part of Nalan Xuan’s mouth untouched. Nalan Xuan refused to yield either. He neither retreated nor simply allowed Feng Xuanyi to do as he pleased. Instead, the two seemed to fall into a contest, each putting everything into the struggle as though both wanted to devour the other whole.
Saliva they had no time to swallow slipped from the corners of their mouths and traced the graceful line of Nalan Xuan’s jaw, shining beneath the candlelight with unmistakable sensuality. The occasional murmurs escaping his throat—part dissatisfaction, part pleasure, part pain—became an intoxicant of their own, driving the encounter further beyond control.
Their breathing grew steadily heavier. The atmosphere itself seemed transformed by that one deep kiss, restless and increasingly heated.
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