Chapter 87: Wanting to Touch: Utterly Routed

She blurted it out without a second thought.

The curt answer felt like a perfunctory brush-off.

Yan Yiqing set down the porcelain bowl in her hand and lifted her eyelids, casting a sullen glance at her. “The Heir Apparent certainly knows how to talk.”

The curve of her lips pressed downward.

Her gaze carried a faint trace of resentment.

Qingqing didn’t believe her own words? Zhao Huairen’s phoenix eyes lowered slightly as she stirred the barley porridge in the bowl with the spoon, her voice cool and clear: “Wanting to is a reason. As long as you want to, you can do it—that’s what Young Master Yan once told me.”

Blocked by her own words, Yan Maomao wrinkled her nose in dissatisfaction and secretly grumbled in her heart: What a non sequitur… What I wanted to know was clearly the reason she wanted to do it.

“Has Young Master Yan eaten enough?”

The pretty little cat nodded lightly.

Her hair traced a gentle arc behind her waist.

As if still upset by the evasion, the beauty unconsciously bit her lip, her delicate brows clouded with a wisp of dark energy. White gauze wrapped the wound, accentuating her slender collarbone, making it look both pitiable and aggrieved. At that moment, her smooth skin rose and fell with her breathing.

Her gaze subtly skimmed over the wound.

The mischievous pleasure of teasing her gradually gave way to an ache of heartache.

“It’s just that I wanted to do it. To me, Young Master Yan… is an important person.” Zhao Huairen pursed her lips, making her meaning even plainer as her eyes fell on the other’s shoulder. “The wound shouldn’t get wet, so today we’ll just wipe down your body?”

She was an important person to Huairen?

Did that mean—

She now acknowledged her as a friend?!

“What about Zhichun?” Yan Yiqing’s eyes sparkled as she looked at her.

A flicker of confusion passed through her light brown pupils. Zhao Huairen gazed at the little cat, who was visibly much happier, and hesitated: “Zhichun?”

“Is Zhichun important to the Heir Apparent?”

Was Qingqing jealous? Or…? Zhao Huairen’s sword brows furrowed slightly, a thoughtful shadow deepening in her eyes. She answered cautiously: “I only see Zhichun as a child. As for Young Master Yan—”

“Of course I remember what the Heir Apparent said. Zhichun’s sister saved the Heir Apparent back then, so the Heir Apparent only treats Zhichun like a little sister.” Yan Yiqing raised her hand to cut her off, finishing her sentence before pressing on: “What I’m asking is, is she important to the Heir Apparent?”

The fingers gripping the spoon tightened imperceptibly.

Zhao Huairen fell silent for a moment before finally nodding.

Had she become as important to Huairen as Zhichun? Yan Maomao mentally drew an equal sign for herself, but before the smile could fully bloom on her face, another thought struck her.

“I’m not doing the big sister!” Seeing Zhao Huairen look up at her, Yan Maomao subtly pouted and added softly: “And… even less the little sister.”

Zhao Huairen, adept at reading people,

truly couldn’t see through her own wife at all.

“Why isn’t the Heir Apparent saying anything? Did you understand?” Yan Yiqing urged.

“Not the big sister, nor the little sister.” Though Zhao Huairen didn’t grasp what her wife wanted, she went along with her wishes, her gaze gentle. “I understand.”

Finally, she had gotten a firm affirmation.

Stealing a glance at her, Yan Yiqing quietly let out a breath of relief.

That’s right, warm the frog in gradually! With my status as her wife, as long as I spend more time with Huairen and rely on my charm—slowly seduce her, and sooner or later, Huairen will fall for me.

“Does Young Master Yan have anything else to say?” With those sneaky glances fixed on her, Zhao Huairen couldn’t ignore it even if she tried.

“My… my hand is injured…” A blush spread from her ear tips inward, her heartbeat drowning out her breath. Yan Yiqing’s eyes darted as she added: “Wiping my body will need the Heir Apparent’s help. Is that okay?”

She hadn’t been at ease leaving her alone anyway. But with her bringing it up, it felt all the more natural.

Her slender fingers curled slightly. Zhao Huairen stood, cleared away the bowls and utensils they’d used, and her clear voice hid a trace of tension imperceptible to others: “Mm, with the injury, it’s indeed inconvenient.”

The little cat nodded as if it were the most natural thing.

Neither willing to point it out.

What was injured was only her left hand.

–

Steam rose slowly in the air.

Faint, vanishing in an instant.

The moon blushed and hid behind the clouds, leaving only strands of moonlight on the stone bricks, reflecting damp, soft water marks.

A single screen served as a simple partition.

The candlelight sketched her woman’s graceful curves in a few deft strokes.

“Help me.” A lotus-white arm reached out from behind the screen. Yan Yiqing’s voice carried a deliberate seduction, both cute and clumsy: “I… can’t reach my own back.”

Her warm gaze lingered on the wrist for two seconds. As Yan Yiqing hesitated and wanted to pull back—her nail edge scraping her fingertip, bringing a tingling pain—Zhao Huairen finally took the cotton cloth she offered.

Only a step away.

Crossing it, the nearby fragrance grew even clearer.

“Heir Apparent?” Waiting a long time with no touch forthcoming, Yan Yiqing turned around.

A more beautiful sight than imagined appeared before her eyes, but Zhao Huairen’s gaze couldn’t tear away from the old wound on the woman’s body. A one-chi-long knife scar extended down from her right leg, nearly reaching the knee. It had healed well, but the danger it once posed was still evident.

“The Heir Apparent’s eyesight is sharp…”

Thanks to the medicine from Little Aunt.

This was the only scar on her body that wouldn’t fade.

What rotten luck… Why did Huairen have to notice this one?

Her plan to seduce Huairen had failed. Yan Yiqing pouted unwillingly, turned to the empty wall, and grumbled to shift the topic: “This scar may be ugly… but I only got hurt in the leg, while the other guy lost his life. It’s my battle merit.”

“Did it hurt a lot?”

Seeing her attention successfully diverted, Yan Maomao puffed up proudly, about to boast how awesome she’d been—enduring the agony to sever the enemy’s head—when the old wound suddenly itched.

Yan Yiqing’s eyes flew wide. “What are you doing?”

Cool fingertips plucked like strings on a qin.

Gently kissing every inch of her scar.

“That person is already dead?”

Warm breath sprayed on her skin, the hot-and-cool sensation leaving Yan Yiqing at a loss. Looking down at Zhao Huairen kneeling before her, she pursed her lips and said softly: “The Heir Apparent’s clothes are getting dirty.”

“My clothes?” Zhao Huairen looked up at her.

The bathwater she’d used soaked the ground.

The cloud-embroidered hem was drenched and heavy.

Her gazing pupils were like deep, still lakes, swirling with displeasure and many emotions Yan Yiqing couldn’t read.

“He’s dead,” Yan Yiqing said.

The qin notes at her fingertips

warmed after those words, no longer so cold.

Strands of inky hair clung to Zhao Huairen’s cheek, making her skin seem almost transparent. Shattered moonlight dusted her shoulders with pale silver. The snow-white hem and sleeves were stained with water marks. Looking down from above like this,

Huairen resembled a siren emerging from the sea depths.

“What if that person were still alive?” As if bewitched by the beauty beneath her, Yan Yiqing asked this without thinking.

Zhao Huairen said nothing.

But the pressure from her fingertips increased.

The skin beneath her palm dipped slightly. Meeting her downward gaze, Yan Yiqing swallowed, her legs going weak uncontrollably.

So hot…

The bathroom tiles were too wet.

“Heir Apparent.” Only upon speaking did she realize her voice was hoarse beyond recognition. Yan Yiqing squeezed her eyes shut in denial, her ending note trembling: “Could you… get up from the floor first?”

Zhao Huairen’s phoenix eyes furrowed slightly. “Aren’t you wiping your legs?”

…

How was Huairen so good at seducing people?

Yan Yiqing already regretted her decision. She bit the inside of her cheek and said softly: “You… just help me wipe my back.”

At that, the woman thoughtfully fluttered her lashes.

She seemed to know.

What Qingqing was doing.

And why Qingqing had stopped.

“Alright.” Zhao Huairen agreed softly. Her fingertips brushed her skin inadvertently, stirring a chill before quietly withdrawing. But just as Yan Yiqing relaxed her breathing—her waist was suddenly gripped.

“Mm~” The little cat bit her lip hard, but a low moan still escaped.

It sounded nice.

Like wind brushing petals.

“Sorry.” The displeasure sparked by her dissolved because of her. Zhao Huairen’s clear brows and eyes held only hidden, satisfied pleasure now. Supporting her waist, her voice was like melted ice water, crystalline: “I’ve been squatting too long. A bit unsteady on my feet alone.”

The unfamiliar sensation threw Yan Yiqing into chaos.

In utter rout, she had no mind to hold Zhao Huairen accountable.

The steam in her eyes thicker than in the room, Yan Yiqing clenched her fingers, her voice soft and hoarse: “It’s… fine.”

“Young Master Yan is so generous.”

The sudden praise stunned the little cat for a moment, but she nodded instinctively, unwilling to miss any chance to advocate for herself: “Yes, my personality is great.”

“Mm?!” Yan Yiqing’s pupils shrank.

Her fingertips lost control for a moment. Zhao Huairen pressed her lips together, looking at the hand on her waist, her voice calm: “Did I scare Young Master Yan? My hand went numb. Sorry.”

Yan Yiqing nodded.

Tension left her unable to care about anything else.

“Turn around.” Her nail edges had dug white marks into her fingertips. Zhao Huairen’s phoenix eyes narrowed slightly, her aura softer than ever as she suddenly said: “Young Master Yan’s body is very beautiful.”

Finally hearing the words she wanted, Yan Yiqing blinked and asked instinctively: “Then… does the Heir Apparent want to touch after seeing it?”

What a foolish wife.

So cute. I like her so much.

“Yes.”

That single word accelerated her heartbeat.

Radiant and dazzling, like the first flower rain in spring.

Feeling the touch on her back, her crow-black lashes trembled involuntarily. Yan Yiqing clenched her fists and thought to herself sneakily:

Huairen wanted to touch after seeing.

Did that mean she felt something for women?

At least… she thought it was beautiful, not strange?

That shred of shame drowned in immense joy. Yan Yiqing no longer fretted over her failed plan, feeling she’d accidentally fathomed Zhao Huairen’s thoughts.

The little cat carefully pressed down her lip corners.

Pursing her lips tight, not daring to reveal a hint of delight.

But she didn’t know that the woman behind her gazed at her with eyes so gentle they nearly melted into water.