Suddenly surging up to press down and tear off the face covering, Feng Zhiwei executed the motion in one smooth sequence, her movements swift as a startling wind.
Her fingers had just touched the edge of the face covering when the person beneath her let out a low laugh. An arm swept horizontally in a blocking motion, and dark force surged forth, instantly deflecting her fingers away.
Though her fingers were knocked aside, Feng Zhiwei showed not the slightest pause. Her other hand had already shot out like lightning toward the opponent’s throat.
That person’s extended arm suddenly retracted with a sharp movement, and with a bang, elbow tip struck against elbow tip. In the dull sound of flesh colliding with flesh, both let out muffled grunts.
Amid the muffled grunts, dust rose up. In an instant, the man’s waist thrust upward violently as he flipped over, turning heaven and earth as he pressed Feng Zhiwei down. Feng Zhiwei raised her knee and drove it viciously toward his vital area. The man shifted to evade, his eyes behind the mask flashing with dark light. Feng Zhiwei had already arched her back, her body twisting sideways, and with a thud she pressed down on him again, her horizontal elbow pressing against his throat.
The man pinned underneath let out a low cough and scissored his legs. Feng Zhiwei’s suspended leg was immediately caught and twisted, and she rolled across the ground. When she recovered her senses, he had pressed down on her again.
Feng Zhiwei raised her leg to kick forward, striking backward at his back. He dropped his knee with a thud—another muffled impact, another simultaneous muffled grunt.
In an instant, each pressing down on the other repeatedly, they rolled silently across the ground several times. Within the span of mere feet, the two were entangled in close combat, speed against speed—elbow strikes, knee thrusts, finger blocks, punch exchanges. In a continuous crackling like firecrackers, they had already exchanged over a dozen moves in mere moments.
Feng Zhiwei felt all the joints where elbows and knees had collided going numb from the impacts. What she sent out seemed not to be her own limbs. After all, she was female and knew she couldn’t match a man in strength. Single-mindedly wanting to retrieve Gu Nanyi’s jade sword, even as she raised elbows, drove knees, and gripped throats, she extended her hand to search his body for Gu Nanyi’s jade sword.
With this groping, the person underneath happened to be evading her knee attack, his body sliding. Her hand, originally searching around the waist area, somehow ended up touching another region.
Burning hot, soft yet hard, slightly swollen, and with her touch, increasingly restless.
Feng Zhiwei froze, her face suddenly exploding red.
She was a complete pig—now she knew what vital area her wolf claw had grabbed. She hastily withdrew her hand as if she’d grabbed a burning coal.
As she withdrew her hand, the person beneath stopped resisting altogether. He suddenly went limp, spreading out like spring water, and laughed softly: “So this is what you want… feel free to touch.”
His laughter suddenly carried the same soul-stealing, bone-melting quality as that woman’s voice earlier, rippling leisurely through this quiet, fragrant spring night. Distant night insects suddenly chirped unwilling to remain silent, calling out the scorching restlessness stirring in one’s heart this night.
Touch, touch, touch, touch…
Feng Zhiwei froze there, pressing down on someone, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, her hand still suspended in mid-air in a wolf-claw shape, like a romantic thief prowling through bedchambers by moonlight, specifically picking flowers.
That originally very difficult flower now cooperated very nicely lying beneath her, arms and legs spread out with a faint smile, presenting an attitude of “take me as you please, I’m yours for the picking.”
After a long moment grinding her teeth and looking down, Feng Zhiwei considered whether to knock unconscious with one punch this person who’d gone from fierce maiden to wanton woman. Without warning, the person beneath let out a soft laugh, saying: “Embarrassed? Then let me—”
Arms encircling her waist, body flipping, heaven and earth spun as he pressed down on top.
Once on top, his legs immediately scissored around hers, his hands gripped her arms, wrapping around her like an octopus, no longer giving her any chance to break free.
Feng Zhiwei wanted to struggle, but suddenly felt the person on top was burning hot, and where their waists pressed tightly together, it was even harder and hotter. Though she was a virgin, having always disguised herself as a man in official circles and the military—places filled entirely with men—she’d seen and heard plenty of spring palace tales and bawdy stories. She immediately knew that at this moment she absolutely could not provoke him any further, or else any man would likely misfire. And if he misfired, the one who’d enjoy it would be him, while she’d be the one at a loss.
Not daring to move at all, she gradually broke out in sweat. From childhood to adulthood, she’d been strong and composed, conducting fierce deeds with a gentle manner. Even when occasionally appearing yielding and wronged, internally she looked down upon all beings. How could she adapt to this position of being pressed down? That person’s familiar scent drifted over, made even more heart-racing by this impossibly close distance. She stood dazed, her mind completely blank.
In that blank state she only wanted to say something to kill the mood and dispel someone’s romantic thoughts, so she gave a dry laugh: “We’re both men—why should one man make things difficult for another?”
The person above first froze, as if he hadn’t expected her to say something so foolish at this moment. Coming to his senses, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing. After laughing, it seemed the more he thought about it the funnier it became. He actually laughed until his whole body shook uncontrollably, slowly resting his head on her shoulder.
Feng Zhiwei only felt his heavy head resting on her shoulder, his smooth hair cascading onto her face, tickling softly. Gradually she noticed he’d stopped moving, his face buried in her shoulder, pressing down heavily. She didn’t know if he was still savoring the laugh, or if he simply planned to take a nap on her shoulder.
She waited a while longer. Somehow he just remained motionless. Faintly, a strange smell emanated. She suddenly felt uneasy, tentatively extending her hand to push him, saying softly: “Hey—”
With this push he moved, lifting his face from her shoulder. She smelled that scent growing clearer. Turning her head to look at her own shoulder, he pressed down on her shoulder with one hand, reached out to tear off her mask and face covering, and in passing pulled off his own face covering as well.
The two looked at each other and both smiled.
One smiled unwillingly, one smiled helplessly.
In the half-bright, half-dark moonlight, Ning Yi’s eyes seemed like star-filled seas, brimming with surging emotions. Shaking his head lightly, he said: “You… you’ve never let me have peace of mind.”
Feng Zhiwei blinked, her face blank with incomprehension. “Your Highness speaks wrongly. This is Jingshen Palace. I was properly recuperating from my injuries in the palace. But Your Highness, you—instead of standing night watch at Haoyun Pavilion guarding the palace grounds, what are you doing running here?”
Ning Yi gazed at her, his eyes gradually showing a trace of tenderness. Speaking earnestly: “This Prince received His Majesty’s command to visit Lord Wei. Who knew Lord Wei’s bed would be empty and cold, the person gone who knows where. This Prince could only search room by room. With difficulty I found you in this quiet chamber of the side hall, only to have Lord Wei fail to appreciate kindness and suddenly attack this Prince viciously, attempting to ravage this flower… mmph…”
Smiling, Feng Zhiwei pulled her fist out from Ning Yi’s mouth and wiped it on his clothes, saying: “Such a large flower, like a trumpet… mmph…”
Someone sealed her mouth with his lips.
He was gentler than her—she used her fist to block his teasing, he used his lips to take in her mockery. He was more domineering than her—she stuffed her fist into his mouth then immediately withdrew it, but he refused to let go lightly. Lips pressing on her lips, he gave them a suck regardless. In the burning pain, she thought in alarm that tomorrow she’d probably have to face people with pig-butted lips. Just as she was about to struggle, he laughed lowly and pressed upward with ill intent, even rubbing provocatively. Burning hot and hard, lying there horizontally, she’d always been slippery, and immediately surrendered… choosing the lesser of two evils—she couldn’t win fighting, couldn’t scold… fine, kiss then…
She gave up resisting. He wasn’t rushed anymore. Softly he pressed against her face, from forehead to the space between eyebrows to nose to chin, kissing inch by inch. His lips were warm and soft, like silk from Jianghuai Road, warmed by a brazier, tenderly pressed against skin. His breath brushed her face. The former coolness now carried a slight sweetness, profound and bewitching. She suddenly thought of blood-stained mandala flowers blooming at midnight on the shores of the Yellow Springs—demonic and poignantly beautiful, silently beckoning at the ends of the earth. Yet she didn’t know why she’d have such an association. He seemed to notice her distraction and, somewhat annoyed and punishing, lowered his head and kissed her eyelids heavily. Her vision went black and she cried out in alarm. The cry was blocked by his lips—it sounded less like alarm and more like panting, which instead drew out his low laugh. The laughter vibrated slightly between their pressed-together chests. His lips wandered downward, with a trace of greed carefully worshipping the delicacy and freshness of her skin—no heavy powder scent, bright moon-like smoothness, noble and cool-scented breath, bringing to mind snow orchids blooming silently and seductively under the moon with dark fragrance floating. Broken by spring wind, lonely fragrance spreading a thousand miles. Facing such a flower, he wanted to worship but more wanted to plunder. Unable to restrain himself, he gasped lowly and hugged her even more tightly, ten fingers deeply inserted into her temple hair. His tongue tip skillfully pried open her fine teeth, lightly slipping into her moonlit sea. He roamed in that extremely narrow yet extremely vast realm, wandering the four seas, boundlessly joyful.
His gasping sounded in her ear, low and deep. Between his lips and teeth was a strange sweetness, mixing with her cool fragrance. She remained silent throughout, trying to play dead like a zombie, just as she had with Jin Siyu—supposedly that most dampened men’s interest. However, he was extraordinarily familiar with everything about her, familiar enough to understand all her little thoughts and bodily reactions. He wasn’t urgent. While willfully and tenderly savoring her sweetness, he gently caressed her waist. With each light caress she trembled, her body growing softer wave after wave, flowing away like water. She could no longer maintain the zombie act. He laughed lowly, almost smugly, and performed his fingertip craft with even more skilled technique. Those slight tremors, those shifts of mere fractions, like plucking falling petals from strings without making a sound—precious yet teasing. She was after all at the age of budding romance, an eighteen-year-old virgin. Even with such strong willpower, she couldn’t suppress her low, soft gasps. Hearing those alluring low sounds, his heart truly seemed to catch fire. He felt the slender waist between his palms was startlingly delicate, so delicate it was alarming, so delicate it birthed in his heart the mad fantasy of wanting to break it. Yet it was also startlingly resilient, so resilient it seemed even ten thousand pounds of force couldn’t break it. Such extremely contradictory sensations almost drove him mad. Gradually he felt that pool of calm, unhurried heart of his instantly boiled, steaming these bones and flesh, steaming this heaven and earth, steaming the five lakes and four seas of this heart until they would dry up in an instant—seas becoming mulberry fields.
Here was a pool of boundless spring colors in silence, within the silence galloped wild runaway horses. She gradually sensed his abnormality—the two were pressed too tightly together, wearing not much clothing, every slight change felt clearly. She grew increasingly nervous, fingers quietly curling. Just as she was thinking about what method to use to call a halt midway if he truly couldn’t control himself, he let out a low groan, bit his lip, loosened his hands somewhat, and turned his face aside. For a moment they both seemed like refugees, each sighing.
Their sighs emerged simultaneously. They both froze simultaneously, then simultaneously looked at each other. In the moonlight each saw the other’s slightly disheveled hair and confused eyes. In the moonlight each saw in the other’s eyes their own similarly disheveled hair and confused gaze. He smiled, unconcerned yet triumphant. She blushed bright red and hastily turned her eyes away.
Though she turned her eyes away, she couldn’t conceal the blush spreading thread by thread from her temples to the space between her brows, like ripples in spring wind, spreading layer by layer, impossible to restrain. Her forehead gradually showed faint crystalline beads, glinting in the moonlight. He bent down. She trembled in alarm. His hand pressed on her shoulder well point preventing her escape, but didn’t touch her lips again. Instead he carefully kissed away those fine beads of sweat one by one, then smilingly pressed his face against hers, pressing his own face tightly against hers, saying softly: “Zhiwei… rest a moment…”
Feng Zhiwei didn’t speak, listening to his heartbeat. She noticed that after a burst of rapid beating it turned slow and faint, actually showing signs of weakness. Her heart softened and she wanted to check his pulse, but his body pressed on her arm preventing it, so she had no choice but to remain still.
Their originally cool skin now burned hot, touching felt startlingly hot, yet also made one clearly feel the infinite softness beneath that rolling heat.
The two remained quietly nestled together like this. After a tumultuous storm, they finally possessed this rare moment of tranquility. Over a year apart, through all manner of upheavals, separations, life and death trials, she’d always been bobbing in the waves of the mortal world, he’d always steered the boat, hidden behind the wind-fierce wave-high billows pursuing her. Sometimes coming a step closer, just when it seemed they’d join hands together, instantly they’d be scattered by a wave. When the next chance came, the former circumstances had changed—you seemed no longer you, I was no longer I. Wearing skins and masks, in the hazy confusion unable to see each other or oneself clearly.
Who’d have thought that at this moment, in the quiet night in the depths of a secluded palace, they’d finally have this peaceful moment without scheming against each other or mutual suspicion.
In this tranquil, warm moment…
Feng Zhiwei’s stomach suddenly broke the mood with a rumble.
Ning Yi froze, couldn’t help but smile. Feng Zhiwei didn’t blush either, saying resentfully: “I’m recuperating. Your imperial family values frugality and healthy living, doesn’t encourage the injured to eat meat. The food sent daily is so bland even monks would cry seeing it.”
“Are you saying my family starved you?” Ning Yi smiled, moved aside, and pulled her up, saying: “I’m hungry too. Let’s go steal some food.”
Feng Zhiwei stood up with bright eyes but refused, saying: “No, I still need to…” The words stopped halfway.
Ning Yi had always had a crystal-clear heart. A slight sweep of his eyes and he already knew what she was thinking. His face was hidden in shadow, expression unclear, but his tone showed no change: “You’re worried about Gu Nanyi, right? He’s right not to use the Imperial Physicians’ medicine. That bunch of quacks see his cold symptoms and only know to prescribe warming tonics, not knowing that blocking is inferior to releasing. After great cold, clashing with great heat—how could that work? Better to let him quietly practice his energy to expel the cold. I’ve already sent people to guard him. No one will disturb him again.”
Feng Zhiwei remained silent, knowing he spoke correctly. Gu Nanyi indeed couldn’t be disturbed at this moment, but…
Ning Yi tilted his head to look at her and laughed coldly: “I know you suspect me. Tonight you thought it was me who arranged for someone to attack Gu Nanyi, didn’t you?”
Feng Zhiwei pondered briefly and smiled without concealment: “Your Highness’s private meeting in the flower garden came first, secret plotting in the quiet chamber came after. An extraordinary time, extraordinary place, extraordinary person—it’s hard not to be suspicious.”
“It’s that you’ve never trusted me.” Ning Yi said lightly. “I won’t make earnest vows to you. I suppose you wouldn’t believe them anyway. How things turn out, you just watch.”
“Speaking of which,” Feng Zhiwei smiled, “I inadvertently eavesdropped on another of Your Highness’s secrets and interrupted one of Your Highness’s good affairs. I’m truly sorry.”
Though she spoke of apology, her tone held no apologetic meaning whatsoever. Ning Yi’s face emerged from the shadows behind the moonlight, brilliant as white lotus. His eyes suddenly brightened, his tone also changing: “Zhiwei… are you jealous?”
Feng Zhiwei froze, her heart suddenly in disarray. Only then did she realize her previous words had been improper in tone and word choice, truly carrying several parts vinegar flavor. Her face reddened. She thought at this moment she absolutely couldn’t rush to explain—any explanation would only make things worse, any explanation Ning Yi had the ability to interpret into the answer he wanted. So she smiled without speaking, adopting an expression of “your question is so boring therefore I’m very calmly indifferent to such nonsense.”
Also for this reason, though she’d originally wanted to ask clearly about his relationship with that woman, at this moment she felt unable to voice it. Actually, asking or not asking wasn’t necessary. When that woman first struck, the enamel gemstones on her ten fingers had already let Feng Zhiwei basically guess her identity—besides harem concubines of Noble Consort rank or above, who could use such golden, precious nail guards? And that posture stepping on wind and treading moon, naturally seductive yet dignified bearing—besides that Consort Qing from Xiliang who rose from dancer to gain Emperor Tiansheng’s favor, who else could it be?
At the time of Noble Consort Chang’s birthday banquet, this dancer had performed. Ostensibly arranged by the Second Prince, but behind the scenes she’d been secretly communicating with Ning Yi. This man Ning Yi conducted affairs in dark, subtle ways—unless you were in the midst of the situation, you’d never guess what he’d done.
Thinking of that pill, Feng Zhiwei narrowed her eyes. The court had always spread word that this Lady was greatly favored, waiting for the imperial family to add an eleventh prince, yet her belly remained still. Was the old Emperor incapable, or was it this pill’s achievement?
Thinking of the powder that had scattered onto her face, Feng Zhiwei also smiled faintly—it seemed this Consort Qing might not be so obedient after all.
She just didn’t know what transaction Ning Yi had made with her. If there was opportunity in the future, she might as well deal with this Lady.
Her thoughts turned over and over, a bellyful of questions, but knowing that asking Ning Yi wouldn’t yield answers, she temporarily tucked them all away. As for the pill turning to powder, she also didn’t mention it.
Ning Yi looked at her with narrowed eyes, his gaze like a fox foraging under moonlight. After a long while, a trace of amusement gradually rose in his eyes, but he’d already changed the subject. Once again extending his hand to pull her, he smiled: “The more we talk the hungrier I get. Not far outside this Jingshen Palace is a large kitchen. Let’s go find food.”
Feng Zhiwei still wanted to refuse, feeling she could endure the hunger. Suddenly she smelled a strange, familiar scent on her shoulder. Instinctively she turned her head to look.
At this moment Ning Yi’s hand also arrived. Originally coming to pull her hand, somehow seeing her turn her head, that hand suddenly changed direction. A finger lifted, pressing toward her shoulder.
Feng Zhiwei, a martial artist, instinctively dodged. With a ripping sound—who knows who couldn’t control their force—the clothing on her shoulder was torn off in a piece, exposing a stretch of crystalline white shoulder, even revealing a small portion of her chest. The skin there was even more delicate, jade-colored base showing through pale red, ineffably beautiful in the moonlight.
Feng Zhiwei froze, anger showing in her eyes. Ning Yi stood dazed, smiling bitterly: “Why are you struggling?” He tossed aside the scrap of cloth in his hand and removed his outer robe to drape over her. Feng Zhiwei wanted to refuse, but with one movement spring colors greatly leaked, the white skin dazzlingly bright. Ning Yi didn’t insist, smilingly holding the robe and watching, his gaze specifically sweeping over those exposed gaps. Feng Zhiwei had no choice but to let him help drape the robe over her.
The wide outer robe leisurely settled down, carrying the gorgeous cool scent unique to him. Feng Zhiwei gathered the garment front, silent, her eyes glancing at the torn piece of cloth in the corner. In her heart she sighed softly.
Having removed the wide outer robe, Ning Yi still wore his own long robe underneath. With a smile he took her hand and without allowing objection pulled her to run through the deep palace in moonlight. As tonight’s duty minister, he understood the palace guard arrangements very well. Pulling her, dodging left and darting right, he very dashingly passed numerous hidden and visible sentries.
At this time the moon hung at mid-heaven. Spring night flower fragrance was rich as wine. The two ran hand in hand into the wind, long hair and garments billowing like banners in the wind, entangling together with a fierce intimacy. Stars filled the sky rushing toward them from the firmament, rushing into their hearts, then transforming into each other’s bright gazes.
Running, Ning Yi slightly turned his head to look at the woman by his side, waves of light rippling in his eyes. At this moment accompanying her at his side, sleeves full of bright moonlight and her fragrance, letting wind wash over his slightly aching heart—he didn’t feel pain, only exhilaration and a trance-like feeling. Exhilaration that even in this restrictive palace there was this moment of holding her hand in swift flight, even if only an extremely short stretch of road. Trance-like at how difficult this extremely short journey had been to achieve, and she, even in his palm, was so impossible to grasp, like this wind.
Yet he turned his face away in an instant, his gaze looking distantly beyond mountains and seas… All under heaven belongs to the king. Once I grasp this realm, even if you are wind, you can only be wind soaring over my rivers and mountains.
He smiled slightly, his figure flashing as he said softly: “We’re here.”
This was one of the outer court’s large kitchens, specially providing night snacks for guards. Night snacks had just been delivered, doors already closed and fires extinguished. The two entered and without ceremony went straight to the food cabinet. One searched the top, one searched the bottom. After a while Ning Yi tossed down a paper package, smiling: “Rose pine nut cakes!”
At the same time Feng Zhiwei also smilingly tossed up a paper package, saying: “Mugwort rice balls!”
The two paper packages crossed in mid-air. Each caught their package and smiled at each other.
Two people of noble status sat shoulder to shoulder on the kitchen floor rustling as they ate pastries, like a pair of large rats. Feng Zhiwei stuffed her mouth full of pastries, cheeks bulging as she asked: “How did you… know… I like rose… mmph… cakes…”
Ning Yi extended his hand to wipe away a pine nut from the corner of her lips with his finger, smiling without speaking. Thinking, how could I not know what you like to eat? Seeing her eat with such relish, bright dimples appearing at the corners of her lips, an oily bit of pastry crumb in the dimples, he suddenly smiled and leaned over, his tongue tip licking it away.
Feng Zhiwei let out an “ah,” then began coughing, her face flushing bright red—she was choking.
Ning Yi hurriedly patted her back, smiling: “Don’t become the first person choked to death by pine nut cake.”
Feng Zhiwei shot him a look and sat farther away, but heard him say leisurely: “How did you know I like mugwort rice balls?”
Feng Zhiwei’s hand paused.
She… didn’t know he liked mugwort rice balls.
Mugwort rice balls were what she liked, that’s all.
Turning her eyes in a glance, she saw in that person’s usual distant, remote smile something bright and joyful. Suddenly she remembered that lonely person kneeling long on the bridge in the abandoned palace in that rainstorm. Now he enjoyed prominent power and noble honor, yet in this life who truly remembered his preferences, who truly kept his joys, angers, worries, and hatreds in their heart? Perhaps there had been someone, but they’d long been buried in the silent deep palace. By the time he knew, it was already too late.
And all his life, he’d hidden himself at every moment. Even his preferences—he dared not easily let others know.
And she had always avoided him, evaded him, even been wary of him, never truly having the heart to inquire about his preferences.
Suddenly a trace of sourness rose in her heart. She lowered her eyes.
Ning Yi waited a moment without receiving her answer. Being such a perceptive person, he immediately understood. With a self-mocking smile, he said: “Actually I don’t really like them that much.”
Feng Zhiwei slowly finished eating the pastry, smiled, and said: “Two years ago I once encountered Ning Cheng by chance. I saw him going to the De Ji pastry shop on West Street to buy freshly baked rice balls. He said theirs were the best.”
She answered vaguely, but his eyes brightened.
After a long while, he gently stroked her hair and smiled: “No.”
Feng Zhiwei looked at him questioningly.
Ning Yi looked deeply into her eyes.
“The mugwort rice balls eaten tonight are the best of my lifetime.”
Returning from the large kitchen, Ning Yi didn’t follow her further, but returned Gu Nanyi’s jade sword to her. He also found all the rose pine nut cakes and mugwort rice balls from that cabinet, wrapped them up and gave them to her to take back. Feng Zhiwei watched as he also wrapped the rice balls in the package, knowing her well-intentioned lie ultimately hadn’t fooled him. Rarely feeling somewhat guilty, she remained silent.
She carried the pastries back to Jingshen Palace. First she went to Gu Nanyi’s location, looked through the window, and saw he was at a critical juncture in his energy practice. Not daring to disturb him, she returned to her own quarters. While thinking that tomorrow she must find a way to have Emperor Tiansheng send her and Gu Nanyi out of the palace, she also pondered how, seeing that she’d surely be appointed as chief examiner for the spring examinations, she could use this matter to settle some old accounts.
Her chamber was in the innermost section. She walked in deep in thought. The guards on all four sides had been reassigned by Ning Yi, so there weren’t many people patrolling. Feng Zhiwei walked to the palace door and was just about to push it when she suddenly stopped.
She stared at the palace door, her eyes narrowing slightly.
The palace door was slightly ajar, a thread in the door crack fluttering in the wind.
When she left, she’d closed the palace door and placed a red thread at the bottom. If anyone entered or exited, it would be apparent. Now it was very obvious—someone had entered.
Feng Zhiwei stood at the door. After thinking for a long while, she moved her body to one side and slowly extended her hand to push the door.
The heavy palace door opened with a creak.
Opening onto a floor of pale moonlight.
No ambush, no killing intent, no sound of wind—nothing. Everything in the room was shadowy, crouching like beasts in the darkness.
Faintly, a rich, luxurious fragrance drifted over. Feng Zhiwei carefully sniffed and recognized it as the powder scent commonly used by high-ranking palace residents.
A trace of surprise flashed through her eyes—could Consort Qing truly be bold beyond measure, running here to search? An inner palace consort acting so presumptuously—wasn’t she afraid of causing trouble?
However, sniffing carefully, she felt this fragrance was different from Consort Qing’s somewhat seductive scent, slightly lighter.
She carefully stepped in. The room remained silent throughout. Passing the gleaming pearl curtain, she could vaguely see on her bed—someone was there.
The curves of the figure were exquisite, seemingly a woman, sleeping the spring sleep of a crabapple blossom, breathing softly and gracefully.
Feng Zhiwei’s brows furrowed.
The person on the bed seemed to have heard her movement too. Softly half-raising her body, frailly extending a snow-white arm, she laughed: “You damned person… you said you were going out to relieve yourself, why did you take so long to return?”
Moonlight illuminated her face.
Illuminated her completely naked body behind the screen.
In an instant, a thunderous sound exploded in Feng Zhiwei’s heart.
This is bad!