Chapter 12.

Xue Shu had just reached the door when a voice called out behind him: "Wait. Come back."

Blood surged through his veins, heat roaring to life as he whipped around. His dark eyes locked onto the figure behind him, erasing everything else from his vision.

“Your Highness…”

His voice came low and rough, tinged with disbelief and strained by the rush of blood. He stood there, tense like a predator poised to strike, his gaze sharp and dangerously intent. A raw, unspoken hunger radiated from him—one anyone but a drunken Yin Chengyu would have instantly recognized.

But Yin Chengyu wasn’t sober.

Reclining against the bedpost, his outer robe disheveled from earlier struggles, he exuded a careless allure. The crimson inner garment crumpled at his chest, its loosened neckline exposing pale, jade-like skin. As he murmured, his throat bobbed faintly, the motion a flash of vitality against his alabaster complexion—a vision of red plum blossoms blooming in winter snow. It ignited something fierce in Xue Shu, a flame that burned its way into his eyes.

Step by step, Xue Shu closed the distance, his head bowed. His posture remained outwardly respectful, back straight and shoulders squared, yet the storm brewing in his lowered gaze betrayed him.

“Your Highness…” he called again, this time tinged with an anxious anticipation he scarcely understood himself.

A soft hum escaped Yin Chengyu. Raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, he slowly lifted his face. “My head aches. Help me to bed before you leave,” he ordered. His tone carried the cold detachment of his usual authority, yet his husky voice lent it a subtle, irresistible charm.

Sitting upright, he extended his arms slightly, tilting his chin with a regal confidence that even intoxication couldn’t diminish. His unfocused, hazy gaze held no reflection of Xue Shu, yet his posture remained flawless, steeped in an untouchable nobility.

Xue Shu, however, was anything but calm. His eyes bore into him, ablaze with a barely contained turbulence. The urge to shatter this distant perfection surged within him—a dark, destructive desire tethered only by sheer willpower. Logic reined him in, even as that primal hunger clawed violently at its restraints.

Leaning down, his tension visible in the veins at his temples, Xue Shu struggled to form words. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he forced out, “I… shall assist Your Highness to rest.”

He moved deftly, his hands steady despite the chaos within. Removing Yin Chengyu’s outer garments, loosening his hair, and pulling off his shoes and socks, he left him clad in a pristine white underlayer. By the time he finished, Yin Chengyu was already half-asleep, murmuring a faint instruction: “Massage my head.”

He reclined fully, eyes shut, his stillness almost reverent. Even in slumber, his form adhered to perfection, as though carved from the purest jade by a master’s hand. Untouchable, sacred. Yet beneath that serene beauty lay an irresistible temptation—a fragile piece of art that begged to be destroyed.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Xue Shu extended a trembling hand, brushing aside the soft cascade of hair. His fingers lingered for a moment, tightening instinctively around the silken strands before releasing them. Carefully, he began to press his fingertips against Yin Chengyu’s temples, his motions slow and deliberate.

No one could have guessed the tempest raging within him—the dark, unspoken thoughts that dared to trespass into forbidden territory.

When Zheng Duobao arrived with a bowl of sobering soup, he found Yin Chengyu sound asleep and Xue Shu leaning over him, attentively massaging his temples.

For a fleeting moment, the dim light carved shadows across Xue Shu’s face, dividing it into stark halves. One half seemed almost demonic, a phantom of fury and desire lurking in the dark. Zheng Duobao blinked, and the illusion vanished as Xue Shu turned his head, lowering his voice to say, “The prince has fallen asleep.”

Zheng Duobao pressed a hand to his chest, shaking off the strange feeling. “I must be getting old,” he thought, brushing it aside.

Stepping forward lightly, he whispered, “Chief Xue, you’ve had a long day accompanying His Highness. You should rest. Leave this to me.”

Xue Shu’s gaze snapped to him, sharp and unyielding. As Zheng Duobao approached, he reached for the bed’s canopy and let it fall, veiling Yin Chengyu within.

“His Highness complained of a headache earlier. It took some effort to get him to sleep. Best not disturb him now.”

Zheng Duobao agreed immediately. He left only one lamp burning, carried the hangover soup, and stepped out with Xue Shu.

Returning to his room, Xue Shu sat by the window and pulled out a handkerchief from his chest pocket. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply.

The handkerchief had been washed, its stains long gone, but a faint trace of winter plum lingered—an identical scent to Yin Chengyu's.

His coarse fingertips brushed over the fabric, inch by inch. Silent, unmoving, he sat by the window, allowing the cold dew to soak his clothes.

It was unclear how long he remained there, still as a statue, before he finally stirred. Stretching his stiff limbs, he moved to lie on the bed, tucking the handkerchief under his pillow. Even in his dreams, the soft, lingering fragrance of winter plum stayed with him.

Perhaps it’s true—what you think about during the day slips into your dreams at night.

That night, Xue Shu dreamed of Yin Chengyu.

The lofty crown prince, cloaked only in a bright yellow inner robe, his collar open wide, was held tightly in Xue Shu's arms.

Xue Shu, dressed meticulously in crimson court attire, pressed against him. Scarlet and gold intertwined as he leaned in, taking everything he desired.

Yin Chengyu’s eyes fluttered shut, damp lashes trembling. His pale, slender fingers clung tightly to Xue Shu’s sleeve, veins etched across the back of his hand.

Xue Shu covered those trembling fingers with his own, gently prying them open before interlocking their hands.

...

A rush of exhilaration swelled in his chest, filling him entirely. Even after waking, that intoxicating blend of control and exhilaration lingered in his body.

They say dreams are fleeting, fading upon waking. But Xue Shu remembered every detail.

He closed his eyes and could clearly recall the subtle quiver of Yin Chengyu's lashes.

The feeling of possessing, of utterly claiming someone so untouchable, consumed him. It thrilled him to the core—especially since that person was a deity he should never have defiled.

Xue Shu exhaled slowly, his breath shaky.

But the maddening voice in his heart refused to be silenced. After a long pause, he hesitated, reaching for the handkerchief under his pillow.

With it in hand, he made his way to the bathhouse.

*

When Yin Chengyu woke, it was already late in the morning.

Sitting up with a groggy mind, he rubbed his temples and lazily called for Zheng Duobao to bring him water.

Zheng Duobao dutifully served him a cup of warm water and followed it with a bowl of hangover soup. Afterward, he wrung out a damp cloth and wiped Yin Chengyu’s face.

“Your Highness, feeling better now? If your head still hurts, shall I summon Eunuch Xue to give you a massage? He’s got quite the skillful hands,” Zheng Duobao chattered as he helped him freshen up.

Yin Chengyu’s expression froze.

He might have been fine, but Zheng Duobao had to mention Xue Shu, dragging his thoughts back to last night.

He wasn’t a lightweight by any means, and he hadn’t blacked out from drinking. It was the emotions stirred by the alcohol, combined with facing that achingly familiar face, that blurred the lines between his past and present lives.

A rare loss of composure.

Yin Chengyu lowered his gaze, his tone flat. “Where’s Xue Shu?”

“He’s on duty outside,” Zheng Duobao replied cheerfully, now holding Xue Shu in high regard. At first, he hadn’t understood why the prince had taken in such a young eunuch. But now, it was clear—despite his youth, Xue Shu was far more capable than most.

More importantly, his loyalty to the prince was unshakable.

After all, Xue Shu wasn’t just any eunuch. As a supervising officer in the Imperial Horse Office, he held significant sway. That office controlled two elite military camps, boasting a total of 20,000 soldiers, making its officials some of the most powerful in the empire.

And yet, despite his position and favor from the Emperor, Xue Shu remained utterly devoted to the crown prince. Every task related to Yin Chengyu, no matter how trivial, was handled personally. Zheng Duobao, for all his experience, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of inadequacy in comparison.

Thinking this, he couldn’t resist adding, “He was here first thing this morning, ensuring the guard rotations went smoothly. The manor is so secure now that not even a fly could sneak in. Commander Zhao even joked yesterday that Xue Shu is practically doing everyone’s job.”

Yin Chengyu let out a faint chuckle. “Tell Zhao Lin not to worry. If Xue Shu enjoys the work, let him have it.”

Once he was dressed and groomed, Yin Chengyu headed to the hall for lunch.

As he entered, he crossed paths with Xue Shu.

Dressed in a deep red sunflower-patterned robe and a black belt that highlighted his lean, athletic frame, Xue Shu stood tall and sharp, like a perfectly forged blade. His hair was tied back neatly, crownless yet striking, every inch the image of precision and restraint.

Yin Chengyu glanced at him briefly, ignoring the unwavering intensity in Xue Shu’s gaze, and turned into the hall without a word.

After lunch, Wang Youliang arrived with his usual flattery, inviting Yin Chengyu for a leisurely tour of the city. He made no mention of the pressing affairs at the Salt Commission.

Since Wang Youliang wouldn’t bring it up, Yin Chengyu saw no need to either. Smiling faintly, he agreed. “It’s my first time in Tianjin, after all. I should take the chance to learn about the local customs. Let’s go.”

Overjoyed, Wang Youliang led the way, his smile so broad his face seemed to ripple.

Internally, however, his thoughts ran smugly. The Crown Prince’s reputation for brilliance must be exaggerated. From what he could see, Yin Chengyu was just another young noble indulging in food and entertainment.

As long as he kept the prince happy and sent him on his way, Wang Youliang could go back to playing the local tyrant. With enough bribes, his next post would be even more prestigious.

Each harboring their own plans, the two set off in sedan chairs toward the bustling streets.

When the crown prince’s sedan chair finally stopped, Yin Chengyu seemed genuinely interested in sightseeing, pausing at every new and curious thing. Wang Youliang, eager to please, bought everything the prince glanced at and had it sent back to the manor.

By the afternoon, they wandered into a lively teahouse.

Wang Youliang moved to clear the venue for the prince’s comfort, but Yin Chengyu waved him off. “Why spoil the fun? Laughter is better shared.”

He had no choice but to let it go, taking a seat below him and calling for the waiter to bring their best tea and snacks.

Yin Chengyu focused intently on the storyteller's performance. The tale—a predictable romance of a scholar and a beauty finding their happily-ever-after—felt cliched to him. Yet, the audience below seemed enthralled, cheering and applauding at every twist.

Yin Chengyu quickly lost interest, sipping his tea leisurely instead.

With his thoughts wandering, he began to notice details he'd previously overlooked. Casting a glance to his right, he caught Xue Shu staring at him.

Those dark, brooding eyes—who knew what thoughts swirled behind them?

Yin Chengyu nearly laughed out of sheer exasperation. Xue Shu's audacity seemed to grow by the day.

His expression darkened as he furrowed his brows. He waved the waiter over. “Bring me the sweetest desserts you have—one of each.”

The waiter, recognizing an important customer, didn’t dare delay. Soon, four plates of desserts were laid out: imported treats like date cakes and cloud cakes, alongside local specialties like braided pastries and Tianjin Eight Delicacies.

Yin Chengyu picked up a piece of date cake and took a bite. The texture was coarse, the flavor overly sweet—clearly the work of a mediocre shop. Even he, with his love for sweets, found it hard to enjoy.

A satisfied smile spread across his face.

Setting the bitten date cake back on the plate, he gestured toward the desserts and said to Xue Shu, “I don’t care for these. You can have them.”

Xue Shu's brow twitched, his gaze lingering on the piece Yin Chengyu had bitten into.

After a brief pause, he reached out, picked up that very piece, and bit down where Yin Chengyu had left his mark. In a low voice, he said, “Thank you for your generosity, Your Highness.”

Yin Chengyu’s smile froze. This wasn’t the reaction he wanted. His face darkened further when he noticed Xue Shu’s deliberate choice. However, with others present, he couldn’t lash out. Instead, he forced a mocking smile and said, “If you like them so much, finish them all. I despise wasting food.”

Xue Shu lowered his gaze, murmuring his thanks again.

Meanwhile, Wan Youliang, eyes gleaming with shrewdness, watched the interaction unfold. His gaze flitted between the two, sharp as a blade.

Inwardly, he smirked. The Crown Prince clearly had no fondness for this eunuch Xue Shu, sent by the Emperor. Yet, the eunuch seemed capable of enduring quite a lot.

Wan Youliang chuckled to himself. Wasn’t this the perfect opening for him?

———Author’s Note: The Dog: Brave dog, face the challenge head-on!