Chapter 54

The evening clouds had dispersed entirely, leaving the night profoundly dark, like tiles of dark blue glazed porcelain.

When Song Guiya returned to the Bamboo House, Li Xingruo and Qin Yi had already extinguished their lamps and gone to sleep. Only behind the bamboo curtain on the other side did the faint orange glow of an oil lamp flicker, casting light over a space of exceptional warmth.

Lifting the curtain to step inside, she found Xi Tongyue reclining by the window, gazing out at the thick blackness of the night.

Her lustrous black hair, smooth as satin, tumbled freely down her back, still bearing a trace of dampness from her bath, dried by the mountain breeze. Now and then, a gentle gust would stir it, filling the room with a subtle, cool fragrance reminiscent of tea brewed from spring snow.

The candlelight lent no warmth to her clear, exquisite features. Instead, it only heightened their cold solitude.

Startled perhaps by the sound of footsteps, Xi Tongyue turned her head languidly to regard her, her eyes darker than the night itself.

“You’re back.”

Mindful not to wake the others in the room, her voice was soft. In its weary, indolent timbre lingered an unwitting softness that melted the bones.

Song Guiya’s breath caught, and her hand faltered as she let the curtain fall.

Not for any other reason—simply because her every thought of Xi Tongyue had long since strayed from innocence.

Even a casual word from her seemed to come from lips as red and blooming as crabapples, like a pair of beguiling soul-summoning banners.

The slightest movement, and they could steal away a person’s very soul.

Song Guiya tried to look away, fighting the urge to fixate on those banners, desperate to quell the wild notion burgeoning in her heart.

“Mm. Why haven’t you gone to sleep yet?” Her own voice came out low and hoarse.

The words hung in the air, and they both froze.

Xi Tongyue hadn’t slept because she was waiting for Song Guiya. With only one lamp between their beds, she wouldn’t have simply blown it out and left her in the dark.

It was a brainless question.

Song Guiya felt a wave of mortification crash over her, the faint flicker of desire in her heart instantly drowned in embarrassment.

Sensing something amiss, Xi Tongyue’s beautiful phoenix eyes arched slightly. She stepped closer and reached out one slender, lotus-stem arm, pressing two cool fingertips to Song Guiya’s forehead.

“Du Difeng came looking for me earlier.” Song Guiya flinched back half a step, as if burned. Before Xi Tongyue’s brows could knit, she rushed to change the subject.

“Before the recording started, he’d heard rumors from his assistant about his sister and took them at face value. That’s why he clashed with me on the show. He came specifically to apologize.”

“He also asked me to pass along an invitation: after the show wraps, he’d like us to join him for dinner at the Du Family Old Mansion.”

Xi Tongyue slowly curled her fingers back. “He wants to pry out of me who the mistress was that Song Yu cheated with all those years ago.”

Song Guiya nodded. “I haven’t said yes to dinner yet. If you want to go, I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

“Not going,” Xi Tongyue replied curtly.

The answer Song Guiya had expected. She smiled. “All right.”

Then she added, “I owe you proper thanks for what happened today, too.”

The paparazzo’s surveillance screenshots had painted her as a knowing homewrecker, and the fallout had been massive. A torrent of online condemnation and abuse had even drawn the attention of official media.

Without that follow-up video proving her innocence, she might not have drowned in the Pacific, but the moment she set foot off the island, the public’s vitriol would have done the job.

Let alone trying to make a go of it in the industry afterward.

Song Guiya was new to the entertainment world, but even she could tell the clarification video had been prepared well in advance. The paparazzo’s abrupt about-face screamed outside influence; there was no other way public opinion could flip in a mere ten or fifteen minutes.

The whole maneuver felt eerily familiar—like the dance variety show before it.

Only Xi Tongyue would go to such lengths for her.

Xi Tongyue didn’t deny it. “And how will you thank me?”

Her voice was pleasing on its own merits, all the more seductive in its low register. Now her deep eyes fixed on Song Guiya through a haze of languid allure, her thin red lips curved faintly. As they parted and met, they evoked an elegance untouched by the mundane.

A sudden numbness shot through Song Guiya’s body. Her mind blanked, leaving her like some fool whose essence had been devoured by a mountain sprite—heart and eyes brimming only with Xi Tongyue’s soul-summoning banners.

After a long silence with no reply, Xi Tongyue watched her stand there in a daze, dark lashes fluttering now and then like crow feathers. She couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle.

In front of outsiders, Xi Tongyue almost never laughed. When she did, it always carried a distant, unattainable chill.

But now, her smile was clear and transcendent, free from mortal dust, captivating all beings with its radiant charm.

Song Guiya suddenly snapped back to her senses. Her voice had turned exceptionally hoarse from her parched throat. “What does Teacher Xi want?”

Xi Tongyue leaned her alluring, delicate face close to Song Guiya’s, seducing her with an intoxicatingly bewitching tone.

“Song Guiya, kiss me.”

In that instant, Song Guiya felt her heart pounding like a drum.

Just a finger’s breadth apart, every sensation was amplified beyond measure. Xi Tongyue’s shallow breaths brushed her nose tip, carrying her unique fragrance. That tiny red mole seemed to come alive, like a crimson thread winding endlessly toward her. All her suppressed delusions ignited like fireworks in a flash.

Sovereign and subject, worldly ethics and conventions—they all burned to ashes.

Under some inexplicable impulse, her throat bobbed slightly as she ached to kiss her right then and there.

The moment she closed her eyes and drew nearer to that tempting allure, a rustling sound came from outside the window—the sharp patter of raindrops striking the eaves. A bolt of lightning followed, turning the warm orange glow inside stark white.

Thunder crashed right after the flash.

The deafening roar exploded across the sky. Song Guiya jolted awake. She opened her eyes to find Xi Tongyue’s dark, profound gaze brimming with unguarded affection and longing, and she lost herself in it once more.

The room’s lingering warmth was pierced by the biting cold wind, chilling her to the core. The candle by the window flickered wildly before extinguishing.

In the dimness, she could faintly see Xi Tongyue lower her eyes. When she lifted them again, her noble features had resumed their usual lazy poise. Aside from a barely perceptible chill in her gaze, no other emotions remained.

The atmosphere was shattered by the abrupt weather shift—perhaps the moment simply hadn’t arrived.

Xi Tongyue said nothing and turned to climb into bed for sleep. Suddenly, a fair, silky hand cupped her cheek, and scorching lips claimed hers.

The frost in her eyes melted away in an instant.

Song Guiya had always found Xi Tongyue’s lips delicately tempting, but now she discovered just how incredibly soft and tender they truly were.

A decadent numbness tingled from the nape of her neck, slithering down her spine to pool at a single point.

It was a transcendent sensation that spanned lifetimes, as if her long-pent-up, hidden yearnings had finally burst free, every desire met with tangible fulfillment.

She traced the shape of those lips with gentle precision—fierce yet tender. Despite her lack of experience, it was unexpectedly heart-shaking.

Finally, Xi Tongyue could no longer endure the exquisite torment of her kisses. Her hands gripped Song Guiya’s waist and pressed her down onto the bamboo bed.

“Mm…”

Seizing the moment Song Guiya’s lips parted, the tentative kisses deepened into a fervent, searing blaze that pried past her teeth.

The steady drizzle outside masked the tangled murmurs between their lips and tongues perfectly.

When they parted, their breaths were still ragged and intertwined, lips slightly swollen. Even in the dark, the glistening sheen on them was unmistakable. Her already loose beast-skin skirt hung in disarray, and their body heat showed no sign of fading in the chill—in fact, it seemed to rise even higher.

Had conditions allowed, they might have gone much further.

The two lay facing each other on the bamboo bed, silent.

After a long moment, Xi Tongyue reached out with two slender, translucent fingers and teased Song Guiya’s predictably burning ear tip. Her clear, seductive voice carried a teasing lilt. “Your performance makes me suspect you’ve been coveting me for ages.”

Song Guiya pursed her lips, at a loss for denial.

She thought it wasn’t long, yet it was.

Long enough to trace back to her youthful days entering the palace, when she’d first glimpsed a corner of Xi Tongyue’s garment fluttering down in the bamboo grove. Yet not so long—only recently had she dared confront these emotions buried for years.

She simply hadn’t expected Xi Tongyue to harbor the same feelings for her.

Not the bond of shared youth, nor the duty of ruler and subject.

But when had she fallen for her?

In her past life? Or this one?

When Song Guiya looked at Xi Tongyue again, she saw her eyes tightly shut, long lashes quivering faintly, breaths steadying into the rhythm of sleep—she had already drifted off.

That night, Song Guiya dreamed.

A dream of utter taboo, of endless, intertwined passion.

…

The next morning, Song Guiya awoke to rain still falling outside the window.

The beast-skin blanket beside her retained a trace of warmth—Xi Tongyue must have risen just moments ago to freshen up.

Recalling the indescribable scenes from the night before, Song Guiya quietly changed out of her damp, clinging undergarments, sticky from the weather.

At that exact moment, Xi Tongyue returned, Qin Yi and Li Xingruo trailing behind her.

Song Guiya hastily shoved her discarded clothes and trousers under the basket, lifted the bamboo curtain, and stepped out.

Li Xingruo spotted her coming out and called a greeting. “Yaya, you’re awake? It’s rare to see you getting up later than the rest of us.”

Song Guiya glanced at Xi Tongyue, who was sitting leisurely on a bamboo chair, sipping water. A flicker of unease flashed through her eyes, but she kept a calm and composed expression on her face. “It rained suddenly last night, so I slept in a little. Have you all already had breakfast?”

“Not yet. The people from the Kaka Tacha Tribe still haven’t shown up today.” As she spoke, Li Xingruo’s bright smile took on a hint of grievance. “The cameramen said it’s because of the rain—the sea’s too choppy for boats or helicopters to operate. So neither the tribespeople nor the supplies can make it to the island.”

Song Guiya looked puzzled. “Don’t the tribal warriors and Chief Jie live on the island?”

The tribe’s supplies were shipped in from outside too?

“That’s right. The night we cleared the challenge and got back, everyone from the Kaka Tacha Tribe finished their tasks and left the island. Except for those few warriors specially assigned to deliver supplies to us on a regular schedule, the others are probably at home right now, watching us struggle to survive on the show.”

So that was how it was.

No wonder the tribe had things like beef and lamb.

But given the current weather, supplies and laborers probably wouldn’t be able to reach the island anytime soon.

They would have to fend for themselves.

After freshening up, Song Guiya said hello to Xi Tongyue, propped a large leaf over her head, and headed next door to Chi Huo and Du Difeng’s bamboo house to discuss how to get through the rest of their days.

The moment she stepped inside, she saw the already cramped bamboo house packed full of people—clearly the cameramen, for whom pitching tents outside in the thunderstorm would have been pointless.

“Master, what brings you here?” Chi Huo flashed a grin and squeezed his way out of the crowd to her side. “If you need anything, just give me a shout—I’m at your beck and call. No need to brave the rain yourself.”

Du Difeng pushed forward too, brimming with enthusiasm. “Is Teacher Song here for me?”

Song Guiya scanned the room, taking in the sea of familiar faces. The only one missing was Xiao Liu, who’d been shadowing her with the camera this whole time. In his place was a complete stranger she’d never seen before.

“Who are you?”