Chapter Sixty-Four: A Taste of Sweetness

“All right, Mother knows it’s not your fault; it’s my own failing for making you worry,” Bloodsnow earnestly stroked her little head, her tone sincere as she admitted her mistake—not the coaxing tone one would use with a child, but a genuine one.

“Xier knows you only left because you had something important to do, so how could I blame you? Besides, it’s right for me to worry about you.” Little Xier spoke with equal seriousness, clinging to Bloodsnow’s leg, unwilling to let go.

Ji Wuqing watched the two, one big and one small, confiding in each other. For the first time, he saw a gentle warmth on Bloodsnow’s face, so different from her usual cool and distant manner.

“Mother, I missed you so much. I want to sleep with you tonight.” The little girl snuggled into Bloodsnow’s arms, acting spoiled, her chubby cheeks rubbing against Bloodsnow’s hand like a kitten seeking affection.

“Go wash up first, then we’ll see,” Ji Wuqing unexpectedly interjected from the side, holding a cup of fragrant tea, his gaze thoughtful.

At his words, Xier immediately released Bloodsnow, cheering, “Yay! I can sleep with Mother!” With that, she dashed away, unaware she’d fallen right into the prince’s scheme.

“My lady, should we retire for the night?” He rose and stood before Bloodsnow, gazing at her with gentle eyes and speaking in a soft voice.

“I am indeed tired,” Bloodsnow replied with a nod, allowing Ji Wuqing to lead her by the hand toward their bedchamber.

They walked along the quiet corridor, the aroma of tea wafting through the air, clearing Bloodsnow’s thoughts considerably.

“Your Highness… no, Ziqing, did you leave the palace this time for an inspection? To observe the lives of the people?” As ruler, his whereabouts would surely be a matter of interest in the palace, especially to that one in the Hall of Benevolence.

“Mm, you could say that,” Ji Wuqing nodded.

Passing through silent halls and over a bridge above flowing water, he finally led her to their room. He closed the door and drew the bolt in one smooth motion.

Bloodsnow yawned, but before she could finish, Ji Wuqing caught her in a firm embrace from behind.

Her body stiffened instinctively, shrinking into his arms, confusion flickering across her face. “Ziqing? Is something the matter?” Her lashes trembled like butterfly wings, casting a shadow in the gentle lamp light.

“After such a long separation, it seems I haven’t given you any welcome,” he murmured, his chin brushing her hair, his voice as soft as a drifting feather, carrying a subtle ripple of temptation.

What sort of welcome did he want?

Bloodsnow blinked, unable to avert her eyes, her ears acutely sensitive. His breath was gentle, but the heartbeat against her back was strong and steady, as if echoing her own.

The atmosphere had grown subtly charged—quiet, yet something was fermenting in the silence.

“It seems, Xue’er, that you’re not looking forward to it at all, giving me no sign whatsoever.” His large hand settled on her waist, both restraining and cherishing her.

“What sort of sign should I give?” she blurted, as if asking him, as if asking herself.

No sooner had she spoken than the hand at her waist tightened. His breath brushed her ear, his chin resting on her slender shoulder, and she felt a warmth there that made her ears flush red.

Her own breathing quickened, and she tried to steady herself with a deep breath.

“Your breathing is so rapid; are you feeling unwell?” his voice teased knowingly by her ear. He seemed to relish her flustered confusion, like a cat toying with a fish before swallowing it whole.

“It’s nothing, I’ll be fine in a moment.” She did her best to stay composed, though a hint of annoyance colored her tone.

“Is that so? Just like that…”

“I’m a bit tired. Let’s sleep.” Irritable, she wriggled from his grasp and scrambled onto the bed.

Clearly, the prince had no intention of letting her off so easily. He, too, seemed a little vexed, stumbling over the rug and tumbling onto the bed—landing right atop the maiden, pinning Bloodsnow firmly in his arms.

“What are you doing?” Bloodsnow’s face turned bright red in an instant, flustered by his weight pressing against her back, the intimacy and ambiguity of the moment sending her into a panic.

“I didn’t mean to—it was an accident,” he declared, utterly innocent, yet shamelessly savoring this accidental closeness.

He propped himself up slightly, making sure not to crush her, and admired Bloodsnow’s mortified, indignant expression.

She was at a loss, not knowing what to say.

Just then, the sound of scratching at the door came from outside—a little girl’s voice: “Mother, Mother! Xier’s here! Mother?” Xier was bundled in a thick blanket, scratching at the door, but no matter how she tried, it would not budge.

Only now did she realize she’d fallen into that old man’s trap. “Old man, what have you done to my mother? Let me in right now, don’t you bully her!”

She scratched all the harder, her cheeks growing anxious and flushed.

“Hurry and get up, Xier’s coming.” Hearing her daughter’s voice, Bloodsnow began to struggle, worried that such a cold night would leave Xier shivering outside.

Ji Wuqing, however, didn’t move or say a word. Having finally gotten rid of the little one, how could he possibly let her back in?

“Mother, Mother! Are you there? Old man, you’re not allowed to bully my mother!” Xier kept scratching desperately at the door, her soft, childish voice both amusing and exasperating.

Like a mischievous little girl disturbing her mother in the middle of the night—a true little mama’s girl.

Her words were all too appropriate for the situation, for inside, Bloodsnow was firmly pinned by Ji Wuqing, unable to extricate herself. She’d rolled over by now, facing him, awkwardly trapped.

Her wrist lay powerless on the brocade quilt, her face averted in stubborn annoyance.

“Your Highness, shouldn’t you return to your own room to sleep?” came Miao Jian’s voice from outside.

“But Uncle Miao Jian, my mother’s in there! I want to sleep with her. Besides, I’m sure the old man is bullying her, and that’s just not right!” Xier declared indignantly, refusing to give up until she saw her mother.

“The master and mistress may already be asleep. Your Highness would do well not to make a fuss,” Miao Jian continued to coax.

But Xier persisted, “No! I want my mother!”

With that, she clung to the door, her blanket slipping off to reveal her pink nightclothes—hardly warm enough for such a chilly night.

“If you don’t say something, Xier won’t quiet down,” Ji Wuqing said, amusement flickering across his face as he watched Bloodsnow’s stubbornness.

He propped up his head, quite content to enjoy the sight of the maiden’s flushed cheeks, their pinkness like peach blossoms in spring—her natural, untouched beauty all the more captivating.

Bloodsnow listened to the commotion at the door, steadied herself, and finally spoke calmly, “Xier, what are you fussing about? Go back to your room and sleep.”

“It’s Mother!” came Xier’s delighted cry, before she wilted, “But Mother…”

“I’m tired tonight; you sleep first.” Hearing her daughter’s wounded tone, she softened her voice.

“All right then, I’ll let Uncle Miao Jian put me to bed.” With that, Xier obediently nodded, scooped up her little blanket, and wrapped herself up again with practiced efficiency.

In no time, the noise outside faded away, leaving the room to a different sort of scene.

Ji Wuqing lounged with his head propped on his hand, regarding the young woman’s vexed yet helpless expression.

“You’re quite skilled at soothing children; that’s very good… If only you’d coax me like that once in a while,” he said.

“I wouldn’t dare take liberties with my lord,” Bloodsnow replied solemnly, still averted, offering only a profile to his gaze.

“We’re husband and wife, not ruler and subject.” His hand moved to her cheek, not to caress her tenderly, but—

He first touched her tentatively, then pinched her gently with jade-like fingers, poked her as if she were a toy, and finally, with feigned nonchalance, began to sketch on her face.

“Forgive this painting enthusiast for wishing you to be his canvas—such delicate, fair skin.” As he spoke, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly to her cheek.

Bloodsnow’s eyes widened at the gentle touch, then felt a faint sting.

He only gave her a light kiss, but then the main event—he nipped her cheek as if biting into an apple, leaving a faint imprint of his teeth.

“Were you still hungry after dinner?” Bloodsnow was startled by his actions, half exasperated, half amused.

“A little dessert after supper—delightful indeed,” he answered with mock seriousness, licking his lips. “Would you like a taste?”

“I have no such inclinations,” she replied bluntly, her cheeks growing even rosier, the flush lending her usually snow-pale countenance a girlish charm and sweetness.

Like clouds at dusk slowly tinged by sunset, the pink hue was enchanting, making one want to steal a kiss…

To steal a kiss, indeed.

And in fact, he did just that, leaning in to press delicate, feather-light kisses to her lips, deepening the lovely color on both their faces.