The Emperor looked toward Jiya. “I have over a dozen sons. I wonder which one has caught Your Highness’s favor?”
Jiya’s gaze swept across the dozen or so princes present before finally returning to Nangong Yi seated in the foremost position. “Your Majesty, I wish to marry the Crown Prince.”
As these words fell, the great hall fell into complete silence.
The officials inwardly gasped, silently criticizing this Mobei princess for her audacity—especially since the Crown Princess was right there present.
Bateer abruptly turned to glare at his sister, silently questioning why she wasn’t following their planned course of action.
Yet Jiya acted as if she noticed nothing, turning back to await the Emperor’s response.
The Emperor neither agreed nor refused, instead redirecting the question to Song Yao: “What does the Crown Princess think?”
The Empress furrowed her willow-leaf eyebrows in disapproval, yet with so many people present, she couldn’t openly object.
Meanwhile, Song Yao, who had been publicly addressed: …
What could Song Yao say? Naturally, she had to display the magnanimity and composure expected of a proper wife. Rising to respond, she answered: “Your Majesty, if His Highness is willing, I naturally have no objections.”
No sooner had she spoken than she felt two displeased death glares upon her. Without looking, she knew they came from her nominal parents. Song Yao chose to ignore them.
What else was she supposed to say? That she wasn’t willing? Then she’d be labeled as jealous—a reputation that offered no benefits, and she certainly wouldn’t take that path.
Jiya turned to Song Yao in disbelief, never expecting Song Yao would agree so readily.
She had heard the couple had just recently married. What new bride in the world would willingly accept another woman entering her household so soon after her own marriage, especially when she held the position of Crown Princess?
She had originally intended to use Song Yao to sabotage this marriage alliance, but who would have thought… This woman was truly, truly unbelievable!
It seemed her mother was right—women from the Central Plains were all spineless, husband-worshipping pushovers with no temper or opinions of their own!
Nangong Yi set down his wine cup, adjusted his wide golden-embroidered python-patterned sleeves, and spoke in a cool, detached tone, his words concise: “I am unwilling.”
The crowd was astonished, and even Song Yao glanced sideways at him—was he really being this direct?
Nangong Yi stood up, took Song Yao’s hand, and looked toward the Emperor with his dark, narrow phoenix eyes. His words seemed directed at the Mobei delegation yet also specifically meant for the Emperor: “In this lifetime, I need only Yao Yao.”
Song Yao: ?!
Song Yao thought Nangong Yi had gone mad. Why would he say such a thing? Was this something the Crown Prince of a nation should declare in front of everyone? Did he still want the throne or not?
Nangong Yi wasn’t mad, but his words had indeed touched the Emperor’s sore spot. The Emperor’s expression shifted repeatedly, appearing both displeased and embarrassed.
As the Emperor’s emotions surfaced, the temperature in the great hall plummeted.
Finally, the Empress sighed softly and intervened to smooth things over: “Yi’er and Yao Yao have just married—this really isn’t appropriate. Every prince of our Da Yuan is an outstanding talent, Princess Jiya. Perhaps you might consider choosing someone else?”
Though the Empress spoke with a smile, Jiya felt a chill run down her spine. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to concede so easily. Clenching her fists, she declared firmly:
“Your Majesty, if it is to be a marriage alliance, I will marry no one but your Crown Prince!”
Nangong Yi: “If that’s the case, then let there be no marriage alliance.” Nangong Yi never once looked at Jiya throughout—there was simply no need.
“Father, marital unions are not the only path to friendly relations between our two nations. From what I understand, Mobei is rich in livestock, agate, and jade. If our two countries negotiate to open trade routes for commercial exchange, it would benefit both our nations and our people.”
The Emperor’s willingness for a marriage alliance was never strong to begin with. Although his son’s words had stirred some anger in him, when it came to matters of state, he wouldn’t allow emotions to sway his decisions.
With father and son echoing each other’s sentiments, Bateer had no choice but to agree, and the matter of the marriage alliance was naturally postponed for the time being.
The moon hung high in the midnight sky as the banquet concluded.
The Eastern Palace carriage moved steadily on the return journey, spacious and comfortable inside.
Nangong Yi, having drunk too much, rested his head on Song Yao’s lap with his eyes closed to soothe his mind. The usually stern man appeared somewhat softer due to his drunken state, making him seem more approachable.
Song Yao’s heart itched with temptation. She casually stroked Nangong Yi’s head as if by accident, feeling quite satisfied after succeeding, her fox-like eyes narrowing slightly with contentment.
“Your Highness, why did you say at the banquet that this humble servant alone is enough for your lifetime?”
Nangong Yi lifted his eyelids, capturing the woman’s slender wrist and bringing it to his thin lips, planting a warm kiss on her jade-like skin.
“Does Furen not wish it?”
The kiss was light, yet Song Yao felt as if her skin had been scalded, wanting to withdraw her hand but refraining.
Instead, she used her fingers to trace the man’s beautifully colored lips, her heart filled with desire while her words remained utterly calm and rational.
“How could this humble servant not wish it? But Your Highness is the Crown Prince. What would those ministers think if they heard such words? If they develop ulterior motives and defect to other princes because of this, wouldn’t Your Highness lose much support? The mere thought of this fills this humble servant with worry and fear.”
Nangong Yi’s brows relaxed, the last traces of gloom in his heart dissipating: “What I want, I never fail to obtain.”
Song Yao: “Including this humble servant?” Song Yao asked quickly, half-teasing, half-sincere, genuinely curious.
First claiming she was enough for him, then kissing her hand – it was impossible for her not to overthink. Her fingertips lingered on his thin lips, her lazy voice utterly captivating.
“Is this humble servant also what Your Highness desires?”
Silence fell in the carriage, with only the sound of wheels turning and the driver urging the horses audible.
After a long while, Nangong Yi parted his lips: “Yes.”
A smile rippled from the corners of Song Yao’s eyes, though it was unclear whether she believed him or not. Her courage, however, had grown: “Then please rise, Your Highness. Your skull is too hard, it’s crushing this humble servant’s legs.”
Nangong Yi obediently sat up, assuming a dignified posture.
As Song Yao approached, he instinctively wrapped his arm around her slender, soft waist. This intimate gesture and position he had performed countless times – in dream after dream over more than a decade.
As her subtle fragrance drew near and moisture touched his lips, after a moment of surprise, he cupped the back of Song Yao’s head, taking control and deepening the kiss.
Their passions intertwined, sweet to the point of cloying.
Since both possessed good stamina, this first kiss was exceptionally long. When they finally parted, their eyes were dazed with passion.
Sitting on Nangong Yi’s thigh, Song Yao hooked her bonelessly soft arms around the man’s neck, breathing lightly. Her tender red lips, numb and slightly swollen from the kiss, remained restless as she greedily leaned closer, whispering seductive words like orchid-scented breath into his ear.
“Your Highness is also what this humble servant desires.”
Nangong Yi’s eyes darkened deeply, like a beast’s eyes concealing a chilling ferocity, yet within these eyes now clearly reflected Song Yao’s image.
“Yao Yao, I will take it seriously.” Perhaps tinged with desire, this address of “Yao Yao” was excessively tender.
Whether Nangong Yi had been aroused by her seduction, Song Yao didn’t know, but she had certainly been aroused again herself. Though feeling somewhat guilty, she quickly regained her confidence.
Her hand caressed the back of the man’s neck as she deliberately pitched her voice to sound docile: “What is Your Highness saying? Every word from this humble servant comes from the heart.”
Craving his masculine charm and his physique also counted as wanting him, right? Well, how could it not?
Da Yuan had liberal social customs—though palace attire was dignified, it didn’t necessitate being fully covered. Nangong Yi bit the fragrant shoulder of the beauty in his arms, exposed to the air, eliciting a soft, coquettish gasp from her.
Nangong Yi chuckled and compensated by licking the bite mark, making him seem even more like a wild beast.