Xiao Yuan, true to his word, restrained himself several times from the urge to force her head down.
He let her continue with her awkward movements, the heat and tingling pleasure mixing with a sense of torment. Xiao Yuan thought to himself that he should blindfold her or perhaps even gouge out her eyes—those eyes that blinked and shed tears, irritating him greatly.
It had been some time, and Pei Qing felt her jaw stiffening, her lips and tongue losing strength. She looked up at Xiao Yuan with a plea in her eyes.
His gaze was dark and intense, and seeing her pitiful expression, he turned his head away. "If you can’t manage it with your mouth, use your hands. Or do I need to teach you that too?"
Pei Qing immediately understood, her pale hands reaching up. Following his earlier instructions, she lightly sucked now and then, each time eliciting a deepened breath from him. The sight of his tensed muscles beneath his skin filled her with dread.
Sweat began to gather in her palms, making them warm rather than cool, and when she tightened her grip slightly, Xiao Yuan couldn’t take it.
"Gentler," he murmured.
Pei Qing quickly loosened her grip, but in doing so, the firm pressure she had been applying also eased. Dissatisfied, Xiao Yuan grasped her hand, guiding her movements, while his other hand instinctively found its way to her head.
Pei Qing tensed immediately, fearful of his next move. However, as the overwhelming pleasure washed over Xiao Yuan, he paid no mind to her anxiety. Just as he reached his peak, he yanked her hand away and thrust forward.
Pei Qing couldn’t make a sound, overwhelmed by the discomfort.
Only then did Xiao Yuan notice the small cracks forming on her lower lip and at the corners of her mouth, tinged with traces of blood.
Pei Qing instinctively wanted to spit, but Xiao Yuan quickly pinched her lips shut, preventing her from doing so.
"Swallow," he ordered, his thumb brushing over her bloodstained lips. "Or else I’ll just have to do it all over again, Empress."
Pei Qing realized with horror that he was ready to go again.
Her face was etched with reluctance, but she forced herself to comply. Xiao Yuan watched in silence as she slowly swallowed, his eyes following the delicate movements of her throat as she did so.
Finally, he released her. With no further resistance from him, Pei Qing hurried behind the screen to clean herself up.
But the night was still long, and Xiao Yuan’s desire had not yet abated. He stared intently at the screen, imagining how she would slowly undress herself, first slipping off that sheer inner robe, then untying the delicate straps of her undergarments. Her waist was so slender—he had felt it earlier, and gripping it tightly must feel... exquisite.
He was never one to play the role of a gentleman, nor a loyal servant to his brother. To him, the moral codes of society were nothing compared to the intoxicating allure of soft, warm flesh. And besides, she was always meant to be his.
She had promised in her letter that she would agree to anything—so why should he hold back?
Pei Qing’s reluctance, he knew, was only because she wanted to preserve face for that sickly emperor, asking him to wait.
Why should he wait? He had left the comfort of Nanchuan to rescue her feeble emperor, putting himself in a position of danger, even facing hostility from a mere child.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He wanted her to cry out in surrender, loud enough for that dying man to hear in his palace.
But as he approached the screen, Xiao Yuan suddenly paused. There was no sound of water, no steam rising. All he could hear were the faint, muffled sobs coming from behind the screen. If he looked closely, he could see a small, hunched figure silhouetted against it.
Even without entering, he knew she was crouched behind the screen, covering her mouth as she wept quietly.
It reminded him of when they first met—a young girl crying in a corner after a quarrel at home, who stumbled upon a gravely injured boy who, despite spitting up blood, was more concerned with her tears, afraid she might cry herself to death.
His fist clenched tightly, then relaxed.
The candlelight in the hall dimmed, casting shadows over his expression.
Pei Qing, unaware that Xiao Yuan had approached and then left, couldn’t understand why she was crying, nor could she cry for too long, fearing he would grow impatient. She quickly cleaned herself up, changed into fresh clothes, and walked out quietly.
She didn’t dare approach him, standing timidly by the screen, glancing at the man lying on her bed. The night wasn’t over yet, and she didn’t know what else he would demand of her.
But after waiting for a long time, he gave no further instructions. Pei Qing assumed he must have fallen asleep. She glanced around the room, her gaze settling on the small bed where Zhi Lan usually slept.
She walked over lightly, looking once more at Xiao Yuan to ensure he wasn’t stirring, then lay down on the small bed, pulling the blanket over herself, feeling much warmer immediately.
Soon, the sound of her steady breathing filled the room. Xiao Yuan opened his eyes, noticing the small figure bundled under the covers, with her round head and long hair peeking out.
Crying one minute, sleeping the next—how irritating.
The next moment, the candles in the hall went out, and the night fell completely silent.
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