Chapter 104: Saliva: A Tangled Heart

The hem of her cyan robe lightly brushed against the doorframe as Zhao Huairen turned sideways and asked warmly, “Would Young Master Yan care to come into the study for a seat?”

Her fluffy tail had long since stood straight up on end.

Yan Maomao nodded and strode boldly into the study.

Incredulity flashed in Zhichun’s eyes. She rubbed them vigorously before daring to believe it was real—the Heir Apparent had actually invited Young Master Yan inside?!

“Go fetch some water. I need to wash up.”

The clear, melodious voice pulled her back to reality. Zhichun withdrew her gaze and bowed her head. “Yes.”

…

Dewdrops glistened as they melted under the sunlight.

Bamboo leaves swayed in the wind, wafting their fresh green fragrance.

Zhichun carried the copper basin ahead, while Aqin followed closely behind, holding a sandalwood tray laden with fine salt for cleaning teeth and a piece of silk gauze.

“Sister Zhichun, is the Heir Apparent about to move back to the main residence?”

Catching the anticipation in her tone, Zhichun turned her head, frowning. “What are you so excited about?”

“If the Heir Apparent moves back to the main residence, we’ll have it much easier. Not to mention anything else,” Aqin said, glancing down at the tray in her hands, “these things can’t be kept in the study. If she moves back, we won’t have to keep running back and forth with them.”

“I like running back and forth!” Zhichun stomped her foot and quickened her pace.

Aqin sighed.

She hurried to catch up.

Knock knock. Aqin lightly rapped on the door. “Heir Apparent, the washing items are all prepared.”

“Come in.”

When Yan Yiqing opened the door, Zhichun, standing beside Aqin, turned her face away, a flicker of dejected shadow in her eyes.

The study’s windows were fully open.

The woman stood by the window, carefully arranging the crape myrtle in a vase.

Her jade-like fingers moved deftly and lightly. The summer breeze lifted her strands of hair, and her pale brown phoenix eyes held a serene gentleness. In an instant, the artfully arranged flowers bloomed under her fingertips, the light purple buds seeming to come alive.

“The Heir Apparent knows how to do this too?” After helping them through the door, Yan Yiqing turned her head and immediately noticed Zhao Huairen’s handiwork.

Catching the trace of admiration in her gaze.

Her long lashes trembled lightly, and the corners of Zhao Huairen’s lips curved into a faint arc.

“I know a little.”

“How is this just ‘a little’?” Yan Yiqing shook her head exaggeratedly, walked to her wife’s side, and praised without reservation. “This bunch of crape myrtle was merely fresh and seasonal before, but after passing through the Heir Apparent’s hands, it has been transformed, displaying its full splendor.”

She had only learned the basics of flower arranging as a child, so Zhao Huairen knew she was just coaxing her. Yet her heart—filled with even greater joy.

The faint, sweet floral scent enveloped them.

In that moment, time slowed, and a silent softness quietly spread.

Watching them exchange glances, Zhichun gripped the edge of the copper basin tightly, her gaze complicated. She hadn’t even known the Heir Apparent could arrange flowers. All those flowers she’d brought before, the Heir Apparent had never touched them. But once she knew they were from Young Master Yan…

Clang. The copper basin was set down heavily on the stand, the crisp sound shattering the atmosphere between the two.

“I’ll wash up first.”

Yan Yiqing glanced impassively at Zhichun, then turned back to Zhao Huairen with a soft voice. “Let me do it.”

“You?”

“Does the Heir Apparent not trust me?” Maomao raised a brow.

“It’s just washing up—how could trust come into—”

“Since trust isn’t an issue, then the Heir Apparent chooses to trust me.” Yan Yiqing cut her off before she could finish, her palm resting on her shoulder as her clear voice rang out. “I’ll help the Heir Apparent wash up. You two can leave now.”

She was even snatching this task?!

Zhichun’s eyes widened like a rabbit whose radish had been stolen.

Seeing her little cat competing with Zhichun again, Zhao Huairen helplessly pressed her lips together. Her gaze swept over Zhichun and Aqin, and she said warmly, “Since Madam says so, set the things down and go rest for a bit.”

“Yes!” Aqin responded swiftly and immediately set down her tray.

Zhichun, who should have replied, remained silent. Only after Aqin tugged at her sleeve did she finally move, leaving the study without a word.

Aqin gently closed the study door.

The miscellaneous noises faded away, leaving only the two wives in the room.

“You sit and read for a bit.” Zhao Huairen had only gone along to save Yan Yiqing face; she didn’t truly want her washing her up. Once Zhichun and Aqin left, she headed to the basin stand herself.

“Ah, the Heir Apparent must think I’m clumsy, not as deft as Zhichun and Aqin…”

Yan Yiqing struck a pose like Xishi holding her heart.

She gazed at her with feigned grievance, as if deeply hurt.

…What a punchable little cat. She really wanted to kick her.

Not getting the response she wanted, Yan Yiqing sighed mournfully, drawing out her ending tone to sound even more aggrieved. “I see now—I lacked the insight. I understand. I’ll go call them back right away.”

She wiped at nonexistent tears in the corner of her eye.

Sniffled pitifully, and walked toward the door.

One step, two steps… five steps. Her fingers touched the door—and Zhao Huairen still hadn’t called her back.

“What’s this? Can’t Young Master Yan push the door?”

The woman’s voice drifted into her ear on a breeze.

As pleasant to the ear as ever.

A faint smile, like jewels falling on a chessboard.

Realizing the other was watching her “joke,” Yan Yiqing dropped the act. She turned to the smiling Zhao Huairen and lifted her chin. “I want to help you wash. You’ve bathed me before— what’s washing your face?”

Zhao Huairen’s ear tips heated slightly. “That was just… wiping your body.”

“You didn’t touch?”

…Afraid that if the argument continued, some outrageous words she didn’t even dare hear would come from Yan Yiqing’s mouth. Zhao Huairen walked slowly to stand before her, lowered her crow-black lashes, and nodded obediently.

“There! Heir Apparent, go sit over there~” Yan Maomao directed triumphantly.

Her long lashes trembled almost imperceptibly.

The woman obeyed her command and sat down properly.

Her gaze swept over the reddened ear tips. Yan Yiqing struggled to control the curve of her lips, feigning calm as she lowered her head and opened the small brocade box holding the fine salt.

Her fingertips, slightly callused, wrapped around the silk gauze.

She dipped it lightly in the water, then added some salt.

The routine action, under Zhao Huairen’s gaze, took on a different meaning.

“I’ll do it myself—”

Her dark, glossy eyes shimmered with watery light.

Meeting her gaze, Zhao Huairen swallowed her refusal.

“If it’s too hard, tell me.” Yan Yiqing carefully lifted her chin with her left hand, her eyes unusually focused, even her breathing soft. “Open your mouth…”

Her curled lashes were like butterfly wings.

Beaded with mist, they trembled in tension and fluster.

“Open your mouth.” Her fingertip pressed a bit harder, like a reminder—or some urging.

The position was too embarrassing. Zhao Huairen wanted to pull away but feared tugging at her not-yet-healed wounds.

In the end, she closed her eyes.

Her lips parted slightly, resigning herself to her manipulations.

Her dark eyes suddenly darkened. Yan Yiqing held her breath as the pad of her finger, wrapped in gauze, gently pressed against her canine tooth, grinding meticulously. “The Heir Apparent is too stingy… Open wider. It won’t get clean like this.”

Her hands on her knees clenched into fists.

Hearing this, Zhao Huairen displeasedly opened her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Yan Yiqing asked softly.

…Qingqing had said it so plainly, but… was she overthinking? Her stiff shoulders tightened further. Zhao Huairen tried to ignore the odd sensation and parted her lips a bit more to accommodate her.

Vermilion glowed against her white teeth.

The ambiguous color seemed to deepen.

“Good girl.”

At the praise, her sword brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. Zhao Huairen silently recited scriptures in her mind, trying to halt her wandering thoughts.

The bamboo-scented salt dissolved between her teeth.

Her tongue tip stung from the saltiness, saliva flowing uncontrollably.

Was it her imagination?

Why did it feel like Qingqing had been at it for so long?

Her curled lashes trembled faintly. Zhao Huairen looked up at her. Her perfectly shaped lips pressed into a straight line, her gaze fixed intently on her own lips and teeth—Qingqing hadn’t even noticed her eyes were open…

Qingqing was so serious.

It was all her own filthy mind.

Her reason already teetering, staring at that pinkness, Yan Yiqing’s heart nearly leaped from her throat. She knew if she delayed further, it would look suspicious. Time to stop—but there was an unfilled emptiness.

Her aloof eyes misted with vivid haze.

Soft, sweet vermilion right at her fingertips.

Taking in the beauty’s aroused hue, Yan Yiqing’s breathing tightened. She bit her tongue hard to regain reason, then returned the gauze-wrapped finger to the canine tooth, rubbing gently.

“All done…”

Her voice carried a husky rasp.

As her fingertip left her lips, it drew a thin silver thread.

Yan Yiqing stared at the cool trace on her finger. Her already dark eyes deepened further, like a leopard denied its meat, blatant dissatisfaction in her gaze.

When Zhao Huairen opened her eyes.

She met that look—like she wanted to devour her whole.

Her pale brown phoenix eyes misted with dampness. The goddess goddess pressed her powdered thin lips and said, her voice hotter than usual: “Young Master Yan… why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’ve seen how beautiful the Heir Apparent is many times.”

But hearing it again—

Zhao Huairen still couldn’t help her heart from fluttering.

“I want to rinse my mouth. It’s all salty.” Her long lashes cast faint shadows as Zhao Huairen looked down.

“Okay.”

She took the porcelain cup she handed over.

The cold touch restored some of Zhao Huairen’s reason.

The Heir Apparent, heart in turmoil, pretended composure as she rinsed and drank some water until the heat in her cheeks fully faded. Then she looked up for her little cat—only to find her little cat washing her own face.

“Aren’t you supposed to wash my face for me, Young Master Yan?”

How…

Had she started with herself?

Even cold water splashing her face did no good. Now, whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Huairen’s watery eyes… that pink tongue tip, even that cool, clear bodily fragrance etched into her brain.

“I didn’t sleep well last night. My head… suddenly feels dizzy.” Yan Yiqing’s voice came muffled through the cotton cloth, dull and hoarse.

Hearing this, Zhao Huairen.

Silently lowered her gaze, a trace of embarrassment flashing in her eyes.

This pace was too slow… She wanted it faster, wanted sooner to live peacefully with Huairen. Yan Yiqing’s fingers tightened on the cotton cloth. She looked down at Zhao Huairen and said softly, “I’m going to enter the palace today.”

“Mm.”

Zhao Huairen wasn’t surprised.

The imperial envoy had returned to the capital and needed to report to the throne.

“I’ll obtain the imperial edict for the transfer.” Yan Yiqing met her eyes, paused, then added, “After that, will the Heir Apparent accompany me to meet someone?”