After applying the ointment, Zong Zhengheng thought he could finally put his clothes back on.
But after a moment of silence behind him, suddenly, a warm, soft weight pressed against his back.
Zong Zhengheng’s eyes snapped open—
She was straddling his legs, facing him, so close they were almost touching.
For a moment, he nearly raised his hand to push her away but forcefully restrained himself.
He let her sit on him, let her warm, firm chest press against his, let her breath brush against his face.
Qiao Shuyi held his right cheek with one hand while the other rested on the side of his neck.
Then.
One gentle kiss after another fell on his slightly flushed cheeks.
Soft and lingering, unceasing.
After kissing him.
She lifted her head, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling:
“Zhi Gui, since I slapped your face earlier, tonight’s kisses are for your cheeks as compensation.”
“Now, it’s your turn to kiss me.”
Zong Zhengheng didn’t refuse.
They had already kissed yesterday, so why be coy today?
He lowered his head, about to cover her lips with his.
But just then—
Her palm blocked his lips.
He paused slightly, his eyes filled with confusion.
Qiao Shuyi blinked:
“My hand… it hurts from slapping you earlier, so Zhi Gui, you should kiss my hand too, as comfort.”
Hah.
She had hit him, yet it was her hand that hurt, and now she wanted him to comfort her.
Zong Zhengheng almost laughed in exasperation.
But under the flickering candlelight, her face grew even more enchanting, her eyes innocent and clear, as if they could draw a person in.
Her fingertip pressed against his lips, once, twice, thrice, like a silent urging or a teasing probe.
Zong Zhengheng was mesmerized.
“How should I kiss it?” His voice was low and hoarse, as if squeezed from the depths of his throat.
Qiao Shuyi waved her palm before his eyes.
“My palm… hurts.”
Zong Zhengheng cradled her hand and, just as she had kissed him earlier, placed gentle kisses on her palm.
“Mmm…”
Qiao Shuyi giggled softly, “That tickles…”
Her other hand, the one not held, threaded through his hair, her fingertips slipping into his dark locks.
Her expression was restless yet tinged with intoxication.
Zong Zhengheng felt a wicked fire surge from his abdomen, burning his throat tight and leaving his mouth parched.
After the time it took to drink a cup of tea.
He lifted his head, his eyes now deep and dark.
“Is that enough?” His voice was husky and low.
But Qiao Shuyi shook her head.
She raised the hand he had kissed and pressed her index fingertip against his lips, then—
Pushed it inside.
“Kiss here.”
Zong Zhengheng’s pupils dilated slightly.
He had never imagined kissing could be done this way.
The Fire-Avoidance Manuals he had seen before, the secret techniques taught by the instructing matrons, had never mentioned—sucking a woman’s fingertip into his mouth.
Even as an unfavored prince, it was always women who served him.
He was of noble blood, a descendant of dragons and phoenixes. Why would he need to learn such… such demeaning ways of kissing?
But he didn’t refuse.
Her fingertip pressed gently inside his mouth, and his tongue instinctively pushed against it, trying to push it away but instead tangling with it.
Fingertip and tongue, dancing together.
“Mmm…”
Qiao Shuyi’s body softened, leaning against his shoulder.
“Zhi Gui… Zhi Gui…”
Zong Zhengheng’s mind grew increasingly muddled with each call of his name.
He didn’t know what he was doing.
He only knew it started with the index finger, then the middle finger, the ring finger, the little finger—
One by one, tirelessly, ceaselessly.
The candlelight flickered, illuminating his lowered brows and eyes, and those gradually unfocused pupils.
He seemed to have fallen under a spell.
Until—
“Hiss—”
A sharp pain suddenly shot through his scalp.
It turned out Qiao Shuyi couldn’t hold back and tightly gripped his hair.
Zong Zhengheng snapped back to his senses.
Qiao Shuyi leaned against his shoulder, breathing softly, while he still held her fingertip in his mouth.
What was he doing?!
Zong Zhengheng’s mind went blank.
His Adam’s apple bobbed once, his voice hoarse as if scorched by strong tea and flames:
“Shushu… it’s time to rest.”
Her finger slipped from his lips.
Qiao Shuyi leaned limply against his shoulder, her chest rising and falling slightly, her breathing still unsteady. Her entire body seemed to have been drained of bones, melting into a pool of spring water.
“Alright… it is time to sleep.”
“But I have no strength left, Zhi Gui~”
Zong Zhengheng closed his eyes.
He took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing the surging heat in the pit of his stomach.
When he opened his eyes again, they had regained some clarity.
He gently lifted Qiao Shuyi, who was straddling him—
one hand supporting her back, the other cradling her buttocks, lifting her entirely into his arms.
He carried her to the bedside and laid her down.
Qiao Shuyi rolled into the blankets, nuzzling the pillow like a contented cat.
Zong Zhengheng also lay down, resting side by side with her.
Soon, Qiao Shuyi’s breathing steadied, clearly having fallen asleep.
But he couldn’t sleep.
He lay with his eyes open, staring at the canopy above.
His mind was a tangled mess.
Scenes from earlier flashed before his eyes. Although they hadn’t gone all the way, their intimacy felt even more intense than actual intercourse…
This madwoman was toxic.
Zong Zhengheng slowly turned onto his side, gazing at her peaceful sleeping face.
Then, his hand slowly rose.
His fingers spread, moving toward her neck.
With just a little force, he could kill her.
He wanted to kill her.
No one had ever dared to humiliate him like this.
No one had ever made him lose himself so completely.
His hand hovered over her neck, his knuckles tightening slightly.
Just then, Qiao Shuyi suddenly murmured in her sleep and turned over.
Her dark hair slipped down, covering half her face.
After a long moment, Zong Zhengheng slowly withdrew his hand.
It wasn’t time to kill her yet.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.
He had to gain access to the prince’s estate’s accounts as soon as possible and find evidence of Qiao Nanyu’s rebellion quickly.
He couldn’t keep playing this intimate game with this madwoman.
If he kept going—he…