“Growl—”
Startled, Hua Chun turned back to look at him.
The expression on Yuwen Jie’s face remained perfectly composed, showing not the slightest hint of embarrassment. “I’ve been just as busy as you all afternoon, and haven’t eaten dinner either.”
So a growling stomach was only natural then? What was wrong with the Emperor—the Emperor got hungry too!
“Oh…” Accepting his explanation, Hua Chun glanced at the shadows still lingering outside and asked quietly, “Then would you like some too?”
She reached in and pulled out the dried fish, offering it to him ingratiatingly. “My mother made it herself—non-GMO, all-natural, no preservatives.”
The Emperor was stunned for a moment, then gave her an odd look, disdain written plainly across his eyes. “Quiet.”
Talking too much would draw people over—that would be trouble.
Hua Chun startled and immediately behaved herself, crouching in his arms, carefully opening the oil-paper package.
The spicy fragrance spread through the air. With the Emperor right behind her, Hua Chun tried her best to eat with some elegance, not smacking her lips, biting into one strip at a time, chewing carefully and swallowing before taking the next.
The rain grew heavier and heavier. The air held nothing but the smell of dust and dried fish. Yuwen Jie frowned, looking at the dust on her face and her puffed-out cheeks. From the side, behind her ear, he could see her fair white neck.
This person looked exactly like a snow-white rabbit.
Watching her eat so happily, Yuwen Jie grew even hungrier. In all his time as Emperor, he’d never been this hungry before. The pursuers outside hadn’t given up, the imperial guards showed no sign of arriving, and even Eunuch Qin hadn’t returned. It seemed they might really be trapped here for the whole night.
Thinking this over, Yuwen Jie shifted position, leaning against the wall at one end of the beam to conserve his strength.
As it turned out, the person in his arms was clever too—chewing her dried fish, without even turning her head, she shifted along with him. When he leaned back to sit, she scooted over as well, still lying obediently in his arms.
What was wrong with her? The Emperor’s face darkened. If it weren’t for fear that this unskilled person might fall and alert those outside, he really would have wanted to give her a good punch. Two grown men, clinging together like this—did that even make sense!
As if sensing the killing intent behind her, Hua Chun’s puffed cheeks paused. She slowly turned her head to look at him, blinking.
“Your Majesty, for the sake of the imperial health, would you like some too?”
Both paws cupping the oil-paper package, she held it out to him, her expression earnest. “It’s really good.”
He could smell it just fine without her saying so, thank you very much.
Eyes half-lidded, he gazed at the dried fish for a while, then decided to give in, reaching over to pinch off a strip and slowly put it in his mouth, then pulled out a handkerchief to carefully wipe his fingers clean.
Watching his clean fingers for a moment, Hua Chun said quite seriously, “You didn’t need to wipe them.”
They’d have to eat more anyway—how could one strip be enough? Not even enough to fill a cat’s stomach.
Yuwen Jie ignored her, his eyes still fixed outside.
Shrugging, Hua Chun leaned comfortably against him, holding the oil-paper package in one hand and eating with the other. As she ate, she noticed the hand behind her reaching over again, quite naturally continuing to share her snack.
See? Told him so, didn’t she? This kind of snack was the sort that got more addictive the more you ate, especially since neither of them had eaten dinner—how could he possibly hold back after just one strip.
But Hua Chun was a considerate girl and didn’t turn around to call him out on it, simply passing the oil-paper package a bit further toward him without a word.
“Your mother has quite the skill,” the Emperor said, rare praise in his voice, once the two of them had finished the entire package together—apparently satisfied with the meal, his tone had softened considerably.
Hua Chun was delighted to hear it. She folded up the oil-paper package and tucked it back into her sleeve, looking at him as if angling for a reward. “This servant would never dare deceive Your Majesty!”
Yuwen Jie nodded, then thought a moment more. “How many packages of this did you bring into the palace?”
“Just the one,” Hua Chun quickly said, holding up one finger. “Your Majesty, this servant wouldn’t dare bring that many in—I only brought this one package to fill my stomach a bit.”
Was that so? Yuwen Jie looked at her. “Then what about the ones scattered across the front hall of Zichen Hall earlier…”
“That was this same package,” Hua Chun said with a grin, keeping her voice low. “Fortunately I picked them all back up, otherwise there wouldn’t have been nearly enough for the two of us to share.”
Yuwen Jie: “…”
The atmosphere instantly turned tense, the pressure around them dropping by what felt like ten percent.
She’d actually fed him something she’d picked up off the floor!
Who gave her the nerve?!
His face darkening on one side, Yuwen Jie shifted, about to erupt, when the door suddenly opened again.
Without thinking, Hua Chun buried her head against his chest.
“Nothing here either.”
A voice sounded at the door. “Zichen Hall is cut off by the flooding—by rights he shouldn’t be able to leave. And yet we’ve searched dozens of halls and still haven’t found any sign of the Emperor.”
Yuwen Jie’s brow furrowed, and he held his breath, looking down.
The people who’d come were clever—all of them wore masks. One voice sounded familiar to him, but no matter how long he thought about it, he couldn’t place who it belonged to.
After murmuring among themselves for a while, the leader stepped back in and wandered around once more.
His hand tightened. He was tense too, and couldn’t help but hold the person in his arms more firmly.
Like someone holding their breath underwater to hide from a shark, Hua Chun was so terrified that she boldly reached back and hugged the Emperor’s solid waist.
Damn, he actually had abs?
That wasn’t the point, though. The point was, though this Emperor was cold all over and looked frightening, his body was also incredibly solid—hugging him felt surprisingly secure.
Frowning, Yuwen Jie gritted his teeth. Being hugged like this made the tips of his ears inexplicably flush red, but he could only endure it, staying still and silent.
Fortunately, this person’s skills weren’t quite up to par—after searching around, they found nothing and withdrew.
The sky was very dark, beginning to take on a faint blue-black glow. In the middle of the night, the rain stopped. Yuwen Jie had kept his nerves taut the whole time, staring fixedly outside.
The person in his arms smacked their lips and shifted.
He startled slightly and looked down, seeing that the person in his arms had already fallen fast asleep, their small head sliding back and forth against his chest, and whenever it failed to find purchase it would tilt up to rest against his collarbone, then slowly slide back down again, over and over.
How was she managing to sleep so soundly in a situation like this?!
Irritated, Yuwen Jie reached out and pinched her.
“Mm.” Hua Chun mumbled groggily, reaching up to grab at whatever was pinching her, stroking it gently, and murmured while holding it close, “Stop it.”
Her voice was soft and sweet, thick with a heavy sleepy tone.
The sovereign gave a start, looking at her with a complicated expression, then yanked his hand back in disgust.
The water clock dripped on, and Yuwen Jie felt exhausted too, leaning to one side, half-asleep. He felt as though he’d had a very long dream—a dream filled with the fragrance of dried fish, someone’s milky sweet scent, a fair white neck, and hands that held him tightly.
“Your Majesty!”
Eunuch Qin’s voice rang out from outside just as the sky had already grown light. Every corner of the palace had returned to normal, guard posts every ten steps, watch points every five—yesterday’s danger seemed as though it had never happened at all.
Hua Chun was woken by the sound, and opening her eyes, she saw the sovereign’s dark, weary face in the morning light.