Chapter 85: Will You Walk On Your Own, Or Shall I Carry You Myself?

Zhao Yan still disliked taking medicine.

Perhaps the thought that Wenren Lin might take a tragic path because he rejected her suggestion made her feel so uneasy and distressed that it overshadowed the bitterness of the medicinal soup.

At this moment, she had no time to think too much. Her chaotic thoughts were kneaded and molded under his hands—she only wanted to be a burning flame, a surging river, to vent all the pent-up emotions with abandon.

Her long, ink-black hair spilled across the desk and cascaded down its edge. Shrouded in shadow, Zhao Yan was forced to open her eyes. In front of her was the man’s pale, jade-like face—thick brows and lashes, deep eyes. His usually cool and pale lips had been broken by her kiss, now tinged with a captivating flush.

The two were so close that Zhao Yan could clearly feel the cold hardness of the leather belt at his waist, causing her to tremble slightly.

“Your Highness has quite the aptitude,” she said.

Wenren Lin bent down and gently bit her flushed earlobe, with a deliberate, savoring intent. “Such a beautiful face—would it cry if it were suddenly overwhelmed?”

His voice was soft and mellow, yet his words were brazen. Zhao Yan felt her thin skin burning with a rush of heat.

Her hands were pinned by him, so she simply wrapped her legs around his strong waist, neither retreating nor yielding. She raised her slightly reddened eyes to glare at him, the tear-shaped mole beneath her eye vivid as blood.

Wenren Lin, entangled by her, smoothly undid his leather belt with one hand. At the sound of the jade buckle hitting the floor, Zhao Yan instinctively stiffened but forced herself not to show weakness.

“No crying, little princess. Understood?”

His low voice brushed against her ear. Zhao Yan opened her mouth, but before she could make a sound, it was completely silenced.

The heavy sandalwood desk scraped as it shifted, hard and unyielding. Wenren Lin, still locked in their kiss, lifted her effortlessly, stepping over the cloak that had slid to the floor, and strode toward the inner chamber’s moon gate.

Though his steps were steady, being carried in his arms was inevitably jostling. With her mouth still sealed, Zhao Yan could only frown and push at his shoulder, but it was like pushing against a wall—utterly futile.

And to think she was someone who had drawn a bow and practiced martial forms.

The wind and snow had stopped at some point. Incense from the desk wafted like clouds and mist.

Silver ash formed on the charcoal in the brazier, its purple-red flames flickering brightly then dimly. The lamplight waned, and warm fragrance lingered in the air.

This time, they met face-to-face, but Zhao Yan didn’t dare open her eyes to look at Wenren Lin. His dark, lacquer-like eyes were so deep they seemed to seize the soul—powerful, profound, tender, and enchanting.

Rather unheroically, she raised her arm to shield her eyes, only for Wenren Lin to gently but firmly pull it away. Leaning against the pillow, he brushed his fingertip over her damp eyelashes and asked in a low voice, “Crying?”

“No.”

Zhao Yan rubbed her eyes, her cheeks flushed with warmth, and turned her back to him.

She didn’t know why, but though she hadn’t cried, the corners of her eyes were wet and red, completely beyond her control.

Wenren Lin propped his elbow against his temple with one hand while the other lazily toyed with her satin-like black hair. He chuckled softly. “Whenever Your Highness is nervous or uneasy, you tend to act recklessly.”

“I haven’t acted recklessly with anyone else.”

Feeling the tingling sensation of his fingers weaving through her hair, Zhao Yan gripped the bedding tightly. She wanted to ask Wenren Lin to teach her how to resolve the issues between them.

But she didn’t say it aloud. She didn’t want this rare moment of harmony and tranquility to turn into a calculated transaction.

“I want to bathe…”

Zhao Yan’s voice carried a slight nasal tone, softer than usual, like when she took her medicine.

Wenren Lin finally released her hair and turned her body slightly toward him. “Walk yourself, or shall this king prince you?”

Zhao Yan shook her head, weary. “It’s too cold outside. I don’t want to go to the bathhouse. Just have Liu Ying bring water to the bedchamber.”

She gave orders naturally, and Wenren Lin showed no trace of displeasure. He tucked the quilt around her, then lifted it and got out of bed.

His cold, chiseled physique was fully exposed—broad shoulders, long legs, and defined muscles. Zhao Yan’s cheeks burned again, and she quickly averted her gaze.

But then she thought, at this point, why should she feel shy or guilty? Steeling herself, she looked back at him.

Wenren Lin had already picked up the clothes from the edge of the bed and put them on, the long robe hanging loosely, unbelted. His languid appearance could easily be misunderstood. Zhao Yan hesitated, suggesting he dress more properly, but he didn’t leave to meet anyone. Instead, he casually gathered the scattered paper, brush, and other items from the floor, then called through the hall door to the attendants outside, instructing them to bring a comb, towel, and hot water. He then returned to the inner chamber and sat in the armchair by the bed.

Zhao Yan gazed at his tall figure, half-shrouded in shadow, and let out a wistful sigh.

Liu Ying knocked on the door and tidied up the room, ensuring no suspicious traces remained before allowing the attendants to arrange the bathtub and hot water.

As Liu Ying rolled up her sleeves and approached the inner chamber, she heard Duke Su’s low voice from behind the moon gate’s hanging curtain: “Your services aren’t needed here.”

Liu Ying cautiously glanced inside, seeing the little princess’s silent consent. She composed herself, gave a respectful curtsy, and retreated, closing the hall door behind her.

The gauze lantern glowed brightly, casting ripples from the bathtub onto the curtains, creating a faint golden shimmer that illuminated Wenren Lin’s features through the veil.

He casually picked up his dark cloak, lifted the quilt, and draped it over Zhao Yan’s soft, jade-like form. Then, with ease, he scooped her up along with the cloak and carried her toward the bathtub behind the screen.

Wenren Lin was tall, and his cloak was correspondingly large. Only the tips of Zhao Yan’s feet peeked out, their delicate whiteness tinged with pink against the dark fabric. She clutched at his chest, biting her lip to steady herself.

When her body sank into the hot water, she let out a contented sigh.

A nearby brazier radiated warmth, and steam rose in gentle swirls. There was nothing more comforting than soaking in a hot bath on a quiet, snowy winter night, washing away exhaustion and aches.

Wenren Lin took a hairpin and gathered her long hair, which spilled over the edge of the tub, bundling it into a loose, somewhat unrefined man’s topknot atop her head.

He studied it for a moment, adjusting the angle with mild dissatisfaction. “Washing your hair on a winter night can let cold in, Your Highness. Make do with this for now, and don’t fall asleep.”

Zhao Yan, resting her arms on the tub’s edge, lowered her eyes and nodded.

Noticing the restless flutter of her eyelashes, Wenren Lin leaned closer, bracing himself on the tub’s rim. “Your Highness has such small hands. Can you wash properly on your own, or does this prince need to help?”

Zhao Yan froze, her gaze falling on his long, defined fingers. Annoyed, she replied, “No need.”

Wenren Lin’s eyes drifted downward, and he asked gently, “Truly no need?”

“No need!”

In the water, Zhao Yan drew her knees together and sat upright, inadvertently splashing water with a loud slosh. Wenren Lin turned his head slightly, but a few droplets still landed on his jaw and collar.

His damp eyelashes parted, revealing a face so strikingly handsome it seemed almost otherworldly.

Instinctively, Zhao Yan reached to wipe the water off him, forgetting her own hands were even wetter. Realizing she was only making it worse, she curved her eyes and said, “You… should wash up too.”

Wenren Lin caught her slippery wrist, guiding it back into the warm water to soak, giving it a gentle squeeze before standing and heading to the washbasin behind the screen.

He dipped a cloth into the copper basin, casually draping his long robe over the wooden rack. The screen cast a tall, sharply defined shadow—broad shoulders tapering to a toned waist, then down to long, taut legs… so perfectly proportioned that, despite having seen him before, Zhao Yan couldn’t help but marvel at his flawless form.

In this rare moment of calm, she dared only to admire him secretly, shielded by the screen.

Lost in a daze, she was startled by Wenren Lin’s low voice: “Earlier on the bed, didn’t Your Highness get your fill of looking?”

Zhao Yan snapped back to reality, quickly averting her gaze and turning to sit with her back against the tub. Indignantly, she thought: Does this man have clairvoyant eyes? How could he know where her gaze lingered through a screen?

She splashed water on her face absentmindedly, then frowned, clutching her stomach. She muttered to no one in particular, “I’m hungry.”

Her tone was so candid it was almost endearing.

A soft chuckle came from behind the screen. Wenren Lin finished wiping himself, tossed the cloth into the basin, and took his clothes from the rack to dress.

He scooped two ladles of hot water to add to her tub, testing the temperature with his hand before drying his fingers and heading to the outer chamber. He returned with two plates of dried fruits and pastries.

The crown prince was bound by strict etiquette—except on special occasions, no fires could be lit or food prepared after dark, and late-night meals or drinks were forbidden. In warmer months, this was bearable, but with snow falling heavily outside, cold food felt particularly unappealing.

Zhao Yan glanced at the plates and said softly, “Cold food gives me a stomachache. Is there anything warm?”

Wenren Lin glanced at her, reaching out to pinch her ear gently before pulling a chair over. He sat down, crossing his legs, and leisurely used silver chopsticks to pick up a piece of taro cake and a crystal pastry, warming them over the brazier.

The firelight danced on his pale face, casting a warm glow over his profile. A surge of warmth filled Zhao Yan’s chest, a bittersweet ache swelling within her.

The world feared him, and even Zhao Yan had once seen him as a formidable beast. Yet, after all their tangled encounters, he was the one who, more often than not, answered her every request.

In this moment, they were not Duke Su and the Crown Prince—just two ordinary people gathered around a brazier, toasting pastries. If this peace could last forever, it would surely be a wonderful thing.

Zhao Yan wouldn’t force him to yield. She would prove to him that there was still a bright path forward for them.

A warmth touched her lips as Wenren Lin offered her a perfectly toasted, fragrant taro cake. “Try it,” he said casually.

Zhao Yan took the silver chopsticks, bit into it, and nodded. “It’s good. Want some?”

Instead of taking a bite of the shared pastry, Wenren Lin leaned forward, his lips brushing away a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “Mm,” he murmured. “Sweet.”

Zhao Yan recalled that Wenren Lin had once mentioned he rarely ate late at night, hardly touching food after dark—a discipline that was almost unnervingly steadfast.

She pursed her lips, masking her thoughts by nibbling on the warm pastry. “I don’t know how your body works. You eat so sparingly yet grow so tall, and your stamina…”

Realizing the topic was veering off course, Zhao Yan stopped herself, focusing intently on the soft, fragrant texture of the taro cake.

Wenren Lin, lounging in the chair, looked rather pleased. “This subject humbly thanks Your Highness for the praise.”

His use of “subject” was rare and startling. Zhao Yan felt a flush of embarrassment, as if she’d been teased by an subordinate. She turned her gaze away, focusing on the nearly spent candle on the desk.

After eating her fill, a wave of drowsiness swept over her.

Before the water cooled, Wenren Lin firmly lifted the nodding Zhao Yan from the bathtub, dried her off, dressed her in clean undergarments, and tucked her into the bedding.

It was past midnight, and the world was hushed in silence.

Though exhausted, Zhao Yan startled awake when Wenren Lin rose to leave, grabbing two of his fingers.

He turned back, catching the expectation in her eyes. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he smiled at her. “Is Your Highness still hungry for something?”

Zhao Yan tightened her grip on his fingers, her lips parting as words slipped out instinctively.

“It’s snowing outside, Grand Tutor. Why not stay the night and leave at dawn?”

Previous

Next