Yao Huang leaned back against Prince Hui’s shoulder, her thin eyelids lightly closed, yet she could still feel the soft glow sent over from the lotus candle stand opposite the arhat couch.
In the silent night, there was her breathing, light and heavy by turns, also mixed with the rustling sound of Prince Hui’s hand moving against the silk fabric.
Yao Huang knew that Prince Hui kept watching her, with the same concentration as when painting her portrait.
Yao Huang hoped she still looked beautiful at this moment, but she could no longer control her voice.
She covered that hand and requested in a low voice: “Your Highness, let’s go to the bed.”
Zhao Sui didn’t respond, nor did he release his hand.
In her daze, Yao Huang remembered that he had once suggested doing this here, and she had refused him. Now that this person had gone to great effort to move onto the arhat couch, how could he easily give up again?
Realizing she couldn’t escape tonight, Yao Huang turned her head toward the inner chamber’s door. That door was still ajar, bright inside and dark outside. If only Bai Ling came close to the door…
Yao Huang forced out a trace of voice: “Alright, right here, but Your Highness, let me go hang some clothing to block the view?”
Zhao Sui stopped his hand and looked at her evasive eyes, saying: “No extinguishing the lights.”
Yao Huang nearly cursed him as “shameless.”
With weak hands and feet, she got down to the floor. Yao Huang went to the wardrobe and took a long skirt, walking lightly to the door. She could hang it on the brackets on both sides of the door bolt, but this position was too narrow. The long skirt could only block the lower half of the door gap—the gap above the waist couldn’t be blocked at all, and the door panel above was bare with nothing to hang things on.
Yao Huang tilted her head, estimating the distance from the arhat couch to here. Thinking that sounds would travel straight over, Yao Huang steeled her heart and pulled open the door panel.
A lamp remained lit in the side room. Bedding was laid out on the floor. Bai Ling was pitifully dozing at the table.
Yao Huang coughed.
Bai Ling sat up straight with a start. Seeing the princess consort and remembering the matter before sleep, she stood and asked: “Has Your Highness finished the painting? Do you need water?”
There was a basin of clear water and a kettle of warm water in the room. Yao Huang couldn’t bear to trouble Bai Ling and the women from the water room in the middle of the night, so she said: “No need. You, you take the bedding and move to the main hall.”
Bai Ling thought of something, her face flushing red. She responded with an “Ai” and quickly gathered the bedding and left, leaving the princess consort with complicated feelings.
With no ears beyond the wall, Yao Huang lowered the door bolt. Seeing that Prince Hui on the arhat couch had actually picked up the storybook she had tossed aside and was leaning against the welcoming pillow pretending to read it, Yao Huang was in no more hurry. She walked to the easel to look at her painting.
Upon looking, Yao Huang was actually enchanted by herself in the painting. What paint produced certainly looked different from what a mirror reflected, but the woman sleeping on the couch under Prince Hui’s brush could still be recognized at a glance as the princess consort. Ink strokes outlined two delicate eyebrows, cinnabar dotted two red lips, and rouge powder was lightly applied to the cheeks.
This entire painting, from the person to the hem of her skirt, revealed a languid, soft beauty.
“Do you like it?”
Yao Huang raised her eyes and met Prince Hui’s gaze cast over.
Yao Huang pointed to the corners of her mouth that she couldn’t suppress no matter how hard she tried, letting him see.
Zhao Sui: “Take it down and place it on the table to dry flat. Tomorrow have someone mount it.”
Yao Huang carefully removed the painting paper from the easel. Before placing it on the table, she meticulously inspected the table surface to ensure no water marks remained.
After laying it out, Yao Huang examined it once more, then returned to the arhat couch. Lowering her head, she embraced that person’s shoulders and said while enduring her embarrassment: “For that painting, I’ll follow your lead tonight.”
Embracing face to face, this was the first time Yao Huang had been so close to Prince Hui’s face—so close that if she slightly raised her head, she would collide with those eyes of his.
Behind Zhao Sui was the welcoming pillow and bed enclosure, but he didn’t want to lean back. One hand propped against the cool bamboo mat to maintain balance while the other hand reached toward her garment.
Yao Huang turned her face away.
Zhao Sui reminded: “You need to remove the inner trousers yourself.”
Yao Huang’s lashes trembled more violently. Then she heard this person add: “Including mine.”
Imagining that scene, Yao Huang immediately retreated, her reason also being the one that had always hung in her heart: “Let’s lie down instead. I’m afraid of crushing Your Highness’s legs.”
She always felt that the prince’s legs were more fragile than a normal person’s and needed careful treatment—they couldn’t be pressed or struck.
At another time, Zhao Sui might have overthought because of the princess consort’s words, but at this moment he paid no mind. However, letting her be frightened a bit was also good—a timid princess consort would be more willing to cooperate with him.
Thus, Yao Huang heard the prince’s lifeless voice: “It won’t be worse than it is now.”
Yao Huang: “…”
She was wrong. She shouldn’t have mentioned anything about legs or being worse. The prince must have been touched on a sore spot by her careless words, which was why he had become cold.
Yao Huang looked over anxiously: “Your Highness, I didn’t mean it.”
Zhao Sui: “I know.”
After a brief silence, Zhao Sui continued what he had been about to do, while Yao Huang simply closed her eyes and no longer dared to say another word.
Facts proved that Prince Hui’s legs indeed hadn’t been crushed any worse by her. However, Yao Huang’s knees had turned red from prolonged contact with the cool bamboo mat.
When busy, Yao Huang hadn’t noticed any discomfort, but when they finally finished and she could get down, with this movement, Yao Huang immediately cried out in pain.
Zhao Sui lay facing upward against the welcoming pillow, his upper body supported by the welcoming pillow and bed enclosure. Hearing the sound, he looked down and happened to see her left knee raised with a furrowed brow—bright red all over, alarmingly conspicuous against the surrounding snow-white skin.
Zhao Sui immediately sat up properly and held her to the side, carefully examining her two calves. Fortunately, the manor’s bamboo mats were woven fine and smooth, so they hadn’t abraded the princess consort’s skin.
That was still enough to make Yao Huang feel wronged. While grabbing her inner garments and trousers to cover herself, she quietly complained to him: “I said to go to the bed, but Your Highness insisted on doing it here. You were comfortable, but I suffered.”
During that last quarter-hour, Zhao Sui had indeed only thought of himself. Avoiding her gaze, he said: “From now on, I’ll listen to you. The manor has medicinal ointment. Have a maid fetch it.”
Yao Huang was both embarrassed and annoyed: “As if afraid others won’t know what we did, is that it?”
Zhao Sui: “…”
Yao Huang pressed the knee that was reddest. In just this short time since turning over, it no longer hurt as much. Breathing a sigh of relief, she said: “Sleep properly through the second half of the night, and by tomorrow morning it should be fine.”
Having said this, she secretly glanced at Prince Hui, who was still exposed. When things were intense, she hadn’t dared to look, but now…
Zhao Sui promptly pulled on his inner trousers.
Yao Huang felt both envious and annoyed. The prince’s removing and putting on was so convenient, unlike her—every time she had to find all her clothes again and put them on piece by piece.
“I’m getting down. Your Highness, turn away.”
Zhao Sui cooperatively turned his head aside.
Yao Huang tremblingly dressed in a complete set, then lifted the water kettle to mix two basins of warm water. One basin she brought to the arhat couch for the prince, and one she carried to the washroom for herself.
When she came out, Zhao Sui had also finished wiping himself and was already sitting in the wheelchair.
Yao Huang pushed him back inside the step bed canopy. The married couple lay with clear boundaries, each at one end.
The lamp had already been extinguished, but scenes from the arhat couch still swayed in Yao Huang’s mind. Though different from what the female official had taught her, it wasn’t too far off—merely that the prince had changed from lying flat to leaning back against the welcoming pillow, and ninety-nine percent of the effort had been exerted by the prince.
Pulling the quilt over her head, Yao Huang turned over in the covers. Too embarrassing, too embarrassing—everything had been seen clearly by the prince.
“Don’t smother yourself.” Zhao Sui pulled away the quilt from over her head.
Yao Huang deliberately pulled it back.
Zhao Sui suddenly moved over, tossing aside the quilt and tightly embracing her from behind.
Yao Huang panicked for a moment. After confirming he had no other intentions, she obediently let him hold her, her fingertips lightly moving along his powerful arm: “Tell me, isn’t it miraculous? We’ve only known each other for half a month, and already, already we can do that. Since I grew up, even my mother hasn’t really helped me bathe—it’s all been A’Ji helping.”
Zhao Sui was habitually silent.
Yao Huang: “What’s even more miraculous is that you’re still a prince. Seeing your appearance during the day, keeping everyone at a thousand miles’ distance, who could imagine that once night falls, Your Highness would also…”
Zhao Sui covered her mouth.
Yao Huang pried open his hand, turned around to stare at him, and deliberately said: “What, does Your Highness dare to act but not admit it?”
Zhao Sui: “Keep talking, and in a moment you’ll be crying again.”
Yao Huang: “…”
She secretly pulled some distance between them.
Zhao Sui lay back in his original position: “Sleep. Wake up early tomorrow morning to check the situation. If it affects your walking, we’ll still need to find an excuse to decline the palace banquet.”
Yao Huang immediately obediently went to sleep.
With something on his mind, when Zhao Sui sat up in the early morning, Yao Huang also woke. Without acknowledging him, she first pulled aside the quilt and rolled up her inner trouser legs.
Zhao Sui also had this matter on his mind. Then he saw two fair, well-proportioned calves, with only ten toenails painted bright red with henna.
A fair palm suddenly blocked his eyes: “You’re not allowed to look.”
Zhao Sui thought of the palace banquet and silently moved to the wheelchair.
After breakfast at Ming’an Hall, Zhao Sui said: “We’ll depart at the end of the chen hour. Take your time preparing.”
Yao Huang nodded, watching Qing Ai push Prince Hui away. She wondered what was so good about the Bamboo Courtyard—with less than an hour remaining, this person still insisted on returning to the Bamboo Courtyard.
Yao Huang first brought the four senior maids to look at the painting.
A’Ji: “Too beautiful—simply a celestial maiden descended to earth.”
Bai Ling: “Yes, truly beautiful.”
Chun Yan: “I can imagine the look in His Highness’s eyes when painting the princess consort. Only when one truly likes someone from the bottom of one’s heart can one paint so accurately and so well.”
Qiu Chan: “One afternoon plus the evening—by the way, how long did His Highness paint last night?”
Bai Ling: “Two hours.”
Hearing this, Yao Huang casually said: “It wasn’t that long. He finished painting just after the second watch.”
Bai Ling: “But I saw that the lamp on your side didn’t go out until nearly the third watch…”
Halfway through speaking, Bai Ling suddenly realized that although the inner chamber’s lamp had burned from the second watch until the third watch, that latter hour didn’t mean His Highness was still painting the princess consort.
At this, all four senior maids blushed.
Yao Huang even more wanted to slap her own mouth. Why did she have to add that extra sentence?
Having become familiar with Eunuch Cao, Yao Huang had someone invite him over, having him arrange the painting mounting, since it was her boudoir painting and unsuitable to show to Chief Steward Guo Shu.
Upon seeing the painting, Eunuch Cao praised both the prince and princess consort to the skies.
When the time was about right, the dressed-up Yao Huang came to the front courtyard. She didn’t have to wait long before Qing Ai indeed pushed the prince over. Prince Hui on his rosewood wheelchair wore a brocade robe with a crimson base and ink-colored collar. As long as one didn’t look at his face, he still had the festive joy appropriate for the holiday.
The married couple boarded the carriage. Yao Huang couldn’t contain her excitement: “Your Highness, besides the banquet, are there other ways the palace celebrates the Dragon Boat Festival?”
Zhao Sui: “In previous years, there are dragon boat races, and after the banquet, one watches willow shooting and polo.”
Yao Huang: “I’ve seen dragon boats and polo among the common people too. What is willow shooting?”
Zhao Sui: “A pigeon is placed inside a gourd. The gourd is tied to a willow branch. When the gourd is hit, it breaks open and the pigeon can fly out. Whoever’s pigeon flies highest wins.”
Yao Huang: “Ah, but what if someone has too much strength and shoots the pigeon dead with one arrow…”
Zhao Sui: “The gourd is very light. Once struck by an arrow, it will sway, dissipating the force of the arrow.”
Sway…
Yao Huang glared at him and turned her head away.
Only when Prince Hui saw the princess consort’s face rapidly turn red did he understand why he’d been glared at.