Zhan Qin’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly.
The scorching heat of the person in his arms burned through layers of fabric, searing his skin and bones, while that peculiar fragrance grew increasingly dense and entangling. Rong Li tilted her face upward, her eyes shimmering with a watery, almost naive allure, brimming with complete trust as she breathed out a startling demand.
Seeing him remain silent, Rong Li reached out and clutched the front of his robe, blinking. “What’s the matter? Could it be that the illustrious Commander Zhan, renowned across the land, cannot even fulfill a small request from his own wife?”
Advancing one step, retreating two—making others think she was meekly yielding, only to suddenly press forward three steps. Twisting and turning, one careless move would lead them straight into her cunning trap.
Such was the temperament of Her Highness the Eldest Princess.
Zhan Qin lowered his gaze, the turbulent darkness in his eyes quietly suppressed, returning to the depths of an unfathomable, icy abyss.
He withdrew the hand that had been trying to pull her away from his embrace and even spread his arms, almost indulgently allowing Rong Li to cling to him like this.
Yet his words remained as light and detached as ever.
“Your Highness’s request is beyond this humble servant’s capability. When I urged Your Highness to return to the residence, it was out of consideration for your well-being. If Your Highness does not appreciate this and wishes to remain in this humble office, please do as you wish.”
If Zhan Qin so desired, his appearance alone could bring mountains to their knees.
Even now, as he spoke with such cold indifference, Rong Li looked up and caught sight of the tiny red mole on the tip of his nose. Meeting his gaze, all the thoughts swirling in her mind condensed into a single sigh: “The Imperial Consort truly possesses a jade-like quality and golden worth.”
“Very well. Xieyue and Fuyun have already returned to the princess’s residence on my orders. I refuse to go back alone.” Rong Li had come today with the intention of “reconciliation,” unwavering in her resolve. Even if Zhan Qin refused to comply, she persisted, clinging to him and refusing to let go.
Zhan Qin paid her no mind, simply sitting before the desk, reaching for the military strategy notes, and picking up a brush to write.
His posture was upright, impeccable from behind. If not for the pale yellow silk skirt entangled in the overlapping folds of his robe at his side, no one would have imagined that the esteemed Eldest Princess was nestled in Commander Zhan’s embrace.
Rong Li curled up in his arms, and for some reason, being pressed against him like this made the scorching heat that had consumed her body gradually dissipate.
She gazed up at Zhan Qin in a daze, taking in his sharply defined jawline and watching his slender, elegant fingers grip the wolf-hair brush as he wrote in the ledger. For a moment, she was utterly captivated.
Somehow, she recalled the embarrassing illustrations she had glimpsed while flipping through the album Physician Tan had brought that day.
What was the title again?
Ah, yes—the “Beauty Scroll.”
A gentleman holding a brush, starting from the beauty’s neck and shoulders, tracing downward bit by bit, using the beauty as a canvas to write half a body’s worth of meandering ink traces, an endless expanse of springtime allure.
At the time, a single glance had felt utterly absurd. But now, seeing Zhan Qin impeccably dressed and writing with such solemnity, the ambiguous and seductive essence of those illustrations finally dawned upon Rong Li’s heart.
The heat that had begun to subside moments earlier suddenly flared up again, licking like tongues of fire through her limbs and bones, leaving her weak and limp.
The little princess had come up with a brilliant idea.
"I heard that the Imperial Consort was the Military Zhuangyuan of the eighth year of Shuntian." Rong Li suppressed that unbearable restlessness, unconsciously rubbing against Zhan Qin, her hair brushing against his Adam's apple, stirring a wave of tingling sensations.
Zhan Qin let out a low "hmm," momentarily unable to grasp why Rong Li had brought this up.
"I thought only those not particularly skilled in the civil examinations would pursue the military path." Rong Li's delicate jade-like fingers pressed against the military strategy notes Zhan Qin had written, tapping the bold and vigorous calligraphy. "Now, seeing this excellent handwriting, I realize that if the Imperial Consort had taken the civil examinations, you would undoubtedly have succeeded as well."
Her voice was soft, her words sweet as if laced with sugar—a kind of honeyed speech Zhan Qin had never heard from her before.
Civil examinations?
Zhan Qin's brush did not pause, his lips slightly pursed with a hint of a mocking smile—if he could have taken the civil examinations back then, perhaps later he wouldn't have…
But enough, there is no "if."
Family lineage and factional strife persisted year after year; if another civil examination Zhuangyuan were to emerge, it would only bring more relentless hardship, threatening lives.
He finished the last character and lifted his brush to dip it in ink.
Just as Zhan Qin raised his brush, Rong Li swiftly reached out and pushed the notebook aside.
A drop of thick ink fell with her movement, leaving a dark stain on Rong Li's snow-white hand.
Zhan Qin paused, looking down with a questioning gaze.
Rong Li paid him no mind, pulling up her sleeve to reveal a pale, delicate arm resting atop several scrolls and documents.
"The Imperial Consort's calligraphy delights me, and I wish to request a piece of your treasured writing. Unfortunately, there is no paper here worthy of your brushwork." Rong Li leaned back against his chest, exhaling lazily yet restlessly. "How about using my skin as the paper? Would that be worthy of the esteemed Military Zhuangyuan of the dynasty?"
"Surely such a request is not beyond the Imperial Consort's ability to satisfy me?" Rong Li reached out again to grasp his hand holding the brush.
Her scorching, soft hand met his cool fingertips, offering relief to Rong Li's burning restlessness, making her even more unwilling to let go.
"Or perhaps," Rong Li pouted her red lips, looking displeased, "the Imperial Consort simply does not wish to satisfy me?"
She likely had no idea how startling her appearance was at that moment.
Her snow-white skin flushed with a deep crimson, her phoenix eyes glistening as she gazed at him, carrying the arrogance of the long-reigning princess along with a barely perceptible plea.
Zhan Qin's usually steady and calm breath seemed to falter for an instant.
Over a decade ago, struggling to survive in the lowest of places, he had done filthy, unspeakable work that high officials and nobles could never imagine in their lifetimes, and heard lewd and vulgar words that palace-raised royalty would never encounter.
Now, nestled in his arms, did she truly understand the impropriety of what she was saying?
Seeing Zhan Qin remain motionless for a while, the restlessness that had been stirred within Rong Li earlier burned even more fiercely, clouding her senses.
This request denied, that request refused—she thought she had already compromised again and again, so why was it still not enough?
Well, there was no other way. She had tried courtesy first; now it was time for force. She had been quite refined, but the Imperial Consort was being uncooperative.
Rong Li tossed the wolf-hair brush aside, forcefully slipping her small hand into his and guiding it toward the hottest part of her body.
Unexpectedly, before she could succeed, Zhan Qin leaned down, slipped one arm beneath her knees, and lifted her entirely into a horizontal carry.
Rong Li gasped in surprise at the sudden weightlessness, instinctively clutching his robe as she cried out, "What are you doing?!"
Zhan Qin needed only one hand to hold her; with the other, he covered her mouth to silence her. "It's the end of duty hours. If Your Highness does not wish to draw attention, stay quiet."
Unable to speak, Rong Li felt both annoyed and oddly comforted by the coolness of his palm against her face. Unable to resist, she bit it lightly, then nuzzled against it with lingering affection.
"Since Your Highness is unwilling to return alone," Zhan Qin withdrew his hand, his voice tight with restrained irritation, "I shall personally escort you back."
Carrying Rong Li, he strode swiftly out of the small pavilion.
The subordinates waiting outside had retreated to a distance upon his arrival. Hearing the commotion, they glanced up, then immediately lowered their heads in shock, not daring to look further.
"Prepare the carriage. We return to Chang Gongzhu Fu," Zhan Qin ordered coldly, his steps never faltering.
The carriage was already ready. Zhan Qin carried Rong Li directly inside, determined to ensure her proper return.
Though spacious, the carriage felt somewhat more confined than the small pavilion. Rong Li's rich, sweet fragrance seemed to permeate every corner, almost suffocating.
Zhan Qin placed Rong Li on the soft cushion, but she still clung to his sleeve, unwilling to let go. Her body curled slightly from the intensifying heat within, her breaths growing increasingly labored.
Unable to free his sleeve, Zhan Qin let her be. His gaze fell upon her, noticing how this delicate young princess truly could not bear the slightest bit of stifling heat. Unconsciously, she tugged at her sleeves and collar, revealing a large expanse of alluring crimson across her slender collarbone.
Suddenly, Zhan Qin leaned closer.
Startled, Rong Li thought he had finally reconciled with her and eagerly opened her arms, waiting for his embrace. But instead of drawing near, he reached past her to open a hidden compartment in the carriage wall behind her, retrieving a palm-sized white jade box.
Curious, Rong Li watched as he opened the lid. Inside was a translucent, glossy ointment with no discernible scent.
Zhan Qin dipped his fingertip into a small amount of the ointment, then, without hesitation, reached out and applied the cool substance to Rong Li's sweat-dampened temples and the burning sides of her neck.
His movements were brisk and efficient, almost businesslike, as if handling official duties, devoid of any lingering tenderness.
The ointment felt cool and soothing against her skin, with a strong penetrating quality. Enhanced by Zhan Qin's use of Inner Power to massage it in, it gradually seeped into Rong Li's body, instantly alleviating the irritation caused by her inner heat.
Rong Li let out a soft, contented murmur, instinctively tilting her head back like a cat being petted, allowing him to apply it more easily.
After all… it felt very pleasant. She decided not to fuss over the fact that his palms and fingertips were rough with calluses.
Her moist eyes fixed on Zhan Qin's strikingly handsome face so close to hers, observing his focused yet indifferent expression. The grievances of being coldly rejected all day finally surfaced, and she muttered softly, "I thought you would never touch me again in this lifetime. Since you're willing to pay attention to me now, why wouldn't you kiss me earlier?"
Zhan Qin's application paused slightly. His gaze swept over her slender, exposed neck as she tilted her head back, and suddenly, memories of their past, stone-cold interactions flashed through his mind.
He withdrew his hand, closed the jade box, his voice betraying no emotion. "This ointment has cooling and calming effects. If Your Highness feels better, rest quietly and refrain from speaking."
That same detached, official tone again!
Rong Li felt frustrated, yet she couldn't help but crave the momentary relief brought by the Heart-Clearing Ointment. Having exhausted herself all day, she truly lacked the energy to argue further. Reluctantly, she closed her eyes but couldn't resist muttering under her breath, "Stingy Imperial Consort."
Zhan Qin ignored her, returning the jade box to its hidden compartment, the sharp lines of his profile as cold and unyielding as carved stone.
The carriage soon arrived at the princess's residence.
Fuyun and Xieyue had been anxiously waiting ever since Rong Li sent them back. Seeing Zhan Qin step down from the carriage carrying Rong Li, who was bundled up tightly and seemed to have fallen asleep, they hurried forward.
"Your Highness!"
"Her Highness is unwell. Take good care of her." Zhan Qin handed Rong Li over to them, his movements still carrying an unmistakable air of detachment.
"Yes," Fuyun quickly replied, supporting Rong Li together with Xieyue as they hurried toward the inner courtyard.
Zhan Qin remained standing where he was, not leaving immediately. The night breeze brushed against his dark official robes, carrying a hint of the warm, fragrant floral scent unique to the princess's residence, yet it failed to disperse the icy silence enveloping him.
He raised his hand, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing against each other. They seemed to still retain the slick texture of the ointment and… another, searing warmth.
Zhan Qin suddenly remembered—he still hadn't seen what was inside the jade box bestowed by Emperor Shuntian.
Author's Note:
Dear readers, if you cook for yourselves, please be careful and stay safe. Don't end up getting scalded like I did, qaq.
Here's today's update—hope you enjoy it!
Looking forward to your comments, hehe.