Jiang Zhinan had always spoiled A’ning.
Whatever the girl wanted to eat, to have, or to do—if it was within her power to grant—she would do it without hesitation. She doted on her as if A’ning was her own child.
But, there were still some things she simply couldn’t bring herself to agree to.
For instance—the matter of bathing.
Not to mention that she herself was filthy; even if A’ning didn’t mind, Jiang Zhinan still felt unbearably embarrassed.
And to have A’ning help her bathe? Just the thought alone made her cheeks burn.
“Put me down,” Jiang Zhinan murmured, her voice soft as she nestled in A’ning’s arms. Her face was flushed. “I can do it myself.”
Whether A’ning heard her or not, she gave no response. Her steady steps didn’t falter in the slightest.
A’ning had always been stronger than her, and now that she had grown taller and sturdier, Jiang Zhinan couldn’t break free no matter how she struggled.
She used all the strength she could muster, but it was useless. The steaming bath barrel drew closer and closer before her helpless eyes.
Had this all been prepared beforehand?
Jiang Zhinan was struck speechless. In desperation, she turned inward and begged her system for help.
“Of course I can help,” the system said brightly, producing an armful of ointments a moment later. “Which one do you want?”
Jiang Zhinan: “……”
“Honestly,” the system sighed dramatically, “you’d better choose one. Just in case something really does happen later, you’ll be glad you did. Wouldn’t want you feeling sore afterward.”
Jiang Zhinan pinched the bridge of her nose. “Is this advice based on your previous experience?”
The system nodded with great sincerity. “Yes, yes indeed.”
Jiang Zhinan let out a long sigh. One of these days, she thought darkly, I really need to find out what kind of past this ridiculous system has been through.
By the time the bath barrel was right before them, A’ning finally set Jiang Zhinan down—and immediately began to unfasten her clothes.
“I can do it myself,” Jiang Zhinan said quickly, catching her by the wrist. The two froze in a silent standoff.
“Be good,” A’ning coaxed gently. “There’s nothing to be shy about. After all, I’ve already seen your body before.”
“What?” Jiang Zhinan blinked, momentarily stunned.
Taking advantage of her shock, A’ning deftly slipped off the remaining layers—like peeling a clove of garlic—and lowered her carefully into the warm bathwater.
“I was just teasing you,” A’ning said with a soft laugh afterward.
Jiang Zhinan almost choked on air.
The water was pleasantly warm, and soon the room filled with misty steam. A sheen of sweat began to bloom across Jiang Zhinan’s delicate face.
A’ning handed her a cup to rinse her mouth, then took up a towel and gently wiped away the grime from her cheeks—her touch so light, so tender, that it was almost unreal.
Through the fog, Jiang Zhinan’s eyes glistened like a field of stars. The sight made A’ning’s heart ache with affection.
Smiling faintly, A’ning suddenly leaned down and brushed a kiss against the tip of her nose.
The kiss came without warning. Jiang Zhinan froze, her breath catching as her fingers gripped the edge of the barrel.
To help her mistress bathe, A’ning had already stripped down to a thin inner garment—three parts of it soaked through, clinging damply to her skin.
The wet fabric made her movements uncomfortable, so after a pause, she reached up and began to unfasten her own buttons.
“Don’t.” Jiang Zhinan realized something was wrong and started to protest, but before she could finish, A’ning’s lips pressed against hers. The words died in her throat.
A’ning’s strength and breath easily overpowered hers. The kiss left Jiang Zhinan dizzy and breathless, her lungs burning as though she might faint.
“I’ve missed you so much these past three years,” A’ning whispered against her ear, her voice soft as water. “I wonder, have you missed me too?”
“Still,” she continued, smiling through the mist, her tone full of tender sweetness, “I’m just glad I’ve found you again. You do know how much I love you, don’t you?”
“In the past, I wasn’t worthy of you,” A’ning murmured, her fingers sliding down to clasp Jiang Zhinan’s wrist. Her gaze darkened with unspoken longing. “But now—I don’t want to hold back anymore. Please, let me have you.”
Though the words sounded like a plea, Jiang Zhinan knew better.
This child wasn’t asking—she was informing her.
At the last possible moment, on the verge of tears, Jiang Zhinan silently reached for the ointment the system had offered.
By the time the bath was over, the water had long gone cold.
Even with the ointment’s effects, Jiang Zhinan’s whole body ached; her waist and legs felt weak, her limbs heavy and powerless.
A’ning, who had held back for years, had finally lost all restraint. Once she touched her beloved mistress again, there was no keeping her composure.
Jiang Zhinan had no idea how long it lasted—only that her tears had run dry and her throat was hoarse from crying.
Eventually, A’ning realized she had gone too far. She stopped, then gently wrapped Jiang Zhinan in a soft blanket and lifted her from the water, laying her tenderly upon the bed.
Jiang Zhinan was utterly spent. The moment her body touched the mattress, she curled up instinctively and drifted into sleep.
A’ning still had countless things she wanted to say, but seeing her like this, she only sighed softly. Then she lay down beside her, wrapping her arms lightly around her from behind.
“Sleep,” she whispered, her smile gentle and full of contentment.
After all, there was still so much time ahead.
From now on, she would stay by her mistress’s side—never to be parted again.
Sun Jin woke up early that morning.
It had been some time since the Emperor had entrusted him with this matter, and though he had worked tirelessly to track those two fugitives, there wasn’t the slightest trace of them anywhere.
Could they have vanished into thin air?
Sun Jin couldn’t make sense of it. Determined to expand his search, he resolved to turn the realm upside down if he had to—he would find them.
Stacks of reports lay before him, each submitted by his subordinates over the past few days. He flipped through them quickly, finding, as usual, nothing of value.
Scowling, he cursed under his breath and rose to berate his men.
But the moment he pushed open the door, a sharp whistle sliced through the air.
A trained martial man, Sun Jin reacted on instinct, sidestepping just in time. The object shot past him and embedded itself in the doorframe.
The attacker vanished in an instant, leaving no trace. With no one in sight, Sun Jin turned his attention to the object.
It was an arrow—its shaft pierced with a folded piece of paper.
Frowning, he pulled the arrow free and unfolded the paper. His expression tightened as his eyes fell upon the inked lines.
It was a portrait—of his old friend, Imperial Censor Ying Wanyan.
Who would send him something like this? What could it possibly mean?
Still puzzled, Sun Jin glanced lower—and froze.
Beneath the portrait, a name had been written.
Not Ying Wanyan—but someone else entirely.
“A’ning.” he read softly, a strange unease rising in his chest.