Sui Sui was no stranger to Li Chongjun’s arousal. He was a young man, full of vigor, at the prime of his years. And Sui Sui, trained as a little actress, could sing and flirt with ease. If he hadn’t reacted at all, then perhaps he really did need deer-blood wine to stir him. She vaguely knew that Li Chongjun was more impressive than most men. But what she saw now was clearly not normal.
Heavy and long, his rigid shaft pressed up against his lower belly, straining the thin silk under-robe, even curving upward, forcing out the rounded tip.
Hard as iron.
Sui Sui felt she might go blind, yet couldn’t help marveling, and—almost against her will—she poked it lightly with her fingertip.
Good heavens, not just iron.
But burning-hot iron.
That single poke was enough to wake Li Chongjun. Before she realized, her wrist was caught in his grip.
“Your Highness, I was wrong, I was wrong—”
This was dangerous ground; better to be cautious. Caught red-handed, Sui Sui immediately confessed with sincerity. But Li Chongjun flung her hand away, so forcefully she nearly toppled. He propped himself up, brow furrowed, leaning against the railing, one hand pressed to his temple. His dark eyes melted, almost dripping as they fell on her.
Through clenched teeth, he spat: “Get out.”
Sui Sui felt pardoned by heaven itself: “Yes!”
She always adjusted to people’s moods. Seeing Li Chongjun’s temper flare again, she quickly fled, lifting her skirts to run. But as she stepped down, Madam Xia was already waiting beneath the osmanthus tree.
Sui Sui stopped short, hastily explaining: “It wasn’t me who wanted to come—they forced me! I only looked at His Highness. I did nothing, really. If you don’t believe me, ask him!”
Madam Xia grew anxious at once: “How could you do nothing!”
“…?”
“His Highness is burning with fire; he must be relieved. Otherwise, why would they call you here?”
Sui Sui finally realized—*so this was the “treatment” they meant.*
That night, Madam Xia dragged her forward, pushing and pulling her toward the inner chamber: “You little vixen! Before, we couldn’t keep you away, and now, when you’re needed, you act coy! Aren’t you the best at this trade? Get in there!”
“Madam Xia—listen to me, Madam Xia, it was His Highness who drove me out! Don’t go, Madam Xia—”
But Madam Xia shoved her inside, dropped the curtain, then turned to rap two nosy maids on the head, scolding: “Out with you! If any of you dare peek again, I’ll throw you in there too.”
The maids scurried off, giggling under the west window: “No wonder Miss Sui used to cry out like that—it was His Highness—hee hee hee.”
“Exactly. They say men with high noses are terrifying in that regard. Well, I’ve seen it now.”
“Who’s on duty tonight? Just wait—you’ll see how many times he needs water. None of us will sleep.”
Sui Sui had been standing by the west window, but after hearing this, she quietly shifted to the east side. Li Chongjun saw her moving about and glared: “Why are you still here?”
She whispered: “Madam Xia pushed me in.”
His hall was vast; afraid he couldn’t hear, she stepped closer. But he barked: “Don’t come near!”
Sui Sui froze, dared not move. After a while, she softly asked if she could sleep by his brazier for the night.
Li Chongjun ignored her. He leaned back against the railing, eyes closed, brows knotted, teeth clenched. Sui Sui could tell he was struggling to suppress the heat surging inside him.
It was always like this.
After the “performance,” the aftermath was hardest for him. This time, with the tonics, it must have been even more overwhelming.
It had to hurt.
Sui Sui had never felt such a thing herself, but she could imagine.
Forget it—let him suffer.
Pain mixed with pleasure—after all, it was for Yiyi.
Sui Sui knew Li Chongjun had someone in his heart. Her age and background were unknown; all she knew was that her childhood name was Yiyi.
Seeing him like this, Sui Sui didn’t dare provoke him. She sat on the floor, leaning against a crescent stool, hugging her knees until she fell asleep. Luckily, the floor was carpeted and warm.
The lamp went out.
The brazier still burned, its faint crackles seeping into Sui Sui’s dreams, like rain falling through half the night—until a man’s voice woke her.
“Water.”
Sui Sui rubbed her face, realizing Li Chongjun wanted water. Drowsily, she climbed up, lit the candle, and went to the plum-blossom table. She poured from the teapot into the warming jar, carried the cup and candle to his bedside.
Li Chongjun wasn’t fully awake. The tea was a little cool, but he didn’t complain. He drank it, then lay back down again.
The lamplight was small, a faint yellow glow, illuminating the sharp lines of his profile. His nose was high and straight like a little mountain—bathed in golden dusk, like a painting. But Sui Sui’s attention was caught by what lay beneath his pillow. It was the corner of a handkerchief, thin and worn, half-hidden, showing only one character: Yi.
Yiyi.
She had already noticed it before.
Li Chongjun kept secrets under his pillow.
Sui Sui didn’t know many characters; she had copied this one and asked her little uncle before learning how to read it.
Such an old handkerchief must belong to someone from the past. Was it a girl from Chang’an? Would he see her again when he returned there?
Thinking of this, Sui Sui couldn’t help but feel happy for him and Miss Yi. But then she thought of Miss Yang, and pitied her—married yet with a husband whose heart already belonged elsewhere.
Still, Li Chongjun had done nothing wrong. The marriage was arranged by the emperor; no one could defy an imperial decree. If he kept himself pure for Miss Yi, it meant he truly wished to marry her.
Sui Sui had acted in plays for years; she knew these stories well—one scholar, two or three beauties. Usually, there was a childhood sweetheart, a noble lady, and a courtesan of unmatched beauty—all falling for the same hapless scholar, willing to die to marry him. And the scholar, of course, would pass the imperial exams as a top scholar, and all three beauties would unite. The women would call each other sisters, sharing him without jealousy.
Compared to that, Li Chongjun seemed more of a man. He could have many women, but he loved only Yiyi.
For Yiyi, he had endured two years without touching Sui Sui.
For Yiyi, he faced marriage to a noble lady without joy.
Though Li Chongjun was moody and hard to serve, perhaps he was truly a man of deep devotion.
Sui Sui, moved by her own thoughts, grew drowsy. The lamp went out, and she, half-asleep, forgot where she was. She set the candlestick by the railing and lay down. But half an hour later, she slapped herself awake. In her sleep, she felt herself turned over, breath rushing by her ear—like the panting of a beast, damp, hot, ticklish. She reached out to push the beast away, but her hand was seized, pulled down, pinned.
“Pain, pain, pain!” She frowned, cried out, and opened her eyes in a haze—only to see a man’s face inches away. No, only the side of it—his face was buried in the hollow of her neck.
“Ah—you, you, you—who are you!”
The man’s voice was hoarse and drawn out, carrying obvious displeasure: “Who else would you want?”