The Imperial Palace.
The Funing Hall where the emperor resided was brightly lit, with palace attendants standing with heads bowed in hushed silence, each going about their duties in orderly fashion. White mist of agarwood incense rose from the gilt incense burner carved with chi-dragon patterns, and layers of gauze curtains interwove to shroud the old man’s figure reclining on the dragon bed in hazy obscurity.
Zhao Yuling had already re-applied her makeup and was led into the hall by the old emperor’s eunuch, kneeling at a distance of several steps from the dragon bed:
“Your child pays respects to Imperial Father.”
The old emperor’s murky eyes stirred slightly, gazing through the gauze curtain at the blurry figure of his youngest daughter, and let out a barely audible sigh.
The eunuch Liang Fuquan understood his intent and gestured for Zhao Yuling to come closer so the old emperor could see her clearly.
“You’re back… it’s good that you’re back.”
Having grown old, the emperor had developed a fondness for his children that he’d rarely possessed before. But his other children were all grown now, long estranged from him; only this youngest daughter, who had gone away to recuperate, could still fulfill some measure of familial joy.
When he’d heard that his youngest daughter had encountered an accident upon entering the capital, the old emperor had already flown into a rage, punishing a batch of imperial guards and ordering both the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review to conduct a thorough investigation.
Zhao Yuling knelt obediently and said, “Imperial Father, your child was able to emerge unscathed today thanks to Young Marquis Pei’s timely rescue.”
“I know,” the old emperor said with a light chuckle. “I will summon him to the palace tomorrow. You need not worry.”
Zhao Yuling pressed her lips together, then spoke with a hint of boldness and testing: “Imperial Father, Young Marquis Pei has the bearing of a celestial being, his demeanor most handsome…”
The old emperor narrowed his eyes—how could he fail to catch his youngest daughter’s meaning? He laughed heartily and cut her off: “Haha… Yuling has excellent taste. But unfortunately, three months ago, I already bestowed a marriage upon Jinzhi.”
That marriage had been requested by Pei Zhiyu himself.
Since the Grand Tutor held no real power anyway, a union between the two families would have little impact, and it would be a fine way to win over this sharp blade. The emperor was happy to grant it.
Zhao Yuling’s lowered expression stiffened slightly, and she repeated in disbelief: “…A bestowed marriage?”
“Since Yuling has returned to the capital, I will naturally select a fine consort for you. There are many talented young men in the capital—rest assured.”
She could no longer take in what the old emperor was saying, mechanically giving thanks for his grace, her mind filled with only one thought—
That handsome and valiant young marquis was already married?!
When she spoke with the old emperor afterward, Zhao Yuling was distracted. After withdrawing from Funing Hall, she grabbed her personal maid’s arm tightly and hissed in a low voice:
“…How could he be married?”
The maid winced in pain but dared not cry out, enduring it as she said, “Your Highness, since the young marquis is already wed, let it go. It was only a brief encounter after all…”
Zhao Yuling’s grip tightened further, but a dark look rose in her beautiful eyes as the night wind scattered her whispered words:
“No. This princess will have him.”
What had originally been only three parts of desire had become nine parts precisely because of this obstacle.
What Zhao Yuling wanted, she had never failed to obtain!
So what if he was married? Married couples could divorce.
Only three months had passed, and it was a marriage bestowed by imperial decree. Never mind children—they might not even have much affection between them.
Zhao Yuling calculated silently, then ordered: “Have Linyuan investigate who his current wife is, and whether the two had any prior connection… report everything to this princess.”
The night deepened, and the marquis’s residence gradually dimmed its lights.
Pei Zhiyu lowered his gaze, watching the powder dissolve into the water like snowflakes melting, the rich fragrance of jasmine masking the faint medicinal scent—nothing amiss at all.
His fingers tightened around the teacup, and when his eyes fell upon the small, delicate figure blurred behind the gauze curtain, his heartbeat quickened.
“Wife, the night air carries a chill. Have a cup of hot tea before you rest.”
The curtain stirred softly, and Jiang Sui poked her head out. Her soft black hair cascaded over her shoulders onto her snow-white sleeping robes, and her clear, moist eyes blinked, making her look all the more like a curious kitten.
So small… could be held in one arm… so adorable.
Pei Zhiyu’s breath deepened for a moment before returning to normal. He stepped forward with a smile, offering the teacup, but his gaze involuntarily lingered on Jiang Sui’s glossy lips, moistened by the jasmine water, then drifted to her throat as she swallowed.
All… all of it drunk.
“Husband, why do you keep staring at me?”
Jiang Sui looked up, holding the teacup. Her husband appeared no different from usual, yet the look in his eyes seemed far more viscous, clinging tightly to her.
Pei Zhiyu started slightly, then quickly composed himself, a flawless warm smile rising to his brows and eyes:
“It’s just that your husband feels that with the lamplight dim, my wife looks especially captivating.”
As he spoke, he bent down, one hand plucking the teacup from her grasp, his tall, straight nose nearly brushing her face as he asked gently:
“Tonight… may I?”
Jiang Sui bit her lower lip, feigning shyness as she lowered her lashes, but the excitement and anticipation rising in her eyes were thoroughly concealed.
“…Yes.”
The answer, soft as a mosquito’s hum, landed in Pei Zhiyu’s ears like a thunderclap. He clenched his jaw to suppress the tremor, gently gathering her into his arms as he tumbled toward the bed, casually extinguishing all the lamps in the room.
…
The fine, gentle spring rain gradually ceased, and Jiang Sui was already drowsy in his arms.
She thought fuzzily, why did today seem especially tiring?
Clearly Pei Zhiyu was the same as before… stopping at the limit, never indulging.
This gentleman who adhered so strictly to propriety was even this restrained in bed.
Jiang Sui drifted off to sleep, her mind clouded with confusion and a subtle, unfulfilled dissatisfaction.
When Pei Zhiyu carried her to wash, he heard the long, steady breaths coming from her in his arms.
His fingers, hooked around her shoulder and the bend of her knees, tightened slightly as he called out in a low voice, “My lady? My lady?”
Jiang Sui slept soundly, her face buried against him, her disheveled black hair spread out in tangles across his chest, tickling him softly.
A sleeping Suisui was so obedient.
Pei Zhiyu slowed his steps, holding her more securely, but the eyes that looked down at her no longer concealed their desire—dark, wild, and overflowing with obsessive tenderness.
“Suisui…”
This name—one that had lingered in his heart, that had been turned over on his lips countless times in the dark of night—was finally spoken aloud in this moment.
The corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curl upward, carrying a sick, feverish excitement, as his low, gentle calls came one after another:
“Suisui… Suisui…”
His Suisui.
His…
Suisui.
In the washroom, the sound of water rippled and murmured for a long while before finally ceasing.
Pei Zhiyu, thoroughly sated, carried her back to the bed. As he lay down, tightly embracing the soft warmth in his arms, he let out a low, satisfied sigh.
This medicine was indeed effective—even so, Suisui had not woken.
Though today had not been entirely fulfilling, at least from now on, he would no longer have to hold back.
His palm traced along Jiang Sui’s spine in lingering, gentle strokes. The smooth, warm skin beneath his touch made his breath tremble, and he pressed her more firmly against himself.
Holding her tightly, as if to knead her into his very bones.
The one he had longed for day and night… Pei Zhiyu lowered his head, brushed aside the strands of hair at the nape of her neck, and pressed a soft kiss to that small patch of tender, hidden skin. He then grazed it lightly with his teeth, leaving a faint red mark that was barely noticeable.
He caressed the imprint he had left with deep satisfaction before finally closing his eyes.
Suisui… would always be his.