Having grown somewhat familiar with Li Xuandu, and having shared physical intimacy with him, Pu Zhu had gradually come to understand some of his small “preferences” — for instance, he liked her to wrap her arms tightly around his shoulders and neck without letting go.

And also, the kissing of his throat.

Sure enough, at her action, Li Xuandu’s eyelids flickered lightly a few times.

Pu Zhu continued — her mouth did not stop, and neither did her hands. Beneath the cover of the water, they moved slowly downward, her body following her hands and gradually tilting forward, until finally almost her entire person was draped over the rim of the tub and his shoulders and back.

The water’s surface remained calm, wisps of white steam still floating gently above it, yet beneath the surface, undercurrents stirred. Li Xuandu’s expression grew increasingly tense. His right hand suddenly plunged into the water, seized her hand, and stopped her mischief; then he opened his eyes and looked at her.

Her face was flushed crimson, her skin already dampened by the steam, a few loose strands of hair sticking to her cheeks. Her beautiful eyes looked at him, moist and glistening.

“What’s the matter with Your Highness? You won’t allow me to do this to you?”

She asked him softly, her tone carrying a hint of provocation.

Li Xuandu’s throat moved. He closed his eyes for a moment, then with one pull of his hand, Pu Zhu — like a sack — was dragged directly from behind into the bathing tub. The water “splashed” and overflowed, spilling across the floor.

Pu Zhu let out a startled cry, but the sound quickly disappeared.

She was pulled toward him, and with almost no preamble, was very swiftly claimed beneath the water.

His reaction was this intense — Pu Zhu was somewhat surprised.

With two people crammed into the bathing tub, it became very narrow. She was forced to crouch with her body pressed against the tub wall, her fingers gripping the rim tightly to keep from sliding down into the water and drowning.

Her mind was dizzy and muddled, her body as though drained of all bone, swaying and drifting along with the rolling waves of water. The waves gradually quieted, yet she still lay there in that position, ten fingers gripping the tub wall, gripping so tightly her knuckles had turned faintly white. It was only when she heard Li Xuandu behind her exhale a long breath and slowly release her that she suddenly came to her senses.

What was wrong with her. How utterly foolish! The bed had already been positioned — that most crucial final step, how had she forgotten to coax him back onto the bed?

Hadn’t she worked herself to exhaustion for nothing?

She could have wept with frustration.

“Your Highness—”

She bit her lip, turned her head to look at him, and called his name.

Her voice was full of grievance. This made Li Xuandu, withdrawing from the tide of passion, feel dejected and self-reproachful.

He had probably truly been too tired today — or perhaps the experience just now had been too stirring and heated a rush of blood, and he had lost control and finished so quickly.

She was clearly very unsatisfied.

Li Xuandu looked at the delicate face before him bearing an expression of disappointment, and a strange feeling he had never experienced before welled up in his heart — a few parts helplessness, a few parts sweetness, oddly mingled together.

He wanted to satisfy her, to make her happy.

It didn’t matter — he could do it again.

“The water has grown cold. Let me carry you to the bed—”

He said hoarsely, stood up from the water, lifted her body as well, dried off the water droplets, and returned to that bed that had been newly moved to its new position.

The regret and disappointment Pu Zhu had felt a moment ago quickly disappeared.

She received compensation from him.

She had not realized he was so capable. This time she finally got what she had long desired, and carrying with her the satisfaction and exhaustion that followed, she held him and closed her eyes, falling quickly asleep.

Li Xuandu slept until deep in the night and then woke.

She was still fast asleep. Just now she had only curled up a little in his arms and shifted slightly.

Yet he had woken.

The silver charcoal burned long; the brazier before the bed was still quietly burning, its firelight softly diffusing warmth.

Li Xuandu closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the breathing of the woman in his embrace.

In this life of his, he had enjoyed the highest luxuries this world had to offer, and had also experienced suffering that ordinary people could not imagine.

Luxury was like drifting smoke, but suffering left its brands behind.

The momentary pleasure and indulgence, destined to be only temporary, would always recede. When the body became empty once more, the brands left at the bottom of the heart — those were the eternal themes of his life.

In the past he had been very unwilling to think about the future. The Daoist teachings’ open-minded and transcendent discourse on life and death had deeply influenced him.

What joy is there in life, what fear in death.

What a pity that he was ultimately a mortal, unable to achieve the Dao of a heart empty of all things. His maternal homeland, the Que Kingdom, was always an entanglement he could not shed.

Now it seemed he had gained yet another thread of attachment — this very young woman lying in his embrace at this moment, sleeping soundly and without a care in the world.

Regardless of how recklessly and unwelcomely she had forced her way into his world, she had become his wife, and he had taken possession of her. This was a fact.

Even when keeping a pet, one must consider its food, shelter, and comfort.

He bore the title of Prince Qin, his status noble and exalted, everyone addressing him as Your Highness — what could he do for her?

One day, when he met his end with composure, and the people of his maternal Que Kingdom continued to find security and livelihood — what of her? What would become of her?

His imperial elder brother would spare her life; she would turn back and fall into the arms of his nephew Li Chengyu, and continue her dream of becoming Empress.

This was probably her best and most ideal outcome, Li Xuandu surmised.

She herself would probably be willing, he guessed.

But if the Emperor would not tolerate this person who had witnessed his dark side, and if the Crown Prince could not protect her — what fate would await her?

Li Xuandu had witnessed so much killing that he had long grown numb and indifferent. But at the thought of all that bloody carnage descending upon this beautiful body of hers, he suddenly found it too cruel.

A familiar burning and vexing agitation he knew well suddenly surged up his heart without warning, filling his chest cavity; beneath his skin it felt as though needlepoints were pricking everywhere.

He discovered he seemed to have begun bleeding from his nose.

Yet his thoughts could not stop. He thought of the young man from He Xi who had strode past him that day, then the image of that Shen-surnamed man’s dark and somber eyes floated up, and he recalled the scene he had witnessed the previous evening.

The man had held up her embroidered shoe and offered to put it on for her — what such an intimate gesture signified between a man and a woman, being a man himself, how could he be oblivious?

If he could not even protect his own woman…

The nosebleed flowed like water, hot and ceaseless.

Li Xuandu suddenly opened his eyes, glanced at the brazier before the bed, gently removed the arm with which she was holding him, covered his nose with his hand, draped on his robe, got out of bed, and walked outside.

In her sleep, Pu Zhu turned over, instinctively reaching out her hand — it met empty air.

She woke. She discovered Li Xuandu had actually disappeared.

By the faint glow of the brazier’s light, she looked around on all sides.

The tent was only so large — where had he gone in the middle of the night?

Pu Zhu hurriedly threw on her clothes, climbed out of bed, pushed open the curtain door and poked her head out, and saw that Luo Bao had not yet gone to sleep and was quietly talking with a night-duty attendant alongside Ye Xiao. She called out.

Luo Bao walked over.

Pu Zhu asked about the Prince Qin.

Luo Bao hesitated, thinking of the moment earlier when Prince Qin had ordered him not to tell the Princess Consort about his nosebleed from the heat. The words were on his lips and he swallowed them back, then pointed toward the grove behind the tent.

“His Highness went that way.”

Pu Zhu tied on her long outer robe, ordered him to lead her there, and came to a stream that wound through a wooded slope.

Above the open field, the Milky Way flowed like water, stars falling like rain. Beneath a deep blue night sky, Li Xuandu lay on his back on a large stone by the water’s edge, one leg casually bent, a grass stem clenched between his teeth, seemingly asleep.

Her skirt hems rustled like lotus petals, swaying softly. Silently and soundlessly she drew near, and by the light of the stars and moon, gazed at his face, slowly bent down, and said softly: “Your Highness, why have you come here?”

Li Xuandu slowly opened his eyes, looked at her, and did not answer.

Pu Zhu immediately had a feeling that his mood had fallen low again — like the way he had been before she had tempted him earlier that night.

Her fingertips touched the stone, which radiated a cool chill. She said gently: “The stone is cold. Your Highness, let’s go back to sleep.”

This time he was actually obedient; he spat out the grass stem in his mouth, turned over, and sat up.

“Your Highness, what’s wrong? What are you thinking about?”

Pu Zhu was wildly curious about what was in his mind. If she knew his thoughts, she could better deal with him.

But he only shook his head and said: “Nothing, just felt stuffy inside the tent, came out for some fresh air. Let’s go back.”

Pu Zhu sighed inwardly, feeling somewhat helpless. She thought for a moment, then walked to the water’s edge, slipped off one of the shoes from her feet, and tossed it into the middle of the current.

The shoe floated on the water’s surface, slowly drifting downstream.

He looked at her, his expression uncomprehending.

Pu Zhu said: “I don’t want this shoe anymore.” She then took off the other one as well and tossed it into the water together.

Li Xuandu was momentarily stunned, then suddenly seemed to understand, and let out a low laugh. He then shook his head, as though laughing at her childishness.

Playing the fool, watching him finally be coaxed into smiling, Pu Zhu’s mood also lifted. Standing barefoot on the muddy ground at the water’s edge, she waved her hand at him: “Your Highness, come here. I have no shoes — I can’t walk.”

Li Xuandu walked over to her and picked her up. Pu Zhu, with perfect tacit understanding, immediately wrapped both arms tightly around his neck, and was carried back just like that.

The two entered the tent. He set Pu Zhu sitting on the edge of the bed, lit a lamp, fetched a cloth, walked over, lifted her foot, and wiped the mud and dust her soles had picked up from the ground. He cleaned one foot thoroughly, then switched to the other.

Her feet were white and delicate, small and exquisite — being held in his palm like this as he wiped her soles made her ticklish. Pu Zhu could not help but curl her toes, and the tip of her foot moved, as though scratching the palm of his hand.

His hand paused. He said in a low voice: “Don’t be mischievous.”

Pu Zhu was momentarily startled, and then understood.

He thought that even in such a moment she couldn’t resist, and was teasing him on purpose?

Pu Zhu bit her lip, and since he had already misunderstood, she simply went along with it, deliberately scratching his palm with her toes again.

He seemed to be annoyed; he turned his hand over and seized her toes, raised his head, stared at her, his gaze taking on a slightly peculiar quality.

For some reason, Pu Zhu’s heartbeat quickened, and her face grew warm. She didn’t dare meet his gaze, turned her face away as if to avoid him, tried to pull her foot back, made a show of yawning, covered her mouth with her hand, and said vaguely: “I’m still sleepy… I’m going to sleep…”

She fell back — pressed down by Li Xuandu.

The harvest of that night far exceeded her expectations.

Pu Zhu lay with closed eyes, her mind growing dizzy and hazy again, when the little figure in the bottom of her heart once more waved its flag and leaped out, making her think again of this man’s cousin in the distant Que Kingdom. Her mood instantly cooled. Her heart moved. She pushed his face away amid her panting breath and called a halt.

Li Xuandu forcibly restrained himself and watched as she raised her hand and pulled out the hairpin binding his hair, letting it loose, then drew out a strand of it. She also took a strand of her own long hair, and tied the two together, twisting them tightly into a single knot.

She raised a pair of bright eyes to meet his bewildered gaze, and with a flushed face, her red lips parted softly: “Bound hair, thus entwined — thou art my husband. In this lifetime, Your Highness must not betray me.”

Li Xuandu gazed at her, silent for a long moment without a single word, then suddenly gritted his teeth, and thrust fiercely, sending her to the peak of passion.