Chapter 96.

The heat of his body pressed close, warm breath tinged with the faint bite of alcohol brushed the back of his neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Xue Shu hadn't touched a drop of wine, yet he felt the same intoxicating haze.

Drunk. The rigid rules he clung to unraveled, loosening like a coiled spring.

Grasping the hand resting on his shoulder, he spun sharply, reversing their positions. His voice dropped, rough and stormy, a challenge laced within. "Where does Your Highness want to start?"

Yin Chengyu doesn't waste time with words. Instead, his eyes, sharp as daggers, lock onto Xue Shu, holding him captive for a breathless moment. Then, with a swift, decisive move, he grabs Xue Shu by the nape of his neck and hauls him down. Their mouths slam together, a brutal, hungry meeting of lips crashing together.

Forget the carefully crafted facade, the composed crown prince. Under the influence of pure, unadulterated lust, Yin Chengyu’s control shatters. His kiss isn't gentle; it's a raw, demanding assault, a primal claim. It’s a kiss that screams, "You're mine." This isn’t the restrained man hiding behind a mask of propriety; this is something primal, something dangerous, something utterly irresistible.

Xue Shu, who’s been holding back for way too long, is instantly consumed by the fire. He's been aching for this, yearning for this raw connection, and now it's here, unleashed. He doesn’t hesitate; he retaliates with an even more ferocious intensity, meeting Yin Chengyu’s aggression with his own burning desire. It’s a battle of wills, a dance of dominance and submission played out with lips and tongues.

The force of their kiss sends Yin Chengyu crashing back against the polished mahogany bed frame. His neck arches back in a graceful, almost painful curve, like a swan taking flight. The deep crimson of his inner robe clings to his body, highlighting the lean, sharp lines of his physique. His chest rises and falls with shallow, rapid breaths, his carefully constructed composure completely unraveling. He’s exposed, vulnerable, and utterly breathtaking. He's a masterpiece of raw desire, and Xue Shu is about to devour him. This isn’t just a kiss; it’s a declaration of war, a promise of pleasure, and a descent into pure, unbridled passion.

"Where, Your Highness?" Xue Shu’s voice was low, rasping as he leaned in again, their foreheads brushing, repeating the question.

Yin Chengyu panted softly, his fingers ghosting over Xue Shu’s lips, a deliberate tease.

......

Outside, the wind howled, carrying the biting chill of snow, drowning out the subtle sounds within the room.

The flickering candlelight threw shadows of their entwined figures against the walls, intimate and electric.

Time blurred until Xue Shu finally pulled back, his dark eyes heavy with stormy desire as he looked up at the prince. "The bed?"

Yin Chengyu’s lashes lowered, gaze unreadable, before he tugged Xue Shu to his feet.

Rising, Xue Shu encircled him again, leaning in for another kiss. But Yin Chengyu planted a firm hand against his shoulder, holding him back.

With the flush still staining his cheekbones and his upturned eyes glinting like a predator’s, Yin Chengyu’s voice was calm, almost too calm. “Would Commissioner Xue care to share his little secret with me?”

Just as the tension hit its peak, the hunter shifted his aim.

The sharp glint of an arrow loomed between them, its tip poised to pierce Xue Shu’s guard.

Their gazes locked, a tug of war filled with heat, suspicion, and a clash of wills.

Finally, Xue Shu’s lips curved into a measured, almost mocking smile. “Your Highness, I have no secrets from you.”

“Is that so?” Yin Chengyu’s laugh was cold, derisive. His fingers dug into Xue Shu’s shoulder as he pushed him back, his tone biting. “It seems to me your secrets are countless.”

He adjusted his disheveled attire with deliberate care, casting one final glance back. “I’ve told you before—I despise secrets from those by my side. Since Commissioner Xue seems forgetful, take your time to remember. Then come find me when you’re ready to talk.”

With that, he brushed past, his shoulder grazing Xue Shu’s as he headed toward the bath.

When Yin Chengyu returned, the signs of their earlier encounter were wiped clean. The mahogany frame was spotless, the bed meticulously tidied—but Xue Shu was nowhere to be found.

His gaze landed on the window latch, undone, and he sneered coldly, stepping over to lock it.

The gesture wasn’t enough to quell his frustration. After glaring at the luohan couch for a long moment, he summoned a servant. “Take this couch out.”

It was gone within moments, leaving behind an empty space. Yin Chengyu stared at it, a flicker of dissatisfaction in his expression, before turning in for the night.

Xue Shu lingered outside, the icy wind and snow cooling the fire coursing through his veins but doing nothing to calm the storm in his chest.

Yin Chengyu’s relentless pursuit left him cornered, his defenses crumbling under the pressure. Every step back only exposed him further, bringing him closer to the edge.

If that final fragile barrier shattered, those buried, festering truths would rise to the surface, dragging them both into chaos.

He shut his eyes, unwilling to envision such a scene. Yet the more he feared it, the closer he found himself drawn to it.

The shadows cloaked him as he approached the window. His fingers pressed against the frame, testing it, only to find it latched.

Ah. Angry, then.

Xue Shu’s lips thinned, his expression darkening. Pulling a thin dagger from his sleeve, he slid it into the crevice with practiced ease, the latch clicking open under his deft hand.

Sliding through the window, Xue Shu shook off the biting cold and snow clinging to his body. His first instinct, as always, was to head toward the familiar Luohan couch. But instead of its usual place, he found nothing but empty space—gone, moved elsewhere.

Seems like His Highness is angrier than Xue Shu had anticipated.

Steeling himself, he approached the canopy bed. The sharp edge in his gaze softened as he took in the figure lying there, his expression shifting to a mix of resignation and fond exasperation. For a moment, he sat silently at the edge of the bed, letting the tension linger before kicking off his boots and climbing up.

He didn’t hesitate long. Peeling off his outer layers, he slipped under the thick bedding. His arms instinctively sought the person beside him, pulling them into his embrace. His hand ventured further, sliding to entwine with theirs—only to be stopped, abruptly and forcefully.

Soft, delicate fingers suddenly pressed hard against his wrist. Xue Shu froze, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes darted to the one in his arms.

The once-closed phoenix eyes were now wide open, staring at him with an icy, unreadable intensity that sent a chill down his spine.

"And what exactly does the Grand Commissioner think he's doing?" The words, spoken in a voice like cold steel, cut through the silence.

Xue Shu met his gaze for a tense moment before licking his lips, his tone low and unrepentant. "It's freezing. I thought I'd warm the bed for Your Highness."

Yin Chengyu snorted, his derision unmistakable. Yet he didn’t push Xue Shu away. Instead, he let his grip on Xue Shu’s wrist loosen. His slender fingers slid lower, catching on the red cord at Xue Shu’s neck, tugging out the jade ring hidden beneath his robes. He toyed with it between his fingers, a slow, deliberate smirk playing on his lips, his voice rich with menace. "You can stay... but only if you take your punishment like a good boy."

Xue Shu’s brow twitched. There was no mistaking the trap in those words. Sure enough, Yin Chengyu continued, his voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous: "You’ve pissed me off. Naturally, there’s a price to pay."

"What punishment?" Xue Shu’s voice rasped, his throat suddenly dry.

That pale, elegant hand pressed the cool jade ring against Xue Shu's lips, the faintest smile curling Yin Chengyu’s mouth. "For starters? Bite down. Since I don’t have a gag handy, this will do."

With a flick of his wrist, the red cord fell into Xue Shu’s grip. His teeth obediently clamped onto the jade, tension thrumming through him as Yin Chengyu watched with predatory satisfaction. "Good. Keep biting it. And don’t make me angry again. Understood?"

Yin Chengyu gave a sharp tug on the cord, testing Xue Shu’s compliance. Pleased by the resistance, he finally relaxed, tucking the blankets tighter around them. With a languid yawn, he nestled into Xue Shu’s chest, his body warm and pliant despite the frosty edge to his earlier words. Content, he closed his eyes and drifted off, leaving Xue Shu to simmer in silence, jade still firmly in his teeth.

*

As soon as the Little New Year passed, the countdown to New Year's Eve began.

With the crackle of firecrackers, the year fled; warm spring winds ushered the fragrant tusu wine.

———TN: [ ] 小年 (Xiǎo Nián): This is "Little New Year," a folk festival that falls on the 23rd or 24th day of the 12th lunar month, depending on the region in China. It's considered a prelude to the Spring Festival (Chinese New Year). [ ] "春风送暖入屠苏 (chūn fēng sòng nuǎn rù tú sū)" is a line from the famous Chinese poem "元日 (Yuán Rì)" by Wang Anshi, which describes the scene of Chinese New Year's Day. A direct, literal translation wouldn't fully capture its cultural and poetic nuances. ———

After the grand feast on New Year's Eve, the old year was swept away, and the fresh breath of a new year rolled in.

But this winter was unforgiving. Heavy, relentless snow had been falling for what felt like an eternity, blanketing everything in icy desolation. Even during the festive season, the biting cold seeped into every corner. By the third day of the new year, Emperor Longfeng was already planning a retreat to the hot springs palace in the outskirts of the capital, intending to rest there until the Lantern Festival.

Yet plans unraveled before they could be set in motion. A report from Jiang Zhengfei, the provincial governor of Huguang, arrived urgently: a catastrophic snowstorm had ravaged the region.

The memorial spelled disaster. Since the twelfth lunar month, Huguang had been battered by ceaseless snowstorms lasting nearly a month. Doors were sealed shut by snowdrifts reaching five feet high; lakes and rivers were frozen solid. Thousands of homes collapsed under the weight of the snow. Countless elderly and children were left shivering in rags, starving and dying in numbers too vast to count.

The devastation reached across Changsha Prefecture, Yuezhou Prefecture, Changde Prefecture, Chenzhou, and multiple counties and towns—tens of thousands of lives thrown into chaos by the merciless snow.

Crown Prince Yin Chengyu had anticipated the potential for disaster and had sent orders to northern officials before the year's end to prepare for snowstorm contingencies. But even he hadn't foreseen that the snow would stretch this far south, plunging Huguang into ruin.

Upon receiving the dire news, Emperor Longfeng had no choice but to abandon his leisurely retreat and summon his ministers to Wuying Hall to strategize a disaster relief plan.

The most immediate task was to dispatch officials from the Ministry of Revenue to assess the damage on the ground.

But this wasn't a crisis that mere bureaucrats could handle. The scale was too massive, the people too desperate. Prime Minister Shao Tian proposed boldly, “Why not send the Third Prince to Huguang to oversee relief efforts? It would showcase imperial benevolence.”

“The Third Prince’s leg injury hasn’t fully healed,” Emperor Longfeng countered. “The situation in Huguang is urgent, and the journey is arduous. He’s unfit for it.”

“Your Majesty plans to leave for the hot springs, and the Crown Prince must remain in the capital to maintain order,” Shao Tian hesitated before suggesting, “Perhaps the First Prince could go instead?”

At the mention of Yin Ciguang, Emperor Longfeng’s brows furrowed instinctively.

He hadn’t forgotten the words of the Daoist master Ziyuan—his health still required Yin Ciguang’s care for another month. Sending Yin Ciguang to Huguang now could spell disaster if his condition relapsed.

“No,” Emperor Longfeng decided firmly. “The First Prince lacks experience. It’s out of the question.”

Despite his reservations about granting the Crown Prince more accolades, Emperor Longfeng saw no other viable candidate. Only the Crown Prince, Yin Chengyu, possessed the wisdom and skill to handle this crisis.

Looking at the composed figure of Yin Chengyu standing to the side, Emperor Longfeng commanded, “The Crown Prince has ample experience. You’ll go to Huguang and take charge of the relief efforts.”

Yin Chengyu raised his gaze briefly, meeting Shao Tian’s, before bowing and accepting the decree.

The situation in Huguang was dire. Yin Chengyu ordered his belongings packed immediately, prepared to leave at first light.

His entourage would include officials from the Ministry of Revenue and a detachment of 500 soldiers from the Twelfth Battalion under General He Shan’s command to ensure security.

Xue Shu, restricted by his role, could not accompany him. On the day of departure, he was sent to see Yin Chengyu off on behalf of the Emperor.

“Take care of the capital. If anything urgent arises, seek help from Grandfather at the Yu Residence,” Yin Chengyu instructed briskly, not lingering longer than necessary. With a final word, he mounted his horse and rode off.

Xue Shu stood by the city gates, watching the horses kick up clouds of snow as they disappeared into the horizon. His expression tightened in thought before he turned back to the palace.

Meanwhile, Yin Chengyu’s party pressed forward, day and night, cutting through the icy winds. It took 18 grueling days before they finally arrived at Wuchang Prefecture, the seat of Huguang’s provincial government.

The sight that greeted them was bleak. Though Wuchang itself had avoided the worst of the disaster, waist-deep snow dominated the landscape. In some places, the drifts rose high enough to bury a grown man’s thigh. Villages along the way were suffocated under the unrelenting snow, their people barricaded indoors, struggling to survive.

Jiang Zheng had received word of their arrival and greeted Yin Chengyu outside the city gates, accompanied by a contingent of local officials.

Yin Chengyu dismounted, brushing off the biting cold, and was promptly escorted to the provincial offices.

The city was lifeless. Snow-blocked roads made transport nearly impossible. Markets were shuttered; the air was thick with despair.

Once inside, Yin Chengyu stripped off his frost-laden cloak and wasted no time. His sharp gaze landed on Jiang Zheng. “What’s the current situation?”

Jiang Zheng, a gaunt but shrewd man in his fifties, hesitated for a moment before speaking. Originally from Guangdong, he had served diligently as Huguang’s governor for two years, but this snowstorm had pushed him to his limits. A man unfamiliar with northern winters, he had done his best, but the results were far from ideal.

“Your Highness,” he began nervously, “the latest reports show five prefectures and nineteen counties affected. Over 4,321 houses have collapsed, and more than 23,000 people are in need. The provincial granary is completely depleted, and I’ve already requested disaster relief grain from neighboring regions. But with the roads blocked by snow, nothing can be transported. We can only wait.”

Jiang Zheng sighed deeply. “The snow just won’t stop. The roads are impassable, the rivers frozen. Grain, salt, and cloth prices are soaring. The poorest among us can only endure the cold and hunger. Those who can’t...” His voice trailed off bitterly.

Even the number of dead remained uncertain; entire villages were sealed off, their inhabitants unreachable.

Yin Chengyu’s face darkened. Though he had anticipated disaster, the scale of the devastation still struck a heavy blow.

Without pausing to shake off the cold or rest his travel-worn body, he stood, brushed the frost from his cloak, and shrugged it back on. “We waste no time. You, the provincial governor, and Prefect Yu will accompany me to survey the worst-hit areas. We’ll confirm the extent of the damage and the number of victims. Only then can we figure out how to get relief grain to those who need it most.”

Determined, he strode out into the snow, the weight of the crisis heavy on his shoulders.

———Author's Note: Big Dog: Today, I’m nothing but a dog left out in the cold, forgotten, and unloved.

"All alone, just me, feeling this damn emptiness. Nobody gives a damn about me. I’m just here, on my own."