If you miss me, just call out ‘Brother Yu’…
Mei Yao stood by the window, meeting his gaze. A hint of mischief flickered in her beautiful eyes as she raised her hand to close the window.
But just as her fingers brushed the window frame, his figure had already flashed to the window.
A pair of large hands seized her delicate chin, not allowing her to retreat, as he leaned down and pressed toward her.
Mei Yao felt a sudden warmth on her lips, instantly enveloped by that familiar and pleasant scent.
He easily pried open her teeth, invading and plundering wantonly, kissing her fiercely and urgently, with a strong sense of violation and punishment. As if still unsatisfied with the depth, he leaned half his body through the window, his warm, dry palms cradling her tender cheeks, forcing her to tilt her head and accept him. His breathing grew ragged, heavy gasps mingling with the sound of their lips and teeth entwining as he greedily savored the sweetness of her mouth, sucking and biting as if determined to break this unruly flower.
Mei Yao could barely stand, forced to rise on her tiptoes to endure his domineering kiss. Her hand, resting on the window frame, instinctively clung to his arms, though she lacked the strength to grip them. Amid his rough panting and the sounds of their entangled lips, a familiar yet shameful surge of desire washed over her body, and a soft, low moan escaped her lips.
The sound seemed to finally satisfy him. The storm-like kiss suddenly slowed, but he did not leave her tender lips, instead pressing against them as he took deep, ragged breaths, his voice hoarse as he asked, “Missed me?”
It took Mei Yao a moment to realize what he was saying.
Now, his eyes held a trace of wanton amusement, his thin lips—just moments ago wreaking havoc—were red, moist, and curved into a charming arc. His handsome face was filled with desire.
“You’re so wicked!”
She pushed his arm away, her face flushed crimson, and shot him a glare with her damp, peach-blossom eyes before turning to close the latticed window.
Yan Yu watched her with a smile, finally feeling the frustration in his heart ease slightly.
He strolled to the door and gave it a gentle push—it wasn’t locked.
Mei Yao sat with her back to him, fuming. “Breaking into the Mei residence at night again! You’ve become quite familiar with the way here, haven’t you?”
“Didn’t you miss me? So I came!” He closed the door naturally, approached her, and pulled her into his arms from behind.
Mei Yao turned around but didn’t break free from his embrace, pouting as she said, “Which of your eyes saw me missing you?”
Her robes were loose, and Yan Yu’s lowered gaze caught a glimpse of the alluring scenery beneath her collar. The cherry-red thin strap teased him, making his hands and heart itch with the urge to tug it loose.
He gripped her slender, soft waist and pressed her closer to him, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of her neck, his voice husky as he whispered, “Every part of you is saying you missed me.”
Like an intimate whisper between lovers, it made Mei Yao’s heart pound like a drum.
She pushed against his firm chest, gazing into those deep, phoenix-like eyes shimmering with desire, and murmured dreamily, “And what about you?”
He curled his lips into a smirk, playfully thrusting against her as he asked, “What do you think?”
Mei Yao’s face flushed red.
She shifted away slightly, deliberately picking up his earlier words. “It’s just a normal reaction. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then why did you ask?”
She looked at his unruly expression, broke free from his encircling arms, and took two steps back, her tone turning somewhat cold. “If you have no feelings for me, then return my handkerchief.”
He fell silent for a moment, staring intently at her as if trying to discern something.
Then, his large hands grasped her arms, and with a gentle tug, she fell back into his embrace.
“Are you angry?” He held her close, lowering his gaze and speaking softly, his tone carrying a gentle, coaxing tenderness.
Mei Yao suppressed the bitterness in her heart and said, “Why should I be angry? I’m not anyone to the general…”
He raised an eyebrow with a smile. “Are you asking me for a title?”
It was meant as a joke, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he noticed the dimming light in the eyes of the person in his arms.
He suddenly remembered two years ago, when he was severely wounded and withdrawn from the southern battlefield. She had taken him in without hesitation to nurse him back to health. He had been unconscious for several days, and she had cared for him throughout. In his dazed state, he seemed to hear her murmuring softly by his ear: “Brother Xiao Yu, I’ve already called you Brother Xiao Yu. Why do you still think I’m toying with you? What kind of master would lower herself just to tease a servant? I’m sincere. I know you don’t care about titles, but I don’t lack servants. I’m not looking for a husband—I only want you. It’s me who wants to ask you for a title…”
And that title, he never gave it to her, even until his “death.”
And before his “death,” he had even lost his temper with her, making her face flush red and her eyes grow moist.
He tightened his embrace, leaned down, and kissed her—gentle and lingering, carrying a hint of compensatory apology.
Mei Yao struggled to push him away, her eyes red with a touch of grievance. “Don’t kiss me… Give me back my handkerchief!”
He caught his breath for a moment, then pulled out the handkerchief embroidered with pavilion pink from his pocket. “This?”
Mei Yao reached out to snatch it, but the man raised his hand, and she missed.
He chuckled. “I’ve used it.”
“I know!” Mei Yao continued to grab for it.
Yan Yu seized her small, struggling hand and pulled her back into his embrace, his voice hoarse. “You didn’t understand. I said I’ve used it, but not on the day of the inner banquet…”
“You used it… for what?”
Mei Yao stared into his mischievous phoenix eyes, confused yet sensing it was nothing good.
He took her small hand and pressed it against himself, his voice husky. “I. Used. It.”
Mei Yao widened her eyes at him. How could he say such crude things without blushing or his heart racing, yet below…
She glanced at the handkerchief in his hand, feeling a mix of emotions.
After a moment of hesitation, she said, “You still have to return it. A woman’s private item shouldn’t remain in the hands of an unrelated person!”
Yan Yu’s brow darkened. “An unrelated person?”
“Isn’t that right?”
He tightened his hold on her, one hand slipping into the back of her collar. His index finger looped twice around the cherry-red ribbon and gave it a gentle tug. Mei Yao felt the ribbon of her undergarment loosen as he undid it.
He took a step and sat on the bed, pulling her onto his lap. Burying his face against her chest, he exhaled deeply and said slowly, “Then what would make us related?”
As he spoke, her robe belt was also undone. A large hand slipped inside, replacing the fallen undergarment and sending shivers through her body. He seemed to do it on purpose, pressing her even closer.
Tense all over, she pushed against him, her watery eyes pleading helplessly. “General Yan, please… let me go…”
He buried his face against her, breathing heavily. “Not that title.”
Before him lay a breathtaking sight. His dry, warm hand slowly explored its territory. Mei Yao felt all her strength draining away, an unusual tingling sensation spreading from his touch. Helplessly, she braced herself against his shoulders, her thoughts muddled as she followed his lead. “Then… what should I call you…?”
“Figure it out yourself.”
The delicate body beneath his palm was so sensitive. Though she was tense all over, her jade-like legs tightly clamped on either side of his thighs, everywhere his hand touched was soft—fragrant and supple. He was painfully swollen, unable to resist applying more pressure with his hand. Mei Yao let out a pained, delicate cry, which only tormented him further.
“Haven’t you thought it over yet? If you call me wrong again, I’ll have to punish you…”
Wasn’t this already punishment? Instinctively, she wanted to call him “Brother Xiao Yu,” but she suddenly realized he didn’t acknowledge it. Calling him that would likely invite even harsher “punishment.”
Then she’d just drop the “Xiao.”
But the thought of Princess Zhaohua, affectionately calling him “Brother Yu” over and over, inexplicably soured her mood. Stubbornly, she retorted, “I won’t call you that. If you want to hear it, go find Zhaohua!”
Though spoken in defiance, her voice came out soft and velvety, tinged with a slight tremble. To Yan Yu, it sounded oddly soothing. He lifted his gaze to her flushed, delicate face, her eyes hazy with moisture yet hiding anger and grievance, and murmured softly, “Jealous?”
“No!” She turned her head away, refusing to look at him.
Suddenly, he buried his face and bit down!
“Ah—” The intense sensation sent a shiver through her, leaving her weak and slumped against him.
“Stubborn!” He released her, then gently kissed the fragrant softness, coaxing and enticing, “Don’t worry, she won’t dare call me that anymore… So, say it for me?”
Mei Yao hadn’t yet recovered from the shock, too overwhelmed to ponder the meaning behind his words. She only gasped heavily, offering no response.
He looked up, “Be good, call me ‘Brother Yu’…”
“No!” She despised Zhaohua and refused to imitate her.
“Such a naughty girl!”
His hand suddenly slipped lower, a faint smile curling his lips, “Even like this, you still dare to be stubborn?”
“Don’t say that.”
Mei Yao hurriedly tried to cover his mouth, but her hand was caught in his grasp.
He held her soft, boneless little hand and kissed it gently, coaxing, “Do you want it? If you do, call me ‘Brother Yu’…”