Chapter 101
Suddenly, Ning Yi flipped his hand over and pressed down on her hair.
“Ouch,” Feng Zhiwei called out lightly, her hand reflexively patting his as she freed her hair. “Behave.”
She spoke quietly and warmly, a hint of a smile on her face. She wore her usual gentle and soft expression, but there was just a little bit more thoughtfulness and care. Ning Yi suddenly felt as if tiny candle was lit inside his cold heart, a soft enduring light.
Ning Yi turned away, shuffling underneath the quilt and quickly dressing. Finally presentable, he turned and carefully examined the room, his eyes falling dark as he asked: “What are you burning?”
A frown crossed his face as he continued: “You touched her things?”
“I only know what you needed.” Feng Zhiwei replied without turning to face him, seemingly oblivious to the unhappiness in his voice. “No matter how valuable a treasure is, it is not as important as a life.”
Ning Yi fell silent, his eyes roaming over the room. Finally, he spoke again, sad and quiet: “Everything is still the same...”
Wind blew in through the window, sending a shivering sneeze through the still soaked Feng Zhiwei. Stuck in her wet dress, Feng Zhiwei could pay no attention to Ning Yi’s melancholy grief for the turning of the leaves and passing of seasons.
Ning Yi rubbed gently at his chest before taking a pill out of his robe and swallowing it. As Feng Zhiwei sniffled, Ning Yi stirred, hesitating a little as he said: “You can take those curtains and burn them.”
“You’re willing?” Feng Zhiwei replied, turning back to peer at him teasingly.
“I just don’t want you sniffling throughout the feast and giving yourself away.” Ning Yi sat up, covering himself with the quilt, his expression indifferent.
This guy could never speak his heart, and Feng Zhiwei paid no mind to his foolishness. She turned back to the fire pan and stirred the heat higher when the man behind her called out: “Pull it closer to the bed.”
He was really treating her as his servant girl?
But though she complained inside, the young, habituatedly double-faced lass Feng smiled and dragged the fire pan over.
“Come here for a second.” Ning Yi commanded again in the same indifferent tone.
Feng Zhiwei walked over and sat on the bed’s edge.
The man beside her pulled back the quilt and commanded again in the same tone: “Come, you can have a side.”
Feng Zhiwei immediately shot to her feet and replied: “I have to go comb my hair.”
But the man beside her gently grabbed her waist, and though he used no Internal Qi, his expert grappling technique slid through Feng Zhiwei’s resistance and her whole body softened as he dragged her down into the warmth of the bed.
While her heart pounded and her body stiffened into an unmoving pole, Feng Zhiwei smiled fawningly, pulling on the claw clutching her: “Your Highness, men and women cannot be so intimate.
“I have no plans to be intimate with you.” The man replied, his cool, gorgeous musk filling her nose, the intoxicating smell tinged with the faint fragrance of herbs — his smell was powerful and refreshing, as enduring as his refusal to release Feng Zhiwei’s waist. Even as she tried her best to pull away, she was slowly and inexorably pulled closer and closer, inch by inch. “Do you think you are so pretty that I will lose control?”
Feng Zhiwei clung to the bed’s edge, thinking for a moment before replying: “I think I am.”
The man beside her coughed, choking at her audacity, ignoring her struggles and directly paralyzing her with a pinch of her acupuncture point. As he stuffed her under the quilt, he spoke angrily. “How can you dry off while wearing your dress like that? I’m not even bothered by you getting me wet, what are you frowning about.”
“I’m frowning at you.” Feng Zhiwei glared angrily, her calm demeanor evaporating. “This is how you treat your savior? How will I marry in the future?”
“Marriage?” Ning Yi replied, the anger on his face suddenly mixed with complicated emotions. He smiled coldly as he continued speaking. “So you really are dreaming of becoming Prince Hu Zhuo’s wife.”
“Luckily it isn’t Prince Chu’s Wife.” Feng Zhiwei replied, smiling even more facetiously.
Ning Yi glared at her for a long moment before suddenly bursting out in laughter. After he finished his chuckle, he paid no more attention to her protests and stripped her out of her dress.
Feng Zhiwei could only lie paralyzed, misery coming over her as she thought back to Master Dong Guo’s story[1] and the similarities between this Prince Chu and that traitorous wolf.
But she also knew that she was getting her due, as the prince was clearly taking his revenge. Retribution had come so swiftly, and if she had known better, she would have left him some underwear to hid his embarrassment.
Women’s clothes are more troublesome, so it took Ning Yi some time to remove the outer layer of her dress and take it to the fire to dry. When he turned back from the flame, Feng Zhiwei was squeezing her eyes shut, her mouth moving as she muttered something to herself.
As he leaned in to listen, he made out her mantra: “He’s a eunuch he’s a eunuch he’s a eunuch...”
Ning Yi could only glare at the infuriating smile on this exasperating tigress, and half of him wanted to just slap down and end his torment once and for all.
But as he stared, the words seemed to fade away and soon all he saw was the adorable face of the woman lying beside him. The faint blush in her cheeks set off the soft, downy white of her jade smooth skin, and her lips was a shade of intoxicating red that could almost block out the infuriating words coming from her beautiful mouth.
Those mumbling lips needed a break.
Ning Yi leaned down.
Fresh, sweet lips met and the taste was like a million seasons of spring. That first touch was electrifying, and Ning Yi knew immediately that any more and he would lose himself, but he could not resist pressing in further through those lovely lips.
Perhaps he really had just planned to stop her murmuring words, or perhaps he had thought to bully this prickly rose of a woman, but as soon as he felt that soft, worldly warmth, he surrendered to his desires, a weary traveler who had finally reached a safe haven of rest.
In his twenty-three years of worldly bitterness, he had never tasted such sweetness, and now he could no longer control himself and all he wanted was to luxuriate in her intoxicating smell. His fingers reached firmly into her hair and cupped the back of her head as his other hand pulled her closer to him; and all the while, he pushed deeper and deeper into her, mixing and entangling their taste forever.
Rain poured in a pattering flood, but the two bodies were pressed together without room for escape, close enough to hear each other’s heavy breathing.
Beside them, the fire crackled and sent a spark into the air.
The tiny flower of flame bloomed in the dim room like an enormous firework startling the bedfellows from their drunken trance, and Ning Yi’s eyes shone clear as the mist fell away. He pulled back, turning away.
As he moved, he gently rubbed his chest, coughing lightly before wiping away the faint redness on his lips.
His wound was torturing him, and the medicine was overpowering — he had almost lost control.
Feng Zhiwei’s chest trembled with her rising breath and the flush in her face betrayed her. She was still paralyzed from the acupuncture strike, so she could only glare up at the bed curtain, picturing that person’s face and trying with all her might to burn it with her stare.
She no longer needed the fire; at this point, the heat of her skin was enough to dry the dress.
Ning Yi calmed himself and pulled a little further away, but when he finally turned around and saw Feng Zhiwei’s calm face and ferocious eyes, he could not help laughing.
[1] 东郭先生与狼