How could he refuse?
It was absolutely agreeable.
Shen Ziqin also picked up his wine cup. The liquid reflected the lamplight, rippling and gently swaying. The sweet fragrance of the wine spread, and Shen Ziqin seemed intoxicated before even drinking.
Because the red silk in the room couldn’t compare to the blush on his face.
The two held their cups, arms intertwined. When people are very close, they often can’t help but avert their gaze. Though Shen Ziqin and Chu Zhao’s hearts were racing, feeling they couldn’t bear to look directly at each other…
Neither of them looked away.
They couldn’t bear to, even if their cheeks were burning hot, they couldn’t bear to miss a single moment.
They only wanted to take in every bit of each other’s emotions and expressions.
Their arms pressed together, they gazed into each other’s eyes and slowly finished their ceremonial wedding wine.
On their wedding night, what they had missed wasn’t just the ceremonial wine, but also… the wedding chamber.
The fruit wine’s alcohol content was indeed very low. After finishing a cup, Shen Ziqin’s mind was still clear. Chu Zhao raised his hand to caress the corner of Shen Ziqin’s eye, causing him to narrow his eyes slightly.
Chu Zhao softened his voice: “Are you drunk?”
Shen Ziqin shook his head.
“But why do I feel you’re still drunk? Otherwise… why are the corners of your eyes red?”
Shen Ziqin’s eyes were filled with emotion, his jade-white face touched with peach blossom makeup, rouge spreading from the corners of his eyes, extraordinarily beautiful and moving.
His red thin lips were moistened by the wine, waiting to be picked. Shen Ziqin smiled: “I said I’m not drunk, and you don’t believe me. Then… why don’t you test it and see?”
Chu Zhao’s eyes darkened.
“All right, I’ll test it.”
His fingertips slid from the corner of Shen Ziqin’s eye and lifted his chin: “Open your mouth.”
Shen Ziqin complied.
The wine doesn’t intoxicate, but people intoxicate themselves. As they exchanged the mellow taste of wine, Shen Ziqin’s eyes quickly shattered into a pool of spring water. His breathing unsteady, he asked: “Have you figured it out?”
Chu Zhao caught his earlobe between his teeth, his voice hoarse: “…Not enough.”
“Then, mm, test more.”
Just as Shen Ziqin trembled from the teasing, he suddenly felt himself suspended in air. Chu Zhao had picked him up horizontally and placed him in the mandarin duck warm bed.
His jet-black hair spread out like silk, the beauty lying drunk among it surpassing all worldly beauty.
Chu Zhao looked down at him, making Shen Ziqin’s heart tremble and warm currents flow through his limbs. At this moment, he wasn’t nervous anymore.
Now he only wanted to embrace the person before him, to lean against him solidly, to make his pounding heart whole.
“…Chu Zhao.”
Shen Ziqin’s voice trembled as he reached out for him-this was permission.
So Chu Zhao bent down and embraced him.
Red candles, warm bed curtains, a spring night worth a thousand gold.
Even the firelight in the room became gentle, because there were people hotter than them. Shen Ziqin’s jade-white fingertips tightened, turning red. His eyes gradually misted over, his eyelashes trembled, dropping water droplets adorned with light.
Like a small boat on a river, initially gentle, rocking slowly, then encountering a sudden gale, with waves crashing against the shore, wave after wave, fierce and unceasing.
Not only were the corners of Shen Ziqin’s eyes reddened, but the fruit wine had also brought out a light sweat. His eyes were tossed by a thousand layers of waves, not knowing what time it was. He himself was like water and mist, transformed into tenderness.
His fingers tightened and loosened, falling down. His hands couldn’t hold on, nor could his lips.
Pitiful and adorable.
His jade-white arms, tinged with red, were caught back. He was so soft he couldn’t lean on anything except Chu Zhao.
Newlyweds should be affectionate.
The lights in the room went out at some unknown time, enveloping the room in sandalwood fragrance.
When the moon set and the sun rose, as daylight shone into the room, a pair of people leaned together under the mandarin duck brocade blanket, sleeping soundly.
Shen Ziqin opened his eyes hazily, instinctively curling toward the warmth.
A soft laugh came from above his head. Shen Ziqin didn’t want to move, just nestled against Chu Zhao’s embrace.
After such a tumultuous night, he had actually slept well.
…Though now he didn’t want to move even a finger.
An unprecedented languor had seeped into his bones, softening them. The lingering afterglow of their affection remained in his limbs, fine and dense, keeping him soft under the covers.
He curled up like a cat, not moving. Soon, he felt someone pinching his earlobe.
That person, having found amusement, wasn’t satisfied with just a pinch, but pressed and kneaded, playing with it.
The play made Shen Ziqin’s round toes curl, almost reigniting the lingering fruit wine fragrance.
“…Stop teasing,” Shen Ziqin pleaded.
Chu Zhao released his hand and embraced him with the blanket. The well-fed lion was extremely agreeable: “All right.”
Shen Ziqin listened to his heartbeat, closed his eyes, and recalled the dream he had just had.
In the dream, he saw his biological father again.
The man stood in the “home” where he had once lived in the modern world. The home was a mess, with broken things on the floor. Though there was light outside the window, the home was dim. The man stood at the door, his bloodshot eyes glaring at him hatefully.
Shen Ziqin stood at the entrance.
To be precise, not at the entrance-Shen Ziqin was also standing in a room.
The room was bathed in sunshine, with a gilded incense burner by the window emitting wisps of smoke. A landscape kesi screen stood with lively charm. Every cup and hairpin in the room was warm. Peonies bloomed brilliantly in the vase, with national beauty and fragrance.
The jade pendant at Shen Ziqin’s waist swayed.
Someone in black clothes, handsome as jade, with an incomparably beautiful face wearing a dashing smile, came to hold his hand: “Ziqin.”
The man in the shadows couldn’t cross that threshold. Shen Ziqin no longer needed to fear anything.
I’ve found my real home, Shen Ziqin thought. Look, I’ve corrected the blood you gave me. I’ve learned things you never could.
I originally had the ability to love someone.
In the dream, Shen Ziqin held Chu Zhao’s hand and stepped into the warm, fragrant room.
Outside the dream… Shen Ziqin leaned in Chu Zhao’s embrace and reached for his hand.
The dream ended but the person remained-one of life’s blessings.
Both were experiencing intimacy for the first time, inevitably with some awkwardness, but fortunately they were well-matched. Shen Ziqin finally opened his eyes completely. What he hadn’t asked last night, he could ask this morning.
Shen Ziqin touched his toes to Chu Zhao’s: “When did you buy that ointment?”
He was certainly well-prepared.
As soon as he spoke, he noticed his voice was sticky and hoarse, both lazy and raspy.
Chu Zhao played with Shen Ziqin’s hand: “I didn’t. I had Steward Meng prepare it.”
Shen Ziqin was startled, his tone suddenly rising: “What? You asked him directly!?”
Chu Zhao, holding his fingers and realizing Shen Ziqin was embarrassed, quickly said: “Hey, don’t get excited, your voice is still hoarse. Wait, let me get you some water first.”
Chu Zhao got out of bed, put on a robe, poured Shen Ziqin a cup of water, and helped him sit up to drink. Of course, he sat back in bed, leaning against the headboard with Shen Ziqin.
While soothing his throat, Shen Ziqin urged him with his eyes: Hurry, tell me, it’s urgent.
“Although storybooks and instructional manuals cover everything, practice is different and requires caution. I was worried about your comfort and wasn’t sure which ointment would be most suitable, so… I had Steward Meng prepare it.”
What Chu Zhao didn’t say was that Steward Meng seemed to think they had already been intimate, suggesting that Chu Zhao had previously used medicinal oil kept in the room as a substitute. Learning that he was now requesting more proper ointment, the old man was very pleased.
…Is this ointment really considered proper?
Hearing that Chu Zhao had been thinking of him, Shen Ziqin felt warmth in his heart. However, he still found it extremely embarrassing. While he was comfortable with their natural progression, he hadn’t planned on announcing it to the world. Having others know about it still felt somewhat uncomfortable.
Shen Ziqin murmured: “At least Steward Meng isn’t talkative, and the household won’t gossip about these things. Others surely don’t care either.”
Since Steward Meng also cleaned Chu Zhao’s room, he would know anyway, so whether or not they needed ointment seemed unimportant.
Shen Ziqin had just felt slightly comforted.
While Shen Ziqin was drinking water, Chu Zhao had switched to playing with his hair, wrapping the silk-like strands around his fingers, lost in the sensation. Upon hearing this comment, his movements paused.
Unfortunately, Shen Ziqin was very perceptive.
Shen Ziqin sensed trouble: “…What is it?”
Chu Zhao looked out the window and countered with a question: “Um, does it matter to you?”
Shen Ziqin’s hand holding the cup trembled slightly.
Though the little marquis and the prince had different ways of being stubborn, occasionally they were similar. He said: “Not really, but I feel like you have more to say.”
“Yesterday when I decorated the bedroom like this, everyone in my courtyard knew.”
What else could decorating a wedding chamber mean? Everyone knew Sima Zhao’s intentions.
“And the fruit wine prepared yesterday-though low in alcohol, I wasn’t sure if one cup would be enough to make you pass out. I thought, if you did pass out, it wouldn’t matter, we could try another day, so I didn’t rush to send the guards away from the courtyard.”
Chu Zhao rubbed his nose: “Later, the mood was so good that I didn’t think about them.”
Given the skills of the prince’s residence guards, those on the adjacent roofs and corners last night certainly heard everything they should have heard.
Shen Ziqin: “…”
He was stunned for a while, then handed the cup back to Chu Zhao, pulled the blanket over his head, and completely covered himself.
A muffled nasal sound came from under the blanket: “I’m not getting up today.”
Too embarrassing!
Chu Zhao couldn’t help laughing. He wrapped one arm around the blanket bundle and nuzzled the round ball: “Don’t be like that, come out, little marquis. I’ll be embarrassed with you.”
Shen Ziqin remained steadfast: “No.”
Chu Zhao: “Don’t suffocate yourself.”
Shen Ziqin remained unmoved.
Chu Zhao began to employ strategy, baiting his target: “You haven’t finished your water. Aren’t you thirsty?”
…He was still thirsty.
The bundled blanket hesitated, shifting slightly, and lifted a tiny gap.
This small opening gave the ever-victorious Prince Qin his opportunity.
Chu Zhao tilted his head back, drank the remaining water from the cup, then unexpectedly lifted the blanket and crawled under it himself.
He would feed him personally.
The blanket became disheveled again.
In the courtyard, the guards looked at the sky and ground, pretending to be idle, but their ears were perked up.
Hmm, exciting, it’s starting again. Would the two miss breakfast today?
So why was there no sound the previous time? Was it too gentle before, and now their enthusiasm had increased, making them more vocal?
Look at how calm Steward Meng was in the courtyard, unlike these young guards.
And their leader was also reliable-look at Hei Ying’s impassive handsome face, so proper.
They were placing bets, but Hei Ying didn’t participate at all, very upright.
Hei Ying held his sword, staring at the door as if he had seen through worldly affairs: “Actually, there’s one thing I still don’t understand.”
Steward Meng stood calmly with his hands in his sleeves: “Oh?”
Hei Ying: “Why hasn’t the prince ordered that we can also call the marquis ‘consort’ within the residence?”
“That would depend on the marquis’s own wishes,” Steward Meng pondered. “The marquis is shy, perhaps he would be embarrassed.”
Shen Ziqin was indeed bold in official matters-Hei Ying had fully experienced this during their trip to Yuzhou. But in personal matters, he was like a cat with retracted claws. Calling him shy seemed accurate.
When the prince carried him onto horseback at the Flying Tiger hideout in Yuzhou, the little marquis’s face was still red even after dismounting.
Hei Ying: “That’s true.”
Steward Meng smiled: “What we call him doesn’t matter. What’s important is that we know the prince’s residence truly has two masters now… I’ll tell the kitchen to make some chicken soup. The marquis has a weak constitution; he needs nourishment after such exertion.”
It was indeed tiring. Hei Ying stared at the door-inside, they were still diligently working without stopping.
#
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
