As the last dish of snow taro was poured into the soup, dishes, and bowls lay scattered across the courtyard.
After everyone finished their final bowl of soup, they set down their chopsticks and dispersed. Yang Wan cleaned up the pots and bowls, then went to wash up in the courtyard.
Deng Ying sat alone on the edge of the bed wrapped in his clothes, waiting for Yang Wan to return.
Occasional bird calls came from the grape vines on the wall. In the surrounding silence, those sounds grew increasingly ethereal.
Before long, the sounds in the courtyard ceased. Yang Wan entered while fixing her hair with one hand.
She wore slippers, their soft pat-pat echoing as she walked back and forth behind the screen.
Deng Ying lowered his book and turned, asking, “Wan-wan, what are you doing?”
“Oh,” Yang Wan responded, “I’m pouring water.”
She emerged carrying a pot of bellflower honey water, setting it by the bed. “Drink this before sleep.”
She handed a cup to Deng Ying, saying, “Come sit up here.”
Deng Ying took the cup and sat on the inner side. Yang Wan pulled up the covers over his legs, then removed her shoes and slipped under the blanket. They sat together holding their cups. Yang Wan watched the steam rising from her cup and casually asked, “When you return to the palace, will you still live by the moat?”
Deng Ying shook his head, “I’ll live behind the Yangxin Gate.”
“Where He Yixian used to live?”
“Yes.”
Yang Wan set down her cup, turned to pull up the covers, and lay on her side next to Deng Ying. “From now on we’ll have to call you Minister Deng.”
Deng Ying remained silent. He closed the book resting on his knees, carefully placed both it and the cup on the bedside table, then shifted to kneel on the bed.
He kept his head lowered, not daring to look at Yang Wan, his hands gripping his knees until the cotton undergarments wrinkled beneath his fingers.
Yang Wan sat up as well, tilting her head to ask, “What do you want to do?”
Deng Ying’s fingers tightened again, “Wan-wan, do you want to?”
“Want what…”
“I’ve bathed, I’m clean.”
He cut off Yang Wan’s words, then closed his eyes and lowered his head like someone awaiting sentencing.
Yang Wan reached for his hands clenched on his knees, but he held tightly to the fabric.
“Deng Ying, let go.”
“Ah? Oh, alright…”
He quickly released his grip. Yang Wan gently lifted his wrists, “You have injuries here.”
Deng Ying looked at his fingers, “Wan-wan, I don’t need to use my hands.”
“I won’t allow it.”
After saying this, she shifted on her knees to sit facing Deng Ying.
“Lie down.”
Deng Ying shook his head, “Let me do it.”
“Not listening to me anymore?”
“No, I’ll listen to you.”
“Then lie down.”
Deng Ying hesitated for a moment, but eventually stretched out his legs and lay back. Once he was settled, Yang Wan leaned over to blow out the nearest lamp, though the light behind the screen remained lit, casting a warm, soft glow through the screen onto the bed curtains.
“Close your eyes.”
“Wan-wan…”
“Don’t worry, just close your eyes.”
Deng Ying closed his eyes and felt a gentle kiss on his forehead. At the same time, a hand clumsily tugged at the sweat cloth around his waist, clearly unsure where the knot’s weakness lay. Deng Ying quickly pressed down on that hand, “Wan-wan, don’t treat me this way.”
The hand gently slipped out from under his palm and stroked his hand’s back, “Alright, then undo it yourself.”
He dared not disobey Yang Wan.
Once the sweat cloth was undone, he had to face what lay beneath his clothes – a battle he was destined to lose. But in Yang Wan’s bed, she wouldn’t let him lose, so he felt he didn’t even deserve the right to forfeit.
“Relax your waist, Deng Ying.”
As she spoke, her palm gently covered where he had been punished, and then her thumb brushed against the gradually growing flesh bud. Since taking charge of the Eastern Depot, he no longer had to undergo the triennial “pruning” like other eunuchs. That bit of soft bone left after his punishment gradually regained sensation, capable of bringing fleeting moments of desire and pleasure, though more often just an aching pain. Even so, he hoped Yang Wan wouldn’t “pity” him.
This was Yang Wan, after all.
“Don’t grip the blanket, Deng Ying, hold my other hand.”
She offered him her hand as she spoke.
Deng Ying, afraid of hurting her, only dared to loosely hold her fingers.
“Deng Ying, don’t hold your breath, relax.”
As she spoke, she gently circled her fingers between skin and flesh. Deng Ying’s calves began to twitch slightly, his legs involuntarily straightening as a breath escaped him, leading to heavy breathing.
His body gradually grew sticky with sweat, and Yang Wan’s movements slowed accordingly, finally closing her five fingers between his legs.
But she didn’t immediately withdraw her hand, instead letting it rest there quietly, waiting for Deng Ying to calm down.
She seemed to grow tired of supporting herself, and simply lay down, resting her head on Deng Ying’s body. Her soft long hair cascaded across his chest, bringing inexplicable warmth wherever it touched.
“Tell me when you feel better.”
Deng Ying lowered his head to look at Yang Wan’s face.
The soft lamplight fell across her face; her cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes glistening with moisture. He couldn’t help but reach out to stroke her hair. Yang Wan’s shoulders trembled, but her back softened, allowing Deng Ying’s trembling hand to caress the back of her head.
“Deng Ying.”
“Yes?”
“You told me before that you feel pain, right?”
“Yes.”
“Was it better this time?”
Deng Ying shook his head, “Don’t worry about me, Wan-wan. From now on, let me do it, alright?”
“You’re domineering.”
She gently withdrew her hand as she spoke, laying it flat on Deng Ying’s lower abdomen.
Deng Ying remained silent, slowly propping himself up to sit, supporting Yang Wan’s body to lay her on her side. He dressed himself and got out of bed.
Yang Wan was somewhat tired, her clothes damp with sweat. She coughed once, “Where are you going?”
“To fetch water.”
He walked out behind the screen wearing his slippers.
Yang Wan listened to Deng Ying’s pat-pat footsteps, her eyelids growing heavy. She closed her eyes, and in her drowsy state, someone gently took her hand from under the covers and placed it on their knee. A warm cloth wrapped around her fingers.
Yang Wan forced her eyes open to see Deng Ying crouching beside the bed, head lowered, carefully wiping her fingers one by one.
“You’re not dirty.”
“You’ll feel more comfortable when clean.”
“You’re still foolish.”
“Wan-wan.”
“Hmm?”
Deng Ying paused his movements and looked up at Yang Wan.
“Why won’t you let me use my mouth…”
“Would you want me to use mine?”
“If I let you do that, I would rather die by lingchi.”
“Deng Ying.”
Yang Wan turned her hand to tap the back of his, “Don’t say such things.”
“I’m sorry.”
Yang Wan pulled him to sit on the edge of the bed. “I would enjoy you doing that too, it’s just…”
She looked up at Deng Ying sitting in the lamplight, “It’s just that I can’t bear to let the person I’ll love all my life act foolishly when he doesn’t understand anything himself.”
Deng Ying lowered his head, “Wan-wan, I do understand.”
“Just from reading those few pages of books, you understand?”
“I also asked…”
“Chen Hua?”
“Yes.”
“He’s simple-minded too, what did you two discuss?”
Deng Ying fell silent.
Yang Wan turned to lie on her back, “Healing the wounds in your heart is an extremely difficult thing. I’m not very good at it either, so just be obedient and don’t make it harder for me, alright?”
Deng Ying didn’t fully understand these words, but still agreed: “Alright.”
Yang Wan hugged Deng Ying’s arm hanging by his leg.
“When you stop reading those messy books, I’ll let you do it.”
“I’ve already stopped reading them.”
“But you’re still thinking about it.”
“Yes.”
He paused, then softly admitted: “It’s me, it’s me who wants to do those things like they do, I want you to be happy, Wan-wan.”
Yang Wan smiled, “If you live more freely, I’ll become happy along with you, Deng Ying. Though I’ll manage you for life, I hope what I give you isn’t pity for a servant. I…”
Yang Wan shook Deng Ying’s arm, “I respect you first, then love you. I used to be a very proud person, I wouldn’t even look at the likes of Zhang Luo. You must protect my dignity.”
“I understand.”
“You don’t understand at all.”
“I…”
“Deng Ying.”
Yang Wan leveled her voice, “All my humility towards the Great Ming dynasty stems from your humility. Only when you don’t belittle yourself before me will I maintain my self-respect.”
She fell silent after speaking, but wouldn’t release his arm.
Deng Ying lay back beside her, repeating her recent words in his mind over and over.
“I can’t bear to let the person I’ll love all my life act foolishly when he doesn’t understand anything himself.”
“If you live more freely, I’ll become happy along with you.”
“I respect you first, then love you.”
“All my humility towards the Great Ming dynasty stems from your humility. Only when you don’t belittle yourself before me will I maintain my self-respect.”
These phrases lacked classical elegance, and sometimes even struck Deng Ying as strange.
But over the past three or four years, he seemed to have gradually grown accustomed to them.
She always spoke sincerely. Even when Deng Ying couldn’t fully grasp her meaning, her manner of speaking could still heal him.
Lost in thought, he turned to look at Yang Wan.
Yang Wan had fallen deeply asleep, seemingly exhausted. Her breathing was somewhat heavy, occasionally coughing, her shoulders trembling slightly.
Deng Ying pulled up the blanket behind Yang Wan, gently wrapping her in it. She curled up inside like a warmth-seeking cat.
Her face was flushed but appeared somewhat haggard.
Deng Ying wanted to move the pillow down to make her more comfortable but accidentally saw her notebook tucked under the pillow.
It was open.
On the open page was Yang Wan’s drawing of Deng Ying.
She had colored it, though failed at mixing the skin tone, which appeared somewhat yellow. However, the grey-blue of the clothes matched exactly what he usually wore. The eyes had accidentally smudged, making it look even uglier, but Yang Wan seemed quite satisfied with it, even seriously adding an inscription and seal in the corner like an artist would.
Deng Ying carefully examined the seal, which simply bore the character “Yang Wan.”
Below the seal were the words “cover,” circled in ink as if to remind herself.
Deng Ying carefully put away her notebook, placing it beside Yang Wan’s pillow.
At this moment, he did not know what this woman who always ‘indulged’ his self-destructive tendencies wanted to do for him.
He just really liked that slightly ugly portrait of himself, after all, in this life, he could only expect his appearance to show up on official documents sentencing criminals.