Chapter Ninety-Six: Nightfall in a Dreamlike Blur

After seeing the crown prince off, Noble Consort Jing prepared a cup of tea for Yang Yaozong and lifted it to his lips. “You’ve worked yourself hard again today. Rest a while. I’ll sit here with you.”

Yang Yaozong looked at her, shy and flustered in an almost coquettish way, and took her hand with a gentle smile. “Let’s sleep together. You haven’t rested properly for many days either. Besides, now that we’re husband and wife, there’s nothing improper about sharing a bed. Don’t let your mind run wild. Even if I wanted to do anything to you right now, I’d have no strength for it.”

Jing Yi blushed down to the roots of her ears and said in embarrassment, “You’re the one letting your mind run wild!”

To Yang Yaozong, she looked like an immortal who had descended to the mortal world after being stirred by springtime longing, tender and timid, yet fearless all the same. The sight only made him want to tease her more. “Then, fairy, will you sleep on the inside or the outside?”

Seeing the sly amusement in his eyes, Jing Yi understood his words were meant to tease her, yet had no way to deal with him. Flushed with embarrassment, she said, “I-I’ll sleep on the outside, so I can take care of you more easily.”

Yang Yaozong nodded at once and shifted inward. “I’ve already warmed the bedding. Come in. Alas, right now I can only warm the bed for you.”

Jing Yi shot him an exasperated look. “You always look so proper in the daytime. Who would have thought you could be so glib?”

They had long been in an ambiguous relationship, and now they were husband and wife. Yang Yaozong was already unsettled by the sight of her, like a falling fairy roused by spring desire, and his heart itched with restlessness. Now that Jing Yi had cast him a look that was half shy, half annoyed, and spoken to him in that sweetly petulant tone, her alluring lips before him, he found himself wanting to taste them even though his body still had not fully responded. He had been lying there for quite some time, and with the true qi she had earlier transferred into him, he had already recovered much of his strength. Suddenly he reached out, grabbed Jing Yi by the hand as she stood beside the bed, and pulled her down with him. Then he rolled over to pin her upper body beneath his and kissed her delicate lips lightly before lifting his head with a wicked smile. “Whether I’m glib or not, you’ll only know once you’ve tasted it.”

Startled, Jing Yi was dragged onto the bed and pressed beneath him, then ambushed by his kiss. Her heart pounded wildly. She wanted to push him away, but his injuries gave her pause. Seeing his mischievous smile, she no longer had the mind to think about what he meant. Fighting back her embarrassment, she said anxiously, “Your injuries aren’t healed yet, you can’t, you can’t—”

Yang Yaozong chuckled wickedly. “Can’t what? I just want to let you know how glib I really am.” With that, he kissed her deeply.

Jing Yi had barely parted her lovely mouth to speak before her lips were sealed by his. Her eyes widened in nervousness as she felt his tongue enter her mouth and toy with her wantonly. She gave a soft sound through her nose and pushed at him a few times, but he kept kissing her with domineering persistence. At last she gave up resisting, slowly closed her eyes, and let him take from the sweetness in her mouth as he pleased.

After a long while, Yang Yaozong lifted his head and looked down at Jing Yi, whose eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed red, seeming already lost in the depths of his kiss. He smiled. “Do you like this glibness of mine?”

Jing Yi opened her beautiful eyes, bright with a pool of spring water, and after calming her breath, which had grown a little uneven, she lightly punched his shoulder with a small pink fist and said coyly, “Hurry up and get off me!”

Yang Yaozong laughed and rolled over to the inner side. Seeing Jing Yi blush as she sat up to straighten her long dress, he said, “What are you tidying for? Surely you don’t mean to sleep in your clothes?”

While kissing Jing Yi, his body had also grown stirred, though still within the bounds of endurance. Yet he truly lacked both the strength and the desire to force himself into the most intimate act with her. It would not do for her first time to be brought about by a girl’s initiative. Thinking back to the day he had been poisoned by an aphrodisiac and how boldly Yin Ruyun had acted to save him, he felt deeply guilty toward her. He was also worried that if he shared a bed with Jing Yi and so much as brushed against her, he might not be able to endure his own impulses. So he smiled at her and said, “If you’re worried about my condition and afraid I’ll get carried away, then until I’m better, let’s sleep under separate quilts.”

Jing Yi had been fretting over how they were to sleep. Since he was already her husband and had asked her to get into bed with him, she could not simply refuse. And his sudden action just now had also made her uneasy; with his present condition, if he truly intended to do husband-and-wife matters with her, what would she do then? Now that he himself proposed sleeping separately, she finally relaxed. She fetched another quilt, blew out the lamp, and, rustling softly, took off her dress by the bedside before climbing beneath the covers. The bedding was still warm. Remembering his earlier words about warming the bed for her, she suddenly felt the temperature around her rise, her skin tingling faintly with heat.

Yang Yaozong wrapped himself in his quilt and moved a little closer to her. “Let me tell you a story to lull you to sleep.”

Touched by his gentleness, perhaps because the room was dimly lit, Jing Yi was no longer shy. She extended her fair arm, her jade hand softly brushing his cheek. “Aren’t you tired? If you are, then rest earlier.”

In the dim light, the luster of her crystal skin seemed to take on a silvery haze, making her even more transcendent and lovely. The two were close enough to breathe the same air. Looking into her tender eyes, Yang Yaozong said softly, “It’s the story of the divine eagle and the gallant couple I told you about before. I’ve long wanted to tell it to you, but there was never a chance.”

Jing Yi remembered that he had once mentioned this story to her, something about Yang Guo and Little Dragon Maiden. She had even suspected, for a time, that he was using the tale to tease her. She had never imagined that he would truly tell her this story of the divine eagle and the gallant couple. She had already heard the tale of the Heavenly Dragon Eight at the Inn Between Man and Heaven. Recently, the inn had been telling the story of the Legend of the Condor Heroes. She had also read the manuscript Yang Yaozong had written for that tale and liked it very much. She was even looking forward to the next story he would have the inn perform. So this must be the next one he intended to offer there, she thought. A little pleased with herself, she could hear it first. She gave a soft hum. “Then tell me just a little bit. If I get sleepy or tired, I’ll sleep.”

At the same time, in the Prince Xian’s residence, the prince copied the poem Yang Yaozong had given him onto Xuan paper, rewriting it until he was satisfied. Only then did he instruct someone to have it framed the next day and hung in his study. After giving the order, he left the study and headed straight for what should have been his own chamber.

Standing before the bedchamber he had not entered for twenty-five years, seeing the lamp still burning within, the prince hesitated for a long time. At last he made up his mind and raised his hand to knock several times.

The figure cast on the window seemed to hesitate for a moment, then set down what it was doing, threw on a garment, and walked to the door.

When the door opened, the woman standing inside was plainly startled by the prince’s arrival. Then she curtsied anxiously and said, “Your Highness, why have you come? Is there something you need from this lowly wife?”

For the first time, the prince examined her carefully. She was slender, with a delicate nose, almond eyes, and a cherry mouth. Time had made her figure a little fuller than in her youth, faint lines had gathered at the corners of her eyes, and strands of silver could now be seen among her black hair. He remembered marrying her when he was twenty-five; she had been only sixteen then. Now he was fifty, and she was already in her forties.

Thinking of Yang Yaozong’s words, and of the woman’s tireless devotion to him through all her days, he was filled with remorse. One stubborn attachment had ruined this woman’s entire life, burying the best years of her youth beneath his indifference and coldness.

He could no longer remember what she had looked like when she was young, because in his memory he seemed never to have looked at her properly. And yet now he truly wanted to know. Gazing at her closely, he thought she must have been a little more innocent then, a gentle, refined beauty from a modest household.

Seeing him staring, the woman grew flustered and afraid. She did not know what mistake she had made today, though even in ordinary times, whatever she did, the prince would never pay attention to it. Still, she lowered her head like an untried maiden, her hands clutching tightly at the hem of the short outer garment draped over her.

Seeing how nervous she was, the prince knew she feared him, and his heart grew sore with pity. In a gentle voice he said, “Do I need a reason to come to my own bedchamber?” Then he stepped inside.

The woman was briefly stunned when he entered, then hurriedly and nervously shut the door. Turning back, she quickly went to the prince, who had already taken a seat in a chair, and poured him a cup of tea.

After taking a sip, the prince looked at the woman standing respectfully before him. “Why are you still not resting at such a late hour?”

Not daring to raise her head, the woman answered softly, “This lowly wife is making you an autumn robe. It will be finished very soon, so I thought I would complete it tonight.”

The prince frowned. “Why leave such things to the seamstresses? Why tire yourself out over this? It’s not as though I lack clothes.”

Embarrassed, she replied, “Your Highness dislikes having outsiders too close to your body. The seamstress cannot take your measurements properly, nor dare she study you carefully. Though I have not measured you either, I am with you every day and know your build somewhat. So... so it has always been I who sews your garments.”

Only then did the prince realize that all the clothes he had worn all these years had been made by the woman before him with her own hands. He was deeply moved, and yet at the same time his hatred for his own selfishness, indifference, and heartlessness only deepened.

He rose and took her into his arms, his voice trembling. “All these years, I have wronged you.”

Helplessly enclosed in his embrace, the woman stared wide-eyed in alarm. Hearing his words, her tense body slowly relaxed. Her trembling hands came to rest around his waist, and tears filled her eyes as warmth spread through her heart.

At last the moon, though slightly diminished, emerged from the thin clouds like gossamer. As it wandered onward, it scattered its gentle light over the mortal world. The night was blurred and dreamlike, intoxicating to the soul.