He grabbed Yu Jiao’s wrist with one hand and looped the other around her waist, holding her slender side. His chin pressed against her shoulder as he leaned close to her ear, his tone rising: “Hmm?”
“Is it this mouth?”
The hand gripping her wrist now brushed over her lips, his narrow eyes leisurely observing her, his fingertips tracing lightly, almost imperceptibly.
“Or…”
The hand around her waist slid downward inch by inch like a spark being lit, stopping suddenly on her lower abdomen. He looked at her with interest and asked,
“This mouth?”
Yu Jiao tensed, startled, and cried out in a trembling voice, “Prince!”
Chu Yin lazily lifted his eyelids, glancing at her face with a faint, indifferent look.
“Your hands are cold, Prince. Let me warm them for you.” Yu Jiao grabbed the hand resting on her abdomen, pressing it tightly with both hands, exhaling softly. The skin he had touched felt like it had caught fire.
Her eyes were full of uncertainty, yet she clutched his hand tightly. Seeing her eyelashes tremble, Chu Yin tugged at the corner of his lips.
She clearly felt fear like everyone else, yet pretended to be calm.
It was amusing.
He let out a soft laugh, but the Gu worm inside him stirred restlessly. He immediately spat out another mouthful of blood.
Chu Yin’s eyes darkened. That poisonous Gu worm inside him was particularly annoying tonight.
Yu Jiao was frightened and quickly released his hand, using her sleeve to gently wipe the blood, dab by dab, soft and careful, until there was no more dripping.
She looked up at his face, pale and bloodless, the red clothing accentuating a faint sickly charm.
Chu Yin closed his eyes, forcing his breath to steady, suppressing the Gu inside him, enduring the metallic taste of blood in his throat.
Yu Jiao held his hand, moving it to her wrist without a sound, pausing for a few seconds, frowning. “Prince, your injuries are serious. I’ll go find someone right away.”
The next moment, his body suddenly pressed heavily against her, leaning fully on her shoulder.
“Prince!”
Yu Jiao’s heart jumped; she felt it rise to her throat. Only when a warm breath touched the back of her neck did she exhale in relief. If he had died silently on her, not even a mouthful of words could explain it.
“Don’t worry. this Prince, said dying on your bed doesn’t mean it happens now.” Chu Yin glanced at the hand holding his arm and slowly rose, using her strength to help.
He cast a casual glance at her earlobe, raising an eyebrow.
She had heard of rabbits with red eyes, but never red ears.
“Prince, you should tend to your injuries first.” Yu Jiao’s voice was tiny and soft, recalling the earlier pulse she had felt, her brow furrowed.
His pulse—it was the Gu worm.
If his injuries weren’t treated, the scent of blood would agitate it further.
He lifted his eyelids, eyes bloodshot, a faint smile on his lips, glancing sideways at her. “If I, die, wouldn’t that be just what you wish?”
He then strode toward the bed.
Yu Jiao lowered her head, deep in thought, then looked at his back with determination. “No, I won’t wish that.”
Chu Yin stiffened, turning to her with a trace of confusion in his gaze.
“If the Prince dies, then I’d be the one who brings bad luck instead of bringing joy, affecting any chance of remarrying… hmm… the situation’s not good.” Yu Jiao spoke with her youthful face, earnest eyes fixed on him.
Chu Yin paused, glanced at her secretly fidgeting fingers, and let out a light laugh.
Playful.
Poor acting.
Seeing him stop, Yu Jiao stepped forward cautiously, studying him, and grabbed a corner of his sleeve, tugging gently.
“Prince, can we tend to your injuries first?”
Chu Yin glanced down at himself, a pitiful sight, then at her—so clean he felt almost sinful.
He bent down, leaning close to her. Just as he nearly touched her face, he straightened suddenly, took her hand that held his sleeve, and used her fingertips to wipe the blood from his lips.
Only when every trace of blood had stained her hand did he release her.
Since she was his little rabbit, she would share the mess.
Yu Jiao stared at the blood on her hand, startled, until a long, pale hand extended to her. She finally reacted and helped him walk to the bed.
She didn’t understand his intentions, only rolling her eyes silently. Was wiping the blood really enough?
Chu Yin sat on the bed, head lowered, one hand loosely clenched before his mouth, suppressing himself with great effort.
“Here.” Yu Jiao rolled up her sleeve, showing her palm, soft and sweet, offering it to him.
He stared at her slender, fair fingers, then his face darkened. With a sneer, he forcefully swatted her hand away and lay down, back to her.
Who uses fingers to wipe blood?
Hmph. Boring.
Yu Jiao stared at the red mark on the back of her hand, puzzled, pouting, and muttered, “Such a strange temper.”
“Heh.” Chu Yin, without turning his head, spoke coldly, “People with strange tempers don’t like clapping—they like tearing bones to make ghostly lanterns.”
“…” She could even hear that in such a tiny voice? Yu Jiao moved her lips.
“Cursing this Prince in your mind?”
Yu Jiao drew in a sharp breath and pressed her lips tight.
She stepped toward the bed, took the bloodied hand, and thoughtfully wiped it clean with her sleeve, dab by dab.
Chu Yin’s eyes snapped open, his gaze darkened, watching her sleeve, stained with blood, turn the same deep red as his. Irrationally, he yanked his hand back.
A cold hum escaped him. “Meddling.”
Yu Jiao was momentarily stunned but continued to hold the hand, unsure how to act.
The man on the bed turned abruptly, bloodshot eyes fixed on her, impatient: “Didn’t you say you’d treat this Prince’s injuries? Not calling anyone—do you want this Prince to wait for death?”
“Uh? Oh… oh!” Yu Jiao nodded quickly, spinning around and running, following her memory toward the Prince’s Mansion gate.
Hidden in the shadows, Ying Feng and Ying Jue exchanged glances. Before the latter could speak, he was kicked, flying forward.
Yu Jiao jumped at the noise behind her, freezing, and found herself staring at the person rubbing their backside.
For a moment, the atmosphere was awkward.
Ying Jue sheepishly lowered his hands and cleared his throat. “Miss, where are you going? Need help?”
Yu Jiao’s eyes sparkled in shock. Could people in the Prince’s Mansion read minds?!
How did he know she wanted to help?
She nodded rapidly, like a pecking chick.
“Yes, yes. The Prince is injured. Someone must tend to his wounds.”
Ying Jue pointed a way. “We have the Imperial Physician here in the mansion. Over there.”
Though he could help, it was risky—better to let someone else do it.
Yu Jiao followed his direction, grateful. “Thank you, Big Brother!”
Ying Feng jumped out, placing a hand on Ying Jue’s shoulder, watching her small figure run. This new Princess Consort seemed a bit unusual.
Ying Jue lifted his foot, but Ying Feng suddenly said, “What if the Prince knew you called him ‘Big Brother’? How would he react?”
Ying Jue lowered his foot, grinning, patting him. “Feng, your hem is wrinkled.”
Soon, Yu Jiao came rushing in, holding someone by the hand.
Only when she reached the bed did she realize it was a man carrying a medicine box.
Yu Jiao guided him to sit on the chair by the bed, then looked back at Ying Jue. She paused, then exclaimed with joy, “Big Brother, you’re here too?”
The man on the bed lifted his eyelids, following her gaze. The two remained quietly hidden in the shadows.
Yu Jiao pressed the Imperial Physician’s hand and pointed at Chu Yin. “The Prince is injured.”
The physician wiped sweat from his brow and quickly placed a cloth on Chu Yin’s wrist to feel his pulse. Yu Jiao glanced at him, inwardly criticizing how delicate he was.
Soon, the Imperial Physician began explaining how to apply the medicine. Yu Jiao hadn’t reacted before a few patches of medicated plaster were stuffed into her hands. The physician picked up his medicine box, looking at her:
“Apply these to the Prince just like this.”