Chapter 101: Beauty: Soft Whispers

The night was thick as unyielding ink.

It condensed into mist, dripping from the tips of bamboo leaves like glistening crystals.

The “knock knock” of the door echoed through the courtyard, startling the sparrows resting under the eaves. They flapped their wings in annoyance and flew off to find another perch.

“In the middle of the night… who’s knocking now?” Zhichun stretched out her leg and kicked Aqin, who lay beside her. “This time, it’s your turn to go…”

Aqin, who had been sleeping soundly, was jolted awake. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in a daze.

“Last time, I got the door. Now it’s your turn.”

The little maid nodded obediently.

She draped an outer robe over her shoulders and shuffled groggily toward the door.

“Hm?” Her forehead was stopped by a finger. Aqin forced her eyelids open, her gaze clearing a bit as she realized Zhuyu was blocking the way. She tilted her head and asked, “Sister Zhuyu… why aren’t you resting so late?”

Zhuyu shook her head and gestured: You keep sleeping.

“Knock knock! Knock knock knock…”

“But someone keeps knocking outside. Should we ignore it?” Seeing Zhuyu unmoved, Aqin added, “The Heir Apparent will wake up.”

Sister Zhuyu cared most about the Heir Apparent.

Surely, she’d step aside if Aqin mentioned that.

To Aqin’s surprise, even bringing up the Heir Apparent didn’t change Zhuyu’s mind—she made the same gesture: Go back to sleep.

The knocking outside was so loud.

Even if she didn’t go out, how could she sleep?

As if reading her thoughts, a shadow flashed in Zhuyu’s eyes. She gestured: Don’t worry about it. Go to sleep. It’ll quiet down outside soon.

The knocking showed no sign of stopping.

Aqin hesitated for a moment but ultimately obeyed Zhuyu’s command.

Sister Zhuyu was the Heir Apparent’s trusted aide. No matter what, following her was the safe bet. Aqin comforted herself as she climbed back into bed. But before she could fully lie down, the knocking outside suddenly ceased.

The evening breeze gently lifted damp strands of hair.

The scent of bamboo mingled with the sweetness of apricots.

Entwining and lush, it was shattered by the cool moonlight.

Layers of crimson gauze draped at the elbow crook, revealing a fair wrist. The door opened, and Yan Yiqing’s raised arm fell uselessly. “Oh, the Heir Apparent hasn’t rested yet?”

Her peach-blossom eyes sparkled with blatant mischief.

Someone arched her fine brows slightly, clearly intending to disturb her peaceful dreams.

“About… to rest.” Zhao Huairen’s gaze lingered on Yan Yiqing for a second, her ear tips turning faintly red as she averted her eyes nonchalantly.

She hadn’t thought of it that way before…

But now, it was obvious how much Huairen liked her!

The grievances of being left behind and the fatigue of the journey melted into sweet, soft honey the instant she saw her beloved. It trickled down her throat to her heart, warm and lingering.

The threads of sweetness made Yan Yiqing’s head spin.

She used all her strength to hold herself back from pouncing and stealing a kiss.

The little cat clenched her palm and asked casually, “Do I look good?”

“Not… good…” Before Zhao Huairen could finish her insincere denial, she realized something. Her thin lips pursed as she lifted her gaze to the beauty before her—sure enough, Yan Yiqing was staring at her with playful, triumphant eyes.

“What’s not good?” The little cat feigned confusion, her dark, glossy eyes brimming with mischief as she pressed closer step by step. “Am I not good-looking? Heir Apparent… do you think I look bad? I didn’t know when you started peeking at me?”

Her fingertips curled and uncurled in her sleeves.

Faced with such a rogue little cat, Zhao Huairen was utterly helpless.

“No answer from the Heir Apparent means you’re admitting it, right?”

…Zhao Huairen frowned and glared at the naughty cat, but the moonlight softened her gaze too much. It looked more like petulant coquetry.

“Peeking isn’t a good habit.”

Her long lashes trembled almost imperceptibly. Zhao Huairen’s brows furrowed as she was about to speak, but Yan Yiqing, standing outside the door, raised her brows and drawled slowly, “If the Heir Apparent wants to look anywhere, just tell me. We can do it openly—look as long as you want, anywhere at all…”

Her deliberately drawn-out ending sounded like a fluffy tail.

It brushed lightly past her ear, leaving a faint, tingling itch.

The red at her ear tips spread outward, her cheeks heating up. Zhao Huairen’s thoughts grew chaotic. She hadn’t figured out how to interact with Qingqing yet—the hour was too late; they shouldn’t tangle like this here.

“Cold.”

Zhao Huairen looked toward her upon hearing that, her gaze falling on Yan Yiqing’s still-damp hair tips. Her brows furrowed unconsciously.

“Can we… talk inside?”

Her clear eyes reflected the moonlight.

But in them—there was only one person’s figure.

Noticing her sniffle and the gaze fixed on her, by the time Zhao Huairen snapped back to reality, the little cat had already boldly entered the room.

And she…

Somehow closed the door behind her.

–

She picked up the fire starter from the desk. Flickering candlelight bloomed silently at the woman’s fingertips.

A simple act of lighting the lamp.

Yet Zhao Huairen lingered at the door for quite a while.

Her chaotic thoughts and racing heartbeat were beyond her control. Her thumbnail rubbed repeatedly against her fingertip. She wanted to maintain distance, but the soft gaze from behind—made her lose her usual composure time and again.

“I came to find the Heir Apparent right after my bath.”

Her fingertips involuntarily tightened.

The tension in her shoulders betrayed her panic completely.

Taking in all of Zhao Huairen’s reactions, Yan Yiqing’s lips curved in delight. Sitting at the edge of the couch, she said softly, “After traveling covered in dust, if I’d come to see the Heir Apparent all disheveled… you’d surely despise me.”

How could she ever despise her? Zhao Huairen turned with a frown. Someone was portraying herself as pitiful, yet there wasn’t a trace of grievance on her face.

Teased by Yan Yiqing once more.

The tension in her heart unknowingly faded.

“Since Young Master Yan traveled through wind and dust, you should return to your room and rest early.” Zhao Huairen pursed her lips, her voice laced with deliberate detachment.

Now knowing the reason for Zhao Huairen’s sulking, and being jabbed at again, the little cat couldn’t help muttering, “Such a jealous streak.”

“What did Young Master Yan say?” Zhao Huairen asked with a frown.

“I said,” pausing for a moment, Yan Yiqing met her gaze and drawled, “the Heir Apparent really cares about me so much~”

Realizing anything she said would be twisted by Yan Yiqing, Zhao Huairen pursed her lips, walked slowly to sit behind the desk, and tried her best to ignore her presence. She was as calm as an unflappable deity.

The warm candlelight danced restlessly.

The light, like melted amber, finely traced the beauty’s silhouette.

Zhao Huairen, with her serene demeanor, was breathtakingly beautiful. The warm glow kissed her forehead gently, casting butterfly-wing shadows under her eyes, trailing slowly down her straight nose bridge—lingering, entwining, caressing her lips.

Beauty was bewitching, yet Yan Yiqing didn’t dare indulge in admiring her too long.

The distant watchman’s call drifted into the room.

At the same moment, she rose from the couch.

The candlelight was blocked by Yan Yiqing’s body. Zhao Huairen looked up at her and asked in a clear voice, “Is Young Master Yan tired?”

Yan Yiqing neither confirmed nor denied.

“If you’re tired, then head back to rest early.” Zhao Huairen closed the book in her hand. Her tone and expression were flawless, without a single crack.

Hiding behind the mask she’d crafted.

This way, she wouldn’t be vulnerable to any threats.

“Still jealous, Heir Apparent?”

A crack appeared at the edge of the mask, but she quickly regained her poised facade. “Jealous? What is Young Master Yan talking about?”

Her rush back to Yanjing wasn’t just from longing.

More importantly, she couldn’t let Huairen be sad and upset alone.

“I want to give the Heir Apparent something.”

Yan Yiqing stood before the desk, backlit, her refined features shrouded in shadow. Zhao Huairen couldn’t see her expression, only hear her voice—but that voice alone conveyed her sincerity.

Her earnest demeanor.

It weighed on Zhao Huairen’s heart like a boulder.

Is it a letter of divorce…? Because I’m too petty, Qingqing has decided to cut ties…

But she has someone else in her heart.

Can’t I even be upset for a couple of days?

Sourness and grievance churned in her throat, even breathing brought dull pain. Zhao Huairen had never imagined this outcome. Unfamiliar agony roiled in her chest. She lowered her eyes quietly, her voice soft:

“I’m not angry anymore.”

Yan Yiqing, who had just pulled out the faded hair ribbon, tilted her head upon hearing this. She hadn’t expected her wife to be so easily appeased.

“Could you—”

Warmth covered the back of her hand, interrupting Zhao Huairen.

She lifted her eyes; her crystalline pupils were misted with tears.

“I can’t tell you… her identity yet, but this isn’t what you think it is right now.”

Her jet-black lashes trembled.

A teardrop hung at the corner of her eye, not quite falling.

The study light was too dim; Yan Yiqing didn’t see the tears in her beloved’s eyes. She coaxed softly, over and over: “I’ll tell you everything eventually. We’ll take it slow, okay? Anything you want to know, as long as I know it, I’ll tell you no matter what.”

“It was my fault—I didn’t notice that day in the carriage… And now… I can’t tell you her identity yet, but… will you believe me?”

The unexpected response stunned Zhao Huairen.

She’d imagined Yan Yiqing dodging the topic, or abandoning her.

But never—

That she’d coax her so carefully.

Interpreting Zhao Huairen’s silence as dissatisfaction, Yan Yiqing bit her lip lightly and placed the faded hair ribbon in her hand, saying in the gentlest tone of her life: “I can’t throw it away, but I can give it to you. You can do whatever you want with it.”

Her gentleness burned hotter than winter sun.

Melting the ice, even dying orchids would strive to live for it.

Her clenched fist slowly relaxed. That tear didn’t fall but seeped into her body, leaving a mark belonging solely to Yan Yiqing in the softest corner of her heart.

The warm golden candlefire swayed gently on the wall, rippling outward.

Unlike their owner’s caution.

In the silence, their shadows had long overlapped.

Time passed quietly like this, until the bitterness in her throat was swallowed, until her voice no longer trembled. Only then did Zhao Huairen ask dully, “Why?”

“Why?” Yan Yiqing, who had been awaiting her verdict, was stunned for a moment before furrowing her pretty brows. “Is the Heir Apparent asking why I can’t tell you her identity yet?”

Zhao Huairen shook her head lightly. “It’s you.”

“Me?”

Qingqing had already made it obvious enough.

But her insatiable heart greedily wanted more.

Her slender fingers brushed her eye corner inadvertently, wiping away the fragile trace. Her voice, like melted snow water, was cool yet moist: “Young Master Yan, why do you care about my thoughts?”

“Because it’s you.” Yan Yiqing blurted out without thinking.

She didn’t hear the answer she craved.

Disappointment flickered in her eyes, yet her lips curved unconsciously.

“Hm?” The master web-weaver guided patiently. Zhao Huairen stared intently at her, her voice steady and composed: “Am I… anything special to you?”

Yan Yiqing pursed her lips.

About to answer, she suddenly understood the little scheme.

“What does the Heir Apparent want to hear?”

Her ploy seen through, Zhao Huairen calmly withdrew her gaze, picked up the book from the desk corner, turned to the bookshelf, and said indifferently: “What would I want to—”

“I like you.”

Hearing that abruptly.

“Thud.” The book in her hand crashed to the floor.

Hearing the heavy thud, Yan Yiqing helplessly pursed her lips, circled in front of Zhao Huairen, squatted down, and picked up the book. “Wasn’t this what you wanted to hear? How… did it scare you silly?”