ATSBTBMACP 17

Chapter 17

When Song Beiyao returned to Yan Nuan Pavilion, Ling Feng was sitting at a stone table in the courtyard, looking up at the moon, seemingly lost in thought.

“What’s wrong? It’s freezing cold; you seem troubled,” Song Beiyao sat down next to Ling Feng.

“I don’t know. Lately, I’ve felt something is off, but I can’t pinpoint what it is,” Ling Feng sighed. “I wasn’t like this before.”

He turned to look at Song Beiyao, surprised, “You only delivered a bowl of soup to Pei Ji; why do you look so tired?”

Song Beiyao smiled without saying anything.

It wasn’t that every scene could be performed in peak condition, especially when facing an opponent like Pei Ji; no mistakes could be made.

Just now, sitting on Pei Ji’s lap, being stared at like that, it was as if he had been seen through to his very soul.

This man was truly frightening.

Song Beiyao changed the subject: “When did you start noticing the symptoms?”

“Probably around the time of the sudden assassination attempt,” Ling Feng lamented. “Did it scare me into some sort of problem?”

Song Beiyao said, “You’re an assassin yourself; how could you be scared by assassins?”

Ling Feng shook his head: “You weren’t there; you don’t know how terrifying the scene was. Those assassins had high martial arts skills; I also had to protect that ancestor. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this tense!”

Song Beiyao pondered for a moment: “You might be experiencing the suspension bridge effect.”

“What effect?” Ling Feng leaned closer.

“Nothing.” Song Beiyao knew he couldn’t explain it to him; he asked directly, “Have you thought about Xiao Yun recently?”

Ling Feng clicked his tongue: “It’s not that I’m thinking about him, but I keep thinking about what he said to me; he said he liked me. No one’s ever said that to me before. Song Beiyao, do you know what it feels like to be liked?”

Song Beiyao’s expression froze slightly, as if remembering something, and suddenly fell silent.

Seeing his expression, Ling Feng quickly said, “What’s wrong? Why are you making such a sad face? Being liked isn’t something to be happy about?”

Song Beiyao shook his head, also looking up at the moon in the sky, still silent.

This situation was definitely wrong, so Ling Feng changed his question, “Have you ever liked someone else?”

After a long time, Song Beiyao slowly opened his mouth and uttered two words: “No.”

…

The next day, as it grew dark, Song Beiyao took Ling Feng to the dining hall.

On the way, the cold wind howled; Song Beiyao was always afraid of the cold, even with a thick padded coat and cloak, he was still freezing.

The dining hall was divided into inner and outer rooms; the outer room was more spacious, usually used to entertain guests; at this time, a group of guards and servants were waiting outside.

The inner room was Pei Ji’s private dining room; usually only Zhang Bo would be present when Pei Ji dined; now that Song Beiyao was coming to dine, Ling Feng would be allowed to come in with him.

Upon entering the dining hall, he saw the handsome man sitting in the main seat, he paused, then happily walked over: “I thought you wouldn’t be back for dinner tonight, my husband.”

Zhang Bo hurriedly said, “Come and sit down, Consort. His Highness has been waiting for you for a while.” Then he instructed the servants to serve the dishes.

Song Beiyao sat next to Pei Ji and extended his right hand.

Pei Ji lowered his eyes and looked at the slender, white fingers, which were red from the cold. “What’s this for?” he asked.

“My husband, my hands are cold,” Song Beiyao smiled with his eyebrows and eyes. “Can you warm them for me for a while?”

Pei Ji glanced at Song Beiyao; the young man was looking at him with anticipation. He looked away and said to Zhang Bo, “Get a hand warmer for the consort.”

Song Beiyao directly grabbed Pei Ji’s hand and put his own hand inside. The luck value in the lower left corner immediately increased by +2.

Pei Ji had practiced martial arts for many years; his hands were large, with distinct knuckles and calluses in his palms, very warm.

He was stunned for a moment and reached out to remove his hand, but Song Beiyao directly clasped his fingers: “Your hands are so warm, my husband; warming my hands for a while won’t hurt.”

“Take your hand away,” Pei Ji said coldly.

“No,” Song Beiyao winked at him.

Ling Feng stood aside, completely dumbfounded at the sight of the two.

Zhang Bo, however, smiled kindly. When had His Highness ever allowed such closeness before? He’s broken precedent for the consort several times. With His Highness’s strength, a slight struggle would be enough to separate their hands, or even push the person away.

In the end, he cares, so he can’t bring himself to do it. It’s just that His Highness’s personality is such that he probably doesn’t even realize it.

Young people need to learn through experience; Zhang Bo felt it wasn’t appropriate for him to interfere.

Meanwhile, the hot dishes were quickly served; Song Beiyao immediately released Pei Ji’s hand and began to eat with chopsticks.

With the cool, soft hand withdrawn from his grasp, Pei Ji clenched his fist slightly and picked up his chopsticks.

He didn’t have much of an appetite, picking up his chopsticks without knowing where to start; from the corner of his left eye, he saw Song Beiyao picking up one dish after another, eating non-stop.

He ate very politely, but his portion size was large, and one could tell he was eating deliciously without even needing to look.

“My husband, why aren’t you eating?” Song Beiyao suddenly asked.

Pei Ji slightly turned his head and saw Song Beiyao curiously staring at him, with a grain of rice stuck to his right cheek.

Pei Ji moved his fingers, directly reaching out to remove the grain of rice. When he came to his senses, he realized what he had done, and his expression returned to its cold hardness.

Zhang Bo said, “Consort, His Highness’s stomach trouble has recurred these past few days; he doesn’t have much of an appetite. You should persuade him; how can his stomach trouble recover if he doesn’t eat?”

“Zhang Bo,” Pei Ji raised his eyes, his gaze cold, and Zhang Bo immediately fell silent.

“My husband, is it because you find it too greasy?” Song Beiyao asked softly.

The Great Zhou cuisine was diverse, and the taste was quite strong; the cooks of the Crown Prince’s manor, in order to keep their jobs, would naturally make the food delicious, inevitably using more seasoning.

Pei Ji had a weak stomach; long-term consumption of these greasy and meaty dishes would only aggravate his stomach ailment.

Before Pei Ji could answer, Song Beiyao said to Zhang Bo, “Zhang Bo, tomorrow I would like to create a menu and ask the kitchen to change the dishes. Is that possible?”

Zhang Bo had eaten Song Beiyao’s pear blossom cakes last time and thought it was feasible, but he couldn’t make the decision himself. He hesitated and looked at the Crown Prince.

Pei Ji’s face darkened, and he said coldly, “Song Beiyao, have you forgotten what this king said? You’re treating the Crown Prince’s manor as your own place, interfering with everything.”

The warning was clear.

Song Beiyao’s face turned pale, he put down his chopsticks, and said tremblingly, “I’m sorry, my husband. It was my presumption.”

He stood up, weakly saying, “I’m full, my husband. Please continue eating.” Then, with Ling Feng, he left the dining hall.

“Consort, oh…” Zhang Bo quickly said to Pei Ji, “Your Highness, please calm down. The consort may have been hurt, and left the table midway.”

Pei Ji did not speak.

Zhang Bo continued to persuade, “Your Highness, the consort truly cares for you, for your sake, he said that; he had no other intentions; Your Highness, please don’t misunderstand the consort’s goodwill.”

“Have the kitchen staff go to Yan Nuan Pavilion tomorrow and get the menu,” Pei Ji said coldly.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

On the way back to Yan Nuan Pavilion, Song Beiyao’s mood was very low. Ling Feng rarely saw him like this and quietly asked, “What’s wrong? Did Pei Ji scold you? Are you that afraid of him?”

“That braised pork knuckle,” he heard Song Beiyao say gloomily, “I only ate half of it.”

Ling Feng: “…”

Song Beiyao continued, “If I use my menu from now on, I won’t be able to eat such delicious food.”

Ling Feng: “…”

“Why did you bring that up then?” Ling Feng was puzzled. “You scared me. Your tone; I thought you were going to take over the Crown Prince’s manor.”

Song Beiyao raised an eyebrow slightly and said leisurely, “Because I wanted to test Pei Ji.”

“Test what?”

To test his tolerance level towards me now.

—

That night, Pei Ji did not come to Yan Nuan Pavilion.

The next morning, someone from the kitchen came and asked Song Beiyao for the menu. Song Beiyao guessed that the new dishes would be prepared for dinner.

Song Beiyao did not go to the dining hall that evening. He asked Ling Feng to get two jars of wine from the kitchen. The two of them drank and chatted in the warm main house. Soon after drinking one jar of wine, Ling Feng was dizzy; Song Beiyao, however, was unaffected.

“How can you drink so much!” Ling Feng was again puzzled, “Do princes need special alcohol training?”

Song Beiyao smiled: “When I was outside the palace, there was a period when I needed to drink frequently; I trained myself.”

“You, a prince!” Ling Feng began to talk nonsense. “You have such a rich experience!”

Song Beiyao: “Ling Feng, you’re drunk.”

Ling Feng: “I’m not, not drunk! Don’t talk nonsense.”

Song Beiyao leaned closer to him: “Help me with one more thing, Ling Feng.”

…

In the Crown Prince’s study, it was serious; Pei Ji and his strategists were discussing when a knock suddenly sounded at the door.

Pei Ji frowned slightly, his expression cold: “What is it?”

Qu Lan knew that he shouldn’t disturb His Highness during this time. But after thinking it over, since it involved the consort, he thought it was best to ask first.

He said, “Your Highness, the guards from Yan Nuan Pavilion just reported that the consort drank alcohol tonight and seems to be drunk, wanting to see you.”

Pei Ji paused, replying, “If he’s drunk, carry him to bed.”

“Your Highness.” At this time, a strategist stood up, “It’s already the Hai hour; I should take my leave and not disturb Your Highness’s rest.”

“The matter hasn’t been discussed yet, Yuan Qing, please stay.” Pei Ji said.

Yuan Conghai respectfully said, “Your Highness, a solution can’t be reached immediately; my wife and children are also waiting for me at home.”

“Alright, you may go.”

“This subordinate takes his leave.”

The door opened, Qu Lan remained standing at the doorway; Pei Ji stepped out of the study: “Let’s go, let’s go and take a look.”

Along the way, Qu Lan silently followed behind Pei Ji: “Your Highness, he was reportedly extremely drunk; Ling Feng was lying directly in the courtyard. The consort is usually reserved; I don’t know why he’s like this today; he didn’t even eat dinner tonight.”

Pei Ji’s voice was cold: “Did they not send a portion of the changed dinner to Yan Nuan Pavilion tonight?”

“They did, but it was returned untouched. Perhaps the consort is unhappy about what happened in the dining hall yesterday,” Qu Lan said silently.

Upon arriving at Yan Nuan Pavilion, the courtyard was quiet, and the door to the main house was closed. Pei Ji pushed open the door, closed it behind him, and walked into the inner room.

Leaning against the wall, Song Beiyao was sitting at the side of a low table, looking down at the chessboard, holding a white piece and placing it down.

Then he went to the other side and placed down a black piece. Back and forth, his movements swaying slightly; sometimes he frowned in thought, sometimes he cheered with delight at having found a clever move, completely unaware of Pei Ji’s approach.

He didn’t seem drunk at all; his long hair was softly spread over his shoulders; he was exceptionally quiet while playing chess.

But Pei Ji could feel that Song Beiyao was drunk, very drunk.

He walked to the chessboard and looked down at the game. The white pieces were attacking, pressing step by step; the black pieces were defending, unbreakable; this game was of a high level.

Pei Ji sat down on the mat on the black side; when Song Beiyao finished his move with a white piece, he took a black piece from the box and placed it down.

Instantly, the black pieces turned from defense to attack, the situation reversed. But Song Beiyao seemed not to have noticed the change; he stood up and walked to the black side, his feet stumbling, and fell into Pei Ji’s arms.

Pei Ji reached out to push him away; the young man struggled, almost falling, and simply leaned against Pei Ji.

“Song Beiyao, you’re drunk,” Pei Ji said in a low voice.

Song Beiyao seemed to suddenly wake up; he stood straight, staring blankly at the man in front of him, calling out, “Pei Ji.” Then he reached out and hugged the man’s neck, giving him a full embrace.

A strong smell of alcohol filled the air; however, Pei Ji still smelled Song Beiyao’s unique scent amidst the alcohol.

Before, he couldn’t describe what the scent was; this time, the scent seemed more obvious, like the grass after rain, the smell of evaporated rainwater under the sun.

Fresh and light.

“Pei Ji, you finally came to see me!” Song Beiyao lifted his head from the man’s neck. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

Pei Ji lowered his eyes and saw a委屈巴巴 (wěiqū bābā – aggrieved) face. Song Beiyao rarely showed this expression; his eyes were wet, as if he were about to cry in grievance.

Pei Ji silently looked at him, his palm turning from pushing to supporting, holding him at the waist. He slightly turned his head, making no response.

Song Beiyao’s voice was also soft: “You said you would come to apply medicine for me yesterday, but you didn’t. Tell me, don’t you want me anymore!”

He was too drunk; he didn’t realize how much he was acting coquettish.

“I had some unfinished official business last night, so I didn’t come,” Pei Ji explained in a deep voice, as if the young man would remember it after waking up.

After hearing this, Song Beiyao suddenly lowered his head and softly fell against Pei Ji.

“Pei Ji, I have a secret I want to tell you,” Pei Ji heard Song Beiyao whisper softly in his ear.

Pei Ji paused slightly and asked, “What secret?”

“Hold me and put me on the bed, and I’ll tell you.” The young man’s breath sprayed against his ear; Pei Ji felt his left ear getting a little hot from the warm air.

He swallowed, hesitated slightly, picked him up horizontally, and put him down by the bed. Just as he was about to get up, Song Beiyao hooked his neck and pulled him down.

Pei Ji propped himself up with his arm, half-lying on the bed, the distance between them instantly shortened. Their breaths intertwined, their bodies pressed close. Pei Ji saw Song Beiyao’s picturesque eyebrows and eyes, straight nose bridge, and below, his flushed lips.

His gaze lingered on those lips, watching them open and close, revealing half his white teeth and the tip of a cherry-red tongue.

“Now, are you ready to hear my secret?” A drunken gleam shone in Song Beiyao’s eyes; his eyes were flushed crimson.

“Tell me,” Pei Ji’s voice was low and hoarse.

Song Beiyao gently hooked Pei Ji’s neck and leaned close to his ear, his lips brushing against his earlobe.

“Pei Ji, I like you.”

The young man’s voice was like a clear spring, gentle as cotton, each word falling into his heart.

Pei Ji’s body involuntarily stiffened slightly.

Song Beiyao’s attentive actions these past few days, he had noticed them, but he didn’t think much about the reason. He wasn’t someone who would spend much time thinking about such things.

But what he felt and what he heard directly from the other person’s mouth were different things.

He was the Crown Prince; many people had expressed their admiration and affection for him; the foreign royal families who proposed marriage had never stopped in recent years. But at this moment, Song Beiyao’s words sounded different.

Pei Ji looked back and saw Song Beiyao staring at him intently, as if tracing his features with his gaze.

Then, Song Beiyao cupped his face and tried to kiss his lips.

Those soft and crimson lips kept getting closer; the smell of the young man mixed with alcohol became stronger and stronger. Pei Ji’s eyes darkened slightly, and he extended his other hand, blocking it between them.

Song Beiyao’s mouth was covered; he made a dissatisfied “呜 (wū)” sound; Pei Ji removed his hand and heard him saying “Kiss me,” “I want a kiss.”

Soon, Song Beiyao seemed to have fallen asleep, slowly closing his eyes and quickly falling asleep.

Pei Ji lowered his eyes, looking at the young man’s serene sleeping face, his gaze falling on those soft lips, lingering and circling.

He felt as if a soft feather had lightly brushed his heart, a little itchy.

After a while, he got up, covered Song Beiyao with the quilt, and turned to leave.