The night was tranquil, and a gentle breeze slipped through the crack in the door, causing the sheer curtains in the room to sway and dance in alluring arcs.
Su Tuan’er glanced toward the soft couch in the outer chamber. Everything appeared calm, but she knew that tonight, countless eyes were fixed on Chang’an Dian, their owners unable to sleep a wink.
When dawn broke, a violent storm would be waiting for her.
So, if she wanted to survive in the palace by any means necessary, she had to cling to a powerful patron.
With that thought, she cast another glance at the soft couch in the outer chamber.
In her estimation, Gu Yanbei was a fine patron to latch onto. She felt it was imperative that she do something about it.
With this in mind, she wrapped herself in her brocade quilt and tiptoed out of bed.
“Your Majesty, your finger is bleeding. Let me tend to it.”
Su Tuan’er walked to the soft couch and spoke in a soft voice.
For a long while, Gu Yanbei remained silent, leaving her only the cold, solitary view of his back.
“Your Majesty isn’t saying anything, so I’ll take that as your consent.”
Su Tuan’er scurried over to the cabinet, retrieved the medicine box she had prepared, scurried back, and pulled up a stool to place beside the soft couch.
“Give me your hand.”
She tilted her head to look at the man on the couch.
The man remained silent. Su Tuan’er could only see the back of his handsome head. She pressed her hand to her forehead like a fairy in distress—this stubborn, prideful man!
If gentleness wouldn’t work, she’d have to resort to force.
She picked up the medicine box and stepped onto the couch.
The couch wasn’t particularly narrow, and since Gu Yanbei was lying on his side, and Su Tuan’er was petite, there was just enough room for her.
“What are you doing?!”
Seeing her climb onto the couch, Gu Yanbei finally reacted.
He turned over and sat up, frowning at the person before him, his gaze cold beyond words.
“I’m treating Your Majesty’s wound,” Su Tuan’er blinked her moist, sparkling eyes. “If the wound gets infected, your finger will swell and ooze pus. If the infection is severe, you might even lose the finger.”
“Do you know what losing a finger means? It means—snip—it gets cut off!”
She spread her fair, slender palm in a serious manner and made a chopping gesture, deliberately putting on a stern face to impress upon him the gravity of the matter.
Gu Yanbei’s brow twitched violently.
Before he could say anything, his hand had already been seized by Su Tuan’er, who buried her head in tending to it.
He instinctively wanted to pull his hand back, but then, as if remembering something, he refrained.
“Such a long cut—it must hurt so much. Your Majesty, please don’t hurt yourself like this again.”
Su Tuan’er thought that if she had been cut like that, she would have cried several times over. But Gu Yanbei hadn’t even furrowed his brow at the time, as if he couldn’t feel the pain at all.
Blood was still seeping from the wound. If she didn’t treat it, infection was only a matter of time.
Gu Yanbei lowered his gaze, staring at the head bobbing before him, his thin lips pressed into a straight line. His eyes fell on her bruised wrist, and his half-lidded phoenix eyes held an emotion that others couldn’t quite read.
It seemed like scrutiny, like wariness, and yet also like a host of unanswered questions.
Soon, Su Tuan’er finished treating the wound—she disinfected it and applied hemostatic powder.
The powder settled on his fingertip, cool and soothing, with no trace of pain remaining.
“Your Majesty must avoid getting this wet until it scabs over. I’m off to sleep now—you should rest early too.”
Su Tuan’er put away the medicine box, wrapped herself in her quilt, and returned to her own bed.
Gu Yanbei raised his fingers and examined them for a moment, then lifted his gaze to look at Su Tuan’er, who was lying in bed wrapped up like a zongzi. He slowly lowered his eyelids halfway, veiling the complex emotions in his eyes…