Chapter 47: The Enchanting and Shadowy State Preceptor

No!

This was Lu Yihuan. She couldn’t.

The body that had leaned forward froze in place. Staring at the familiar, beautiful face before her, Jiang Li panicked and leaned back, her legs growing weak.

What was she doing? She had actually wanted to kiss Lu Yihuan.

Which friends kissed each other?

She had come back to her senses… What a pity…

As the person before her panicked and shrank back, Lu Yihuan blinked regretfully. The pitiful expression that had briefly surfaced vanished from her eyes, replaced by a faint smile.

But how could she let food that had practically been delivered to her lips slip away?

Those soft, plump lips seemed tense under Lu Yihuan’s gaze, pursing tighter and tighter. The tip of the tongue that had peeked out was now hidden away.

They were so beautiful, after all.

Those lips glistened and curved upward, as full and enticing as the pastries she had seen earlier that day at a street-side shop—each one exquisite and crystalline, their aroma and allure laid bare to tempt every passerby.

Since the pastries had been offered right to her mouth, she had no reason to refuse.

Lu Yihuan extended her wrist, her sleeve draping over Jiang Li’s shoulder. A bamboo leaf traced down along the trembling blade of her shoulder, like a butterfly alighting on green bamboo, its wings fluttering as if ready to take flight on the breeze.

Lu Yihuan moved slowly, intent on planting that bamboo leaf on Jiang Li’s body, imprinting her mark upon her.

The wrist gripped in her hand pulsed steadily. Lu Yihuan didn’t seem startled by her at all, and Jiang Li’s racing heart gradually calmed. As long as Lu Yihuan didn’t mind…

The next second—

Jiang Li’s eyes widened slightly, shock flashing through her clear pupils. They went round and froze in place.

On an utterly ordinary night, with the evening breeze rippling around them, she watched in disbelief as the cold, luminous moon in the sky bent down toward her, trailing its silvery glow.

It landed a gentle kiss upon her lips.

The moon was cold, but the kiss was hot.

In her ears rang the tender voice of that moonlit crescent, confessing her selfish desires and longings. Moonlight she had never dared to dream of was now being thrust into her arms.

“Your Highness, cherish it well. Love it dearly.”

“Will you?”

Hot breath washed over her lips. The two thin petals pressed together intimately, Lu Yihuan merely resting lightly against them, savoring Jiang Li’s warmth.

This person had always been hot.

Hot when held in her arms, hot when she pressed close, hot where her lips had kissed her neck and collarbone—even the water that flowed from her burned like fire.

As Lu Yihuan spoke, she didn’t pull her body back, only withdrawing her lips slightly. The breath from her words brushed directly against Jiang Li’s lips, moist and teasingly itchy.

Instinctively, Jiang Li wanted to lick her lower lip, to wipe away the trace left by the other woman.

But the moment her tongue tip flicked out, she caught a glint of amusement in Lu Yihuan’s eyes. With the words, “It seems Your Highness likes it too,” the lips that had been still against hers began to stir restlessly.

Mmm!

The movements on her lips grew fervent. Jiang Li’s eyes widened in surprise, her plump lips parting slightly and giving the patient visitor at the gate an opening.

Lu Yihuan seized the opportunity without hesitation, devouring the treat fed to her mouth. The arm draped over Jiang Li’s shoulder slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as she twisted her head to deepen the kiss.

Their noses brushed aside, Lu Yihuan’s high bridge pressing into Jiang Li’s cheek, pinning it in place.

It wasn’t proactive itself, but Lu Yihuan knew it well enough to coax it forth effortlessly, drawing it into a intimate, entwining dance with her own.

Before she knew it, Jiang Li lost herself to the spell. Her tongue tip and surface followed along, biting and twining in a hazy romance.

The lips were soft, and sweet too. The breaths she drew were like morning dew dripping from rose petals—a night’s anticipation had made the flower all the more alluring. In their back-and-forth, she grew slick, steeped in the rosy, intoxicating fragrance.

Just moments ago, it had hung cold in the heavens like a bright moon. Now, lost in the kiss upon her lips and tongue, it resembled a charm demon behind the moon, devouring souls.

Jiang Li felt as if her very soul might be sucked away through that tongue.

The air in her mouth was steadily stolen. Blushes bloomed uncontrollably across her face. The mounting pleasure built to an unbearable peak, and Jiang Li let out a soft whimper, beginning to struggle.

Afraid she couldn’t withstand more, she unwittingly gripped Lu Yihuan’s wrist tighter amid her struggles, forcing her to stay put.

The distance between them shrank further as her mind fogged, drawing them ever stickier together.

Something in Lu Yihuan must have been ignited. In a few heated breaths, Jiang Li found herself pressed toward her, every last gasp claimed and plundered utterly, without mercy.

Her long lashes trembled again and again. The clear lake of her heart was muddied and churned by another, seeming sullied—and so it concealed her true feelings.

All she wanted was this momentary indulgence in the exquisite taste.

The hand at the back of her neck clamped tighter, fingers sliding over the soft skin, patting and soothing it gently before forcing it more firmly toward her.

Jiang Li harbored no thought of resistance. Embraced like this, she submissively offered her neck to Lu Yihuan, her long, curled lashes quivering faintly.

Lu Yihuan wanted Jiang Li to fall willingly.

So she yielded a sliver of chance for counterattack.

Let me see, then. Will you pull away, Your Highness, or continue this stolen kiss with your “friend” here~?

Amusement flickered in Lu Yihuan’s eyes. The hand on Jiang Li’s nape slowly loosened, and the soft tongue that had been entwined from the start stilled as well.

She waited for Jiang Li’s move.

Years ago, fueled by youthful vigor and swift reflexes, she had seized victory in several battles despite setbacks along the way, claiming the enemy’s banners.

The thrill of capturing those flags had been like thunderous drums pounding in her ears, stirring the blood amid whirling sands.

This moment felt strikingly similar.

The same exhilaration, the same surge in her chest. A spark of flame, tossed into dry tinder, ignited a blaze.

She loved it.

The tree trunk’s texture pressed clearer against her back as the force from the body before her grew.

Her mouth and nose filled with the woman’s fragrance, intoxicating her, while the fireworks blooming before her eyes dazzled to their peak.

The fireworks were fleeting yet endless, the scent the fuse that kept igniting them without cease. Jiang Li was captivated by the splendor.

Or perhaps it was the excuse she gave herself, letting her sink even in sobriety.

The taste before her was simply too divine. In a flash, the soft sweetness on her lips evoked memories of more.

The same fragrance, the same softness.

Gifts from the same woman, in different forms.

The unique tender allure of a woman’s body, as if it could encompass all things, drawing even her small self into its embrace.

Her cheeks cradled by soft white clouds, her breaths turned to misty rain, pattering down generously to moisten the parched surface, giving back all she could offer.

Even in the depth of passion, Jiang Li vaguely recalled that moment—gazing up at the woman like an untouchable deity, her brows and eyes forbidding intrusion.

Yet she had profaned it, with the goddess’s silent permission.

She treated the goddess’s indulgence as her ace, rolling wildly atop the clouds, adorning herself with the dew and nectar she had gathered, hanging them like dripping red plums from crimson branches.

The woman hadn’t known her dew would be used thus when she coaxed it forth; mist veiled her eyes, but beneath it burned excitement.

That fervor fixed on the trembling red plum before her. Afraid to waste the hard-won dew, Jiang Li furrowed her brow, sweat beading on her forehead.

In the end, she reached out and pinched it directly.

Trapping it between her fingertips.

As the dew rained down, the red plum quivered, seemingly drinking it through its seams—but there was too much, overflowing with excess nourishment.

Watching the dew drip wastefully onto the translucent white surface, Jiang Li leaned in, taking the surplus into her mouth with a savoring smack, her tongue caressing the shuddering plum.

After much effort, she had distilled it.

Red plum dew, just two small cups’ worth—but it was her own concoction, and Jiang Li had no intention of sharing.

Leaning forward, she drank it all clean.

How could one enjoy fine dew without a melody to heighten the pleasure?

Lu Yihuan would gladly play one just for Jiang Li, but she refused to let her have her way so easily. Arching a brow with a hint of provocation, she teased the beautiful woman pressed close to her cheek.

“If you want to hear a tune… you’ll have to play it yourself. Let’s see if you have the skill.”

Jiang Li had never learned to play her favorite melodies, only improvising now with the instrument before her—hooking left, pressing right, coaxing out the notes she desired.

The intermittent tune rang in her ears, now lingering, now sharp—but she had made it sing.

At last, the red plum dew she had crafted found its taster. Burying her face, Lu Yihuan savored it, inhaling the soft fragrance pressing into her nostrils, listening to the enchanting sounds at her ear.

Soft warmth and yielding jade—a silent seduction that hooked the soul completely, impossible to resist.

Even after reminding herself a hundred, a thousand times that it was absolutely forbidden, Jiang Li succumbed every time, unable to withdraw.

The flower buds unfurled under the soft fragrance’s, her whole body steeped in comfort.

Lu Yihuan knew she had won this battle of temptation with her body as the lure.

The Jiang Li before her was utterly lost in it. Peach blossoms bloomed wildly on her cheeks, her lip color long since kissed away in their exchanges.

The flush was like a rosy glow bathing her face. Lu Yihuan thought it far lovelier than any powder she usually wore.

If Jiang Li liked it, she would gladly help paint that blush on her face every single day from now on.

Jiang Li’s immersion was shattered by a male voice.

It was loud, a timbre she had never heard, startling her into a shiver. When it mentioned her name, it yanked her abruptly from the rosy haze.

“Everyone’s saying Jiang Li will select a prince consort soon. This king intends to participate—why did you send a cloud crane to stop me?”

“You keep telling this king to wait. Until when, exactly?”

Select a prince consort? This king?

Who was that?

The voice seemed to boom right behind her. Amid her panic, Jiang Li clung to her wits, not daring to shift her feet and make a sound that might alert the pair. She only ducked her head lower.

Enveloped in soft fragrance, her cheek pressed against the smooth, comfortable fabric. Jiang Li shrank further, only for her chosen hiding spot to flush red.

Burying herself there now felt awkward. She tried to lift her head, but a hand from behind pressed her nape down, forbidding any movement.

A husky whisper brushed her ear: “Don’t move.”

Lu Yihuan’s voice was raspy, as if laced with the mingled wetness they had stirred up, not yet swallowed.

Her throat bobbed with a clear gulp.

Jiang Li’s fingers clenched desperately at Lu Yihuan’s waistband. It wasn’t just her face anymore—her ear tips and neck burned crimson too.

Lu Yihuan, you lecher.

Swallowing right by her ear, no less.

Her fingertips tensed on the fabric. Just imagining that her contribution mingled in what Lu Yihuan swallowed made her grip tighten uncontrollably.

Buried against Lu Yihuan’s chest, it was a place where Lu Yihuan couldn’t see her expression.

Belated shame swept through her body, making even her toes curl against the ground. She had kissed Lu Yihuan again.

And when Lu Yihuan had been ready to pull away, it was she who had pinned her tighter, refusing to end it—and kissed even more brazenly.

Jiang Li’s eyes stung hot and red at the corners.

If the timing weren’t so wrong, she would vent the turmoil in her chest.

Buried there, her eyes held not just shyness, but fury at her own inability to resist temptation.

Lu Yihuan had only lured her lightly, and she was hooked—her divine soul scattered, her heart full only of her.

Just a second before Lu Yihuan’s lips had met hers, she had thought they couldn’t kiss. Jiang Li buried her head deeper, feeling gloomy.

So unfair, Lu Yihuan.

So adorable, Jiang Li.

The person pinned by her stayed perfectly still, and Lu Yihuan gazed down, her eyes brimming with intoxicating tenderness—the sated tiger taking a moment to nuzzle its kitten.

Jiang Li disliked ornate accessories. Here for the chancellor’s private banquet, she had simply pinned up her hair.

It gave Lu Yihuan leisure to admire the whorl atop her head.

With both of them obediently nestled in her arms, Lu Yihuan contentedly rested her palm on Jiang Li’s waist. She was hers now.

So what if she had tried to refuse the kiss at first? In the end, it was she who had kissed with wild abandon, unwilling to let go.

Your Highness, you must be more honest from now on.

If not… Lu Yihuan tilted her head, glancing at the pair conversing intently nearby. Her mind wandered wickedly: then she would fuck her honest.

Lu Yihuan’s hand stroked Jiang Li’s nape again and again, like soothing a trembling little cat seeking shelter. Her eyes overflowed with dense affection, laced with a sickly amusement.

It’s fine, Your Highness.

I believe you’ll come to savor the deadly pleasure I offer you.

Her touches grew lighter still. Compared to the soft rustle of her palm through Jiang Li’s hair, the voices of the two nearby were oddly loud—yet clearly restrained.

Leaning against the tree trunk, Lu Yihuan could easily make out their conversation.

Her fingertips idly twined Jiang Li’s silky black strands, smooth as fine silk unfurling in her grasp.

Unlike woven thread, Jiang Li’s hair carried a faint, appealing fragrance that Lu Yihuan quite enjoyed.

Playing with the locks to her heart’s content, she spared some attention for the dialogue. She already knew who they were.

The one calling himself “this king” was Ling Yue, the Ling Kingdom prince who had no business being here.

His interlocutor was none other than Du Qingyuan, all too familiar these days.

From the snippets drifting over, the two had known each other for years.

But now, they seemed to be arguing. Du Qingyuan tried to placate him, but the prince wouldn’t have it.

Arrogance laced Ling Yue’s words, his tone dripping disdain for Du Qingyuan—a classic princely haughtiness.

“Could it be you’ve taken a liking to the chancellor’s daughter and cast our plans aside?”

The words hung in the air, silencing them briefly before Du Qingyuan’s suppressed voice resumed.

He warned Ling Yue, “We’re still in the Prime Minister’s Mansion. You’d best rein in your temper. If we’re discovered, neither of us will walk away unscathed.”

Seeming to heed the veiled threat, Ling Yue’s voice softened, his emotions calming.

When he spoke again, he circled back to the topic.

“Regarding Jiang Li, you must send this king a letter every three days from now on.”

Oh? Lu Yihuan narrowed her eyes, leaning in to hear more. Just then, the lips of the person before her parted, her breath warm against her skin.

Glancing down at Jiang Li, Lu Yihuan was certain: she had brushed somewhere she shouldn’t have.

The body in her arms stiffened slightly. The waist that had relaxed against her now dared not move.

Jiang Li sensed the gaze on her head, inwardly wailing in innocence.

It wasn’t her fault.

In this setting, with a gentle breeze caressing her waist and back, a comfortable “soft pillow” before her, and unable to budge—her eyes closed, drowsiness crept in unbidden.

Who knew a yawn could lead to such a blunder?

Jiang Li’s lips froze, neither biting nor releasing.

This time, it wasn’t Lu Yihuan teasing her—but she couldn’t blame herself, so she inwardly cursed Lu Yihuan’s fabric instead.

The Regent King’s clothes were always so thin. Last time, a tug had stripped it right off. Couldn’t she wear something thicker?

She conveniently ignored how heavy robes could be in this weather.

Lu Yihuan was about to tilt Jiang Li’s chin up when Ling Yue’s voice rose again, its contents demanding her full attention.

“This king will become Jiang Li’s prince consort. Per our agreement, you must cooperate fully.”

Jiang Li’s prince consort?

Lu Yihuan’s gaze darkened, her spine straightening. Looking at the stunned figure against her chest, a chilling smile curved her lips.

Right—she had almost forgotten. The Emperor had decreed that Eldest Princess Jiang Li must select a prince consort soon.

And her Your Highness stood at the pinnacle, adored by countless suitors.

Ling Yue was one, with who-knew-how-many more queuing behind.

Her lashes drooped, murderous chill spilling from her eyes. Jiang Li seemed to sense it, trembling in fear.

Her teeth clenched instinctively.

A faint hook at her lips—Lu Yihuan tightened her hold, pulling her closer. She shifted against the tree trunk, deliberately making noise.

You! What are you doing!?

Hearing the sound by her ear, Jiang Li’s eyes flew wide. Lu Yihuan had done it on purpose! What if they were found?

Lu Yihuan amplified the footsteps, impossible to miss.

Du Qingyuan barked coldly, “Who’s there?”

The pair approached slowly, warily eyeing the rock. Only now did they realize someone lurked behind it—and who knew what they had heard.

Ling Yue shot Du Qingyuan a look.

Their steps drew nearer. Jiang Li struggled to break free but was pinned by the hand at her nape, her hair rubbing insistently against the softness.

Lu Yihuan! Have you lost your mind!

The footsteps closed in. The hand pressed harder, brooking no escape.

Finally, they rounded the rock.

Seeing who it was, Du Qingyuan exclaimed in surprise, “The Regent King?!”

His gaze flicked, naturally catching the person in her intimate embrace.

Two burning stares bored into her back.

Lu Yihuan gazed at the rigid form before her, issuing an ambiguous chuckle from her lips. Leaning to Jiang Li’s ear, she murmured at a volume perfect for all to hear.

“Stop biting, Li Li.”

“If you ruin it, I can only have one side.”