Chapter 54: The Most Romantic Thing

Within the pink embroidered canopy, Yin Ruxin lay blissfully atop Yang Yaozong’s chest, her hair cascading over her smooth back, her slender fingers idly tracing patterns across his skin. Her legs, delicate as lotus roots, curled upward, and her jade-like feet swayed gently in the air. From within the bedchamber, the two could be heard singing to each other, their voices entwining in a playful duet.

They had already shared the most intimate of embraces, though in the end, Yang Yaozong restrained himself, not breaking the final barrier between them. Though their chosen way of resolving their desires was perhaps even more daring and shameless, Yin Ruxin’s heart brimmed with greater delight. How could she not be happy, not feel blessed, when her beloved cherished her so deeply?

“Hmm... So these are the three songs you sang at Dawn Temple?” The flush had still not faded from Yin Ruxin’s cheeks. After their passion had ebbed and a brief wash, they lay together in bed, unable to sleep for excitement. She recalled Yang Yaozong’s tales of the three songs he sang at Dawn Temple, and pestered him to sing them for her.

As Yang Yaozong caressed the beauty resting on his chest, he replied, “Yes... Yes, they’re rather strange, aren’t they?”

Yin Ruxin hummed a few bars of one song, then laughed, “The tunes are a bit odd, but the lyrics are straightforward and carefree. I quite like them.” Her eyes brightened as she spoke, and she propped herself up, her tender breasts swaying enticingly with her movement atop Yang Yaozong.

Yang Yaozong rolled over, pinning her beneath him. One hand found her trembling bud, gently kneading the fullness below, while the other rosy tip was already between his lips, savored with delicate attention.

Yin Ruxin’s breath came in soft gasps. She ran her hands through Yang Yaozong’s hair, cradling his head against her bosom, and murmured, “Didn’t you promise to sing a song for me?”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Yang Yaozong gave the swollen bud a firmer nip, making Yin Ruxin arch her neck with a frown of sweet pain. One hand pressed his head closer, the other pounded lightly on his back as she cried out softly, “That hurts!”

Yang Yaozong raised his head, still kneading her softness, and braced himself above her with a wicked smile. “If it hurts, why do you press me closer?”

Seeing her bite her cherry lips in shy frustration, so lovely and demure, he couldn’t resist but capture her mouth again, his kisses deepening, his chest rubbing gently against her tender peaks, his hands exploring with growing boldness.

Unable to restrain a moan, Yin Ruxin’s legs intertwined restlessly, until she felt the renewed heat and firmness of Yang Yaozong against her. Remembering the bold act she’d just performed under his guidance, and the evidence left in her underclothes, she was suddenly overcome with shyness despite her love for him. Hurriedly, she stopped his roaming hands, dodged his demanding kisses, and, breathless and on the verge of tears, pleaded, “You... you promised to sing for me first! You said you would!”

Yang Yaozong, amused by her bashful urgency, caught his breath and laughed, “Alright, alright.” He lay flat on the bed, calming his racing heart, and pulled her into his arms. Softly, he began to sing:

“Sitting back to back on the carpet, listening to music, sharing our dreams; you wish I’d grow ever gentler, I wish you’d hold me ever closer in your heart. You said you wanted to give me a romantic dream, thanked me for leading you to paradise— Even if it takes a lifetime to fulfill, as long as I say it, you’ll remember and never forget. The most romantic thing I can imagine is growing old with you, collecting every smile along the way, saving them for the days when we’ll sit in rocking chairs and reminisce. The most romantic thing I can imagine is growing old with you, until we’re too old to go anywhere else, and you still cherish me as the treasure in your palms.”

Yin Ruxin sat up from his embrace, then draped herself over his chest, gazing up with eyes misted by emotion. “Is this song really for me? Truly for me?”

Yang Yaozong nodded, “For my precious Xiner.”

At last, she could not hold back her tears. Pressing her face to his chest, she asked, “What is this song called?”

A single tear slid from her cheek onto his chest, sinking straight into Yang Yaozong’s heart. He held her tightly and answered, “It’s called ‘The Most Romantic Thing.’ Do you like it?”

Yin Ruxin nodded, murmuring, “I do. ‘The Most Romantic Thing’... sitting back to back on the carpet, listening to music, sharing our dreams...” Her innate musical talent and memory were astonishing; after hearing the song just once, she was already softly singing it herself.

As dawn’s first light crept in, Yang Yaozong quietly rose from bed, only to turn and find Yin Ruxin awake, watching him with a gentle smile.

He sat by her side and bent to kiss her forehead. “Good morning.”

She replied with a smile full of tenderness, “Good morning.”

It was their first night spent together. As they awoke, both felt that delicate sense of respect and intimacy, as if they were a newlywed couple.

Yang Yaozong said softly, “You rest a bit more. I always wake at this hour. I’ll go out and exercise—there’s much to do these days. If I have time, I’ll come see you.”

Yin Ruxin nodded but rose as well, her cheeks flushed as she donned a long dress to cover her bare form. “I made you a set of clothes. Yesterday, I had Ruyi bring them from the little courtyard. Try them on.”

Seeing her bashful expression, Yang Yaozong nodded, “Alright.”

With Yin Ruxin’s attentive help, Yang Yaozong changed into new white trousers and a short tunic, topped with a dark blue robe. She styled his hair and tied it with a matching scholarly headscarf.

Yang Yaozong smiled, “It fits perfectly and feels so comfortable. Did you make all this?”

Yin Ruxin, blushing, nodded, “Yes, as long as you’re comfortable. There’s another set I haven’t finished yet. I like... I like to see you wear the clothes I make with my own hands.” As she gathered the courage to call him “my beloved,” her face and neck turned crimson.

Deeply moved, Yang Yaozong embraced her, his voice gentle, “I love wearing the clothes you make for me. They’re both comfortable and full of your care.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, giving a soft, contented hum.

Leaving Drunken Red Dust, Yang Yaozong found the streets still empty. He made his way directly to the sundry shop. Sitting on a low couch in the back room, he gazed up at the third floor of Drunken Red Dust, at the very room where he and Yin Ruxin had shared their spring night, and his heart swelled with sweetness.

After indulging in his memories for a while, he rose and went next door to organize the intelligence reports left from yesterday, only to find the documents already sorted on the desk. The corners of his mouth lifted in a knowing smile—he guessed it must have been Jing Yijun’s doing. That princess with the air of a fairy was truly fascinating. Cold, proud, and seemingly indifferent, yet so attentive to every detail. After spending so much time together, she could often guess his intentions with just a glance. Yet Yang Yaozong could never quite read her thoughts, which left him both bemused and slightly exasperated.