The Spring Ploughing Ritual was approaching, the season when people tailored new clothes to honor the Silk Goddess. Song Nanqing was dissatisfied with every garment sent by the Imperial Clothing Bureau. He complained that the styles were dated or the fabrics were too heavy. With the ritual nearly upon them, an event where the Emperor had to wear new robes to till the soil and sow seeds to pray for a good harvest, the clothes remained undecided. Song Nanqing was hard to please, and his bottom line was simple: he was going to leave the palace.
He had not left the palace since his excursion to meet Ruan Xianzhi. He spent his days reading memorials or novels. The fresh novels, which had been delayed by his recent incident, had finally been delivered to him by Chun Jian. Aside from The Romantic Censor and the Pretty Widow, there was a new work by Teacher Lv Wu: The Stray Puppy I Picked Up Transformed into a Human. It told the story of a scholar who rescued an abandoned stray dog on a rainy day, only to discover that the creature could transform into a man.
He was hooked.
However, Shen Heng had been acting strange lately. Song Nanqing felt the Regent was colder toward him than before; he had even stopped helping him apply his face cream. This would not do. He still needed Shen Heng to fall in love with him so he could use the man to achieve his own ends. Today, he insisted on leaving the palace because books claimed that special environments sparked different kinds of chemistry, and the greatest danger to lovers was losing their sense of novelty. Although they were not lovers, the logic seemed sound enough.
Shen Heng could not refuse him and eventually agreed to accompany him.
The sun was bright, and the bustling streets of the capital were crowded. Two men walked into a shop side by side, close enough to brush shoulders. Their upright posture and grace made them a sight that was comfortable just to behold.
Shen Heng had styled Song Nanqing’s hair that morning. It cascaded like silk, emitting a faint luster. The elegant green of his robes complemented the spring atmosphere and highlighted his radiant face. Without a trace of makeup, his skin was flushed with a natural, healthy glow. His youthful innocence and alluring charm were intertwined, drawing every eye the moment they stepped inside.
Yet, because of the tall man’s immense, oppressive presence, any gaze that lingered too long on Song Nanqing was met with a deep, piercing look. Shen Heng’s eyes were like a blade submerged in water, gentle on the surface but sharp within, filled with the possessiveness of someone who had already claimed his prize. His indifferent sweep across the crowd intimidated most people into looking away.
Song Nanqing was oblivious to the tension, reveling in the fact that Shen Heng had agreed to go shopping with him. It had taken much pestering to get the man to comb his hair; Shen Heng had lectured him about growing up and doing things for himself. Song Nanqing refused to acknowledge he was grown up. If an Emperor grew up, he would take control of the government and become a threat to the Regent. Song Nanqing interpreted such talk as Shen Heng testing him, so he acted like a spoiled child until the man finally relented.
The shopkeeper immediately beamed when he saw them enter. “Young Master Nan, it has been a while. I have kept the styles and fabrics you like aside. Please, follow me to the second floor.”
Song Nanqing lifted his chin, patted Shen Heng’s sleeve, and commanded, “Hurry up and follow me to carry the clothes.” With that, he scurried upstairs.
Shen Heng revealed a faint, subtle smile and followed. His steady pace and relaxed demeanor made him look anything but a servant tasked with carrying bags.
In the largest room on the second floor, Song Nanqing held up several ready-to-wear garments against his body. “Teacher, which one looks better?”
A massive bronze mirror stood against the wall. Light filtered through the ornate flower-patterned windows, casting colorful shadows that gilded the youth in a layer of gold. His very strands of hair seemed to glow. Under the sunlight, the shimmering cloud-brocade looked magnificent.
Shen Heng sat on a mahogany carved chair cushioned with silk, watching the exquisite fabrics displayed in the cabinets. With the fragrance of tea filling the air and a beauty in new clothes before him, even a man as disciplined and ascetic as he felt a rare moment of peace.
He took a sip of flower tea, shifted his gaze from Song Nanqing to the colorful dresses for women on the other side, and replied, “Qingqing looks good in everything.”
Song Nanqing puffed out his cheeks and spat out two words: “Perfunctory answer!”
Shen Heng raised an eyebrow slightly.
The screen behind them was carved with pink peach blossoms and bamboo leaves. Song Nanqing went behind the screen to change. Fumbling with the ribbons and ties, he remembered the novel about the puppy turning into a human and frowned, asking Shen Heng, “I don’t really know how to tie these ribbons. How does it work?”
Hearing this, Shen Heng walked to the side of the screen and stepped right inside.
Song Nanqing was trying to untangle a knot he had made. The space was tight, and now another person had squeezed in, especially while he was in a state of undress.
“Let me see.” Shen Heng was entirely natural. He reached out, hooked the ribbons at Song Nanqing’s waist, and tied them symmetrically.
The closeness of his presence was overwhelming. Song Nanqing felt as if he were being enveloped. When Shen Heng’s fingers brushed the inner thighs while adjusting the ties, the touch sent sparks through his skin.
Remembering the sensation and memories associated with those hands, Song Nanqing’s breathing hitched.
“I can do it now.” He reached out to push against Shen Heng’s chest, trying to increase the distance.
Shen Heng slowly tied every ribbon securely before grabbing Song Nanqing’s wrist. “Still think I’m being perfunctory?”
“Hmph!” Song Nanqing darted out from his arms and stood before the mirror to admire the outfit.
It had a base of pale pink and goose-yellow, intertwined with red flowers and green leaves. The sheer, translucent gauze looked like a spring garden. The fit was just right, not too cluttered, and the outer sheer robe cast a misty veil over the garden beneath.
“Beautiful. No one else could wear this a fraction as well as Qingqing,” Shen Heng stood behind him, arms crossed, observing Song Nanqing spinning in the mirror like a butterfly.
Sometimes, overly beautiful clothes overpowered the wearer, but only someone as vibrant as Song Nanqing could hold his own.
The boy was delighted by the compliment. He hummed smugly and hopped to the rack to pick out more. “This, this, and this, I want them all.”
“Even this?” Upon reaching the corner, Song Nanqing stopped short. He had stumbled upon a rack of women’s clothing, ranging from skirts to undergarments.
Shen Heng appeared at his side, watching him with amusement.
Song Nanqing pursed his lips, a seductive glint in his eyes. He toyed with the ribbon hanging from his robe, looking up at Shen Heng through half-lidded eyes. “If Teacher wants to see them, I might.”
As the sun climbed higher, Song Nanqing sat on the first floor eating a candied hawthorn skewer, waiting for Shen Heng to finish paying.
The shop catered to luxury, so it was filled with young women. They watched the tall, handsome man buy so much without blinking. He was wealthy, generous, and dashingly elegant, a rare find, even if he looked a bit unapproachable.
Song Nanqing had been in a great mood, but seeing the women inching closer to Shen Heng and whispering while sizing him up, he suddenly felt a surge of irritation.
He walked over, hooked his arm into Shen Heng’s, and leaned his entire weight against his shoulder. Mimicking the flirtatious tone of a courtesan from the Fengqi Building, he whined, “Why are you so slow? Do you not want to buy clothes for me anymore?”
Shen Heng, who had just put down the silver, felt as if he had been stuck by a piece of sticky candy.
“You know, Milord, your status is too high to marry easily, but you promised to take me as a concubine after I’ve served you for so long. You can’t just cast me aside after having your way with me.”
The Fengqi Building Courtesan Training Guide had finally come in handy. The little beauty, dressed to the nines, looked coquettish and alluring, feigning a mix of innocence and seduction.
“Milord, I know people have been arrested for debauchery lately, but Qingqing has already turned over a new leaf! You can’t abandon me just because you’re afraid of gossip. Your fortune was all built on my earnings, are you really going to be this stingy about buying me two sets of clothes?”
Hearing this, the surrounding women’s attitudes toward Shen Heng did a complete one-eighty, their faces filled with condemnation and disdain.
Shen Heng, hearing the boy’s increasingly absurd performance, grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him out of the shop, forgetting even to collect his change. Chun Jian and Zhuxin, who had been waiting at a distance, knew nothing of what had happened and scrambled after them, clutching the bags of clothes.
Ruan Xianzhi, who happened to be at the door, witnessed the entire farce. He saw Shen Heng dragging the boy away with an expressionless face.
Because of his angle, he only clearly saw Shen Heng. He did not see the other person’s face, but judging by that gaudy, affected manner, he knew it wasn’t the brave youth who had saved him in the alleyway.
When he saw the two kissing that day, he had felt sad, but helpless. If they were a devoted couple, it would be a blessing; after all, the Da Sheng dynasty was open-minded, and officials keeping male concubines was not rare. But seeing this today, the man was clearly not a devoted person, he had already found a new plaything to squander money on, and by the looks of it, the boy was no decent person either.
Ruan Xianzhi clenched his fists, feeling that the youth who had saved him deserved much better.
“Hahahahaha!”
Inside the carriage, uncontrollable laughter erupted from Song Nanqing. He laughed until he was rolling on Shen Heng’s lap, his candied hawthorn skewer trembling so hard it almost fell. He laughed until his hair came undone, his body heaving violently against Shen Heng’s legs.
“Teacher, your face looked so terrible, hahahaha! But don’t worry, I checked, those people were all just sheltered girls. Unless you intend to propose to them, you won’t run into them again.”
Song Nanqing explained with great empathy, offering the candy to Shen Heng’s lips. “Eat, Teacher, why aren’t you eating?”
His face was squeezed from both sides and lifted up. “Who taught you these things?” Shen Heng asked, pinching the boy’s soft, delicate cheeks.
Song Nanqing, still lost in his mirth, was startled. “What?”
Shen Heng leaned down, enunciating every word. “I said, didn’t you claim to be a child? What was that performance just now?”
Song Nanqing felt scorched by the heat in Shen Heng’s eyes. His heart turned numb, and something surged within him. He did his best to restrain it, lowering his eyes and shaking his head in silence.
A warm palm stroked his cheek. The carriage wheels rumbled rhythmically against the road.
“If you want to play the child, do it to the end. Otherwise, I can’t tell what you’re really trying to say, hmm?”
Boom. It was as if a thunderclap had struck Song Nanqing. His pupils constricted.
He kept his expression neutral, turned his head slightly, and replied calmly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Teacher.”
“It’s better if you don’t.”
Song Nanqing’s back stiffened. His expression cooled, and he slapped Shen Heng’s shoulder. “You pinched me!”
Shen Heng grabbed his wrist and said calmly, “Your temper is growing. Who spoiled you like this, hmm?”
Song Nanqing couldn’t break free. He sat on Shen Heng’s lap, swaying and throwing a tantrum, determined to get a hit in. “Whoever spoiled me knows it! My hand hurts, release the Emperor this instant! This is an act of lèse-majesté! Hey!”
They were too close. Their breath mingled. As he moved, they drew closer and closer. When he felt a strange sensation, he froze.
His long eyelashes fluttered in panic. Song Nanqing tried to back away slowly, but he had already made contact. No matter how he moved, it only made things worse. His face turned bright red in an instant.
“Don’t move.”
Shen Heng’s voice was hoarse. His hand on the boy’s waist tightened.
Song Nanqing’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed involuntarily. His position was too unfortunate; the thin fabric could not hide the scorching heat and distinct shape. His toes curled inside his socks, and he lowered his head, all his arrogance gone.
So hot.
But the next second, he was swept off his feet and moved to the other side of the carriage.
Song Nanqing looked up in a daze, only to find Shen Heng’s breathing labored, his chiseled jawline set, and his deep eyes burning with a flame.
The light, ragged gasps were almost inaudible, but Song Nanqing heard them clearly.
The air was still, save for the sound of the carriage grinding against the road.
Awkward, though he didn’t know why, it was awkward. Song Nanqing frantically looked for something to do, lowering his head to nibble on his candied hawthorn.
The translucent sugar coating crunched as he bit it, his wet, red tongue flicking out every now and then to circle the hawthorn, sweeping the fragments into his mouth. Reflective sugar shards clung to his tongue and lips, sticky and glistening.
Shen Heng closed his eyes.
“Is it good?” he asked, staring at Song Nanqing’s lips.
The gaze was more intense than before, probing and deeply inquisitive, as if peering into the depths of his soul.
Song Nanqing sensed danger and gave a sluggish nod, then shook his head. “Actually, it doesn’t taste as good as the ones made in the palace.”
“Let me taste.” Shen Heng leaned in.
There were two hawthorns left on the skewer. Song Nanqing held it out, but Shen Heng pushed it aside.
Shen Heng lifted his chin, staring at the sugar fragments on the boy’s lips. “Not that.”
A pink tongue poked out, licking the corners of his mouth unconsciously, only to be trapped under a finger.
The wet, slippery tongue was pressed and ground beneath the finger, folded and teased. The sensation of the tongue was disturbingly similar to other wet and slippery places, and Song Nanqing couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper.
They were so close their breath tangled. Song Nanqing twisted his fingers, trying to back away, but his neck was gripped, keeping him in place.
Wet lips and tongue flowed against the fingertips; saliva pooled and spilled out, like a child who couldn’t control himself.
“Mm, hnng.” Song Nanqing shook his head, struggling, but the back of his neck was gripped tight.
“Stick out your tongue,” Shen Heng commanded coldly.
The youth frowned, his eyes bright and moist, letting out a whimper of resistance.
“Are you still going to be my good little child?”
Song Nanqing couldn’t bear the threat and was forced to stick out his tongue. His rosy lips parted, the tip of his tongue protruding in a deeply suggestive gesture, though he was entirely oblivious to the implications.
Shen Heng used his index finger to tease the tip of his tongue, then pushed inside his mouth to scrape around. The wet, high-heat cavity engulfed his finger, and his tongue was pressed aside as he pushed deeper.
The mouth, now sore from the ordeal, was finally allowed to close. Song Nanqing pursed his lips, looking like a bullied child.
“That’s a good boy.”
A white handkerchief was pressed gently to his lips, wiping away the saliva. Shen Heng cleaned his finger and said calmly, “Shall we go to the Fengle Building for lunch? What do you want to eat? River shrimp or mandarin fish?”
The corners of Song Nanqing’s eyes were still red. He whispered, “I want both.”