Chu Yin watched Yu Jiao’s earlobes turn a deep crimson, the color deepening into a delicate red.
He wondered if pressing them might make them bleed.
Lost in thought, he reached out and rubbed them. Soft, so soft, almost like cotton.
A curve of a smile formed on his lips, faint and fleeting, disappearing in an instant.
What was he smiling at?
His thoughts went haywire.
He withdrew his hand and raised his tone, sneering, “You’ve got quite the imagination!”
Yu Jiao froze for a moment, then suddenly lifted her head, intending to glare at him. But when her eyes met his dark gaze, she faltered, quickly blinking. “Prince, how do you think my flirty eyes look?”
As long as she blinked fast enough, he couldn’t tell she was trying to glare.
“Hideous.” Chu Yin instinctively turned his eyes away, his voice dripping with disdain. After a while, hearing no movement in his arms, he grew curious and lowered his head slightly.
Yu Jiao smiled at him, her gaze making him uneasy. Awkwardly, he asked, “What are you smiling at?”
“Prince, your ears are red.”
Chu Yin instinctively wanted to touch them, then realized she was watching him. His hand froze and withdrew, resting instead on her collarbone.
The gentle rise there trembled slightly under the calloused pads of his fingers.
She didn’t scream, nor did she beg like the women before her.
Why was she different from them?
For the first time, he felt he couldn’t quite read this little rabbit.
He had looked forward to seeing the women kneel and beg, wondering if she would behave the same way—but she didn’t.
Yu Jiao instinctively resisted the touch. The roughness of his fingers made her heart flutter; she wanted to move away but forced herself to stay.
After a moment, Chu Yin noticed a faint mark near her jaw. Bored, he lazily withdrew his hand.
Yu Jiao pretended to remain calm and continued her movements. She thought, since her top had already been torn apart, maybe the pants should go too.
Chu Yin looked down at her, his disdain growing.
“Tsk, you don’t even know how to take off clothes properly.”
She muttered under her breath, “I would if you changed the style.”
Yu Jiao paused after speaking. “Change the style?”
Her eyes lit up, looking at him with hope. She remembered that there was a Tailor’s Shop in the Yu family’s store.
Excited, she asked, “Prince, isn’t there a Tailor’s Shop in the Yu family’s property? Can you include it in the one-tenth that’s mine?”
Her eyes were wide and bright, sparkling like lanterns—but he wanted nothing more than to snuff out that light.
Without a second thought, he refused: “No.”
He didn’t understand why she was so excited about a Tailor’s Shop. Didn’t she already have a batch of clothes made by Ying Feng? She loved food and jewelry, why not want other things?
Was it that she didn’t like new clothes?
He gritted his molars. Ying Feng would be punished heavily.
Before he could speak, Yu Jiao’s eyes dimmed, the sparkle slowly shrinking until it vanished.
Her expression oppressed him, annoyed him.
“Smile.” He spoke abruptly.
Yu Jiao blinked, stunned. “Huh?”
“Smile, and I’ll consider it.” Chu Yin lifted his chin lazily, watching her.
He only said he would consider it; he didn’t promise. If she insisted, he could set conditions. What condition should he set?
How about forbidding her from leaving him for life? That sounded good.
Lost in thought, he was suddenly bumped. Yu Jiao had lunged at him, hugging him tightly, her head rubbing against him restlessly.
She lifted her head, eyes shining as if they contained the entire galaxy, her joy overflowing. She bounced twice in his arms, hitting her head on his chin.
“Prince, Prince! Prince, you agreed?! Prince, you’re the best!”
Chu Yin was caught off guard. The bump to his chin sent a shiver through him—how could it… feel a little pleasant? The places where she rubbed against his chest tingled, heated his skin, making his heart race.
But when had he agreed? He had only said he would consider it, and he hadn’t even thought of the conditions yet.
Yu Jiao bounced again, planting a light kiss where she had bumped him, her voice rising a notch. “Prince! Thank you, Prince! I like you the most!”
She clung to him again.
Watching her restless head, Chu Yin reached out and smoothed her hair.
Hmm. She smiled… well enough. That would count as agreement.
Conditions? He’d deal with them later—he still had a pile of property deeds in his hands.
Yu Jiao was ecstatic, clinging and rubbing against him for quite a while before letting go. Even when Chu Yin teased her for being silly, she laughed without retort.
When he removed her clothes, he saw a wound at her waist, less shocking than the first time.
The cut wasn’t deep but left a layer of blood, as if it had just been made before he pulled back his hand.
Rumor said the Prince of Yan acted solely on whims and desires, unpredictable, ruthless—but no one mentioned his martial prowess.
Chu Yin silently watched her frown at the wound, touched for a moment.
She, too, found it dirty.
Whenever she saw blood, she couldn’t stop, and he had a secret: he not only liked the color of blood but the sensation of a blade piercing flesh. Watching it flow made him feel cleansed, not as filthy as Mother Consort claimed—no longer dirty to the bone, no longer even dirty in blood.
That afternoon, he had tortured people intentionally, making them wield blades at him—but when they charged, he remembered the little rabbit. Would she be afraid? Would she find it filthy?
He had a selfish hope: to see if she would not mind, even a little.
Then, once the cut bled, he stopped the blade.
Yu Jiao, without looking up, asked, “Prince, your martial skills… how strong are they?”
Chu Yin paused, a self-deprecating smile curling on his lips. Was it because his skills were so strong that others barely injured him?
So, what was his little selfish hope expecting?
He answered casually, “Not high.”
“Prince,” Yu Jiao whispered. Chu Yin stiffened, afraid she would say something he didn’t want to hear.
“Then next time, if we can’t win, can we run? We can fight back when your skills improve.”
Chu Yin froze, unable to respond immediately.
Yu Jiao looked at the wound, wanting to touch it but afraid it would hurt. She paused mid-air. “Running isn’t shameful. Being hurt is painful.”
She leaned down and blew gently on the wound. When she was a child and scraped her knees, the neighbor’s grandmother had done the same.
“Blow on it, and it won’t hurt anymore.” Yu Jiao looked up and smiled at him.
Chu Yin lowered his head. Somehow… it really didn’t hurt. His heart didn’t ache either.
Hmph. Such dirty blood, and suddenly he didn’t want to dirty her.
He pushed her head away, grumbling, “Fool.”