Sunlight spilled across the earth.
He raised his gaze towards her.
“I need a hug when I’m upset for it to get better,” she stated earnestly.
He tilted his head peering at her, giving a faint chuckle. “You’re acting rather strange today.”
“No I’m not— ” she began hotly before catching herself.
In a flash he reached to wrap both arms around her slender form.
Her forehead rested against his chest. His chin nestled amidst her hair, faint sandalwood traces from his robes wisping past her nose.
Yet another featherlight embrace.
Far too gentle.
“…Harder,” she commanded from his arms.
His steadily thudding heartbeats sounded in her ears. Then accelerating — faster, faster.
He hugged fiercely, profoundly. Breaths emerging slightly winded against her ear with each low rasp.
Gradually she felt an intense heat. So incredibly hot. Though his embrace was icy she flushed crimson, burning up in his arms. She — a blazing furnace — slowly thawed away his frozen exterior.
Her fingers twitched faintly.
How she yearned to cling back with all her might.
Yet she didn’t dare, couldn’t let him realize. If he knew how upset she felt for him it would shatter his heart.
So she could only tremble voicelessly in his arms. Head lowered, eyes shut tight.
“You’re…not crying are you?” He asked softly, lowering his head.
“No,” her tone thick with tears.
He sighed. “Even your voice is weepy.”
“I just…I just miss you terribly…” she mumbled into his chest by way of explanation.
I miss you so much.
Despite standing right before me.
“Homesick?” He gently queried. “Don’t cry. They’ll return next year. Princess Ruohang and I were just drafting plans for—”
“Xie Kang,” she called him.
He flinched violently.
For only he addressed himself thus.
“I— ” he faltered, hesitating.
“Comfort me a little,” she requested.
He froze up completely.
“When I cry I need to be soothed before feeling better,” her tearful voice somehow adorable all the same. Stubbornly refusing yet demanding comfort.
Like a wheedling kitten begging for pampering affection.
“Very well…I shall comfort you,” he laughed softly, holding her even closer against him. “Don’t cry.”
“Don’t cry,” he gently repeated, pleasant voice crisp and mellow. One arm secure around her the other tenderly cupping her head, tucking her face into his chest.
She inhaled his robe’s traces, giving quiet little sobs.
Shoulders quaking in his embrace, silent tears drenching his sleeves. His voice sounded repeatedly — patiently soothing her cries of “don’t cry”.
A perfectly hopeless, bumbling attempt at consolation.
“I’m done with my crying spell,” she mumbled, lifting her head from his chest at last.
Tear streaks covered her fair complexion. He reached hesitantly, carefully wiping her face.
His icy fingertips grazed her skin. Shutting both eyes lashes aflutter, lips pursing somewhat. He watched her upraised face, gazing with kind yet mournful eyes awash in grief.
“You really do cry easily,” he remarked after a while, tone amused.
Then he released her as if weary, slowly reclining back against the wall still panting shallowly.
She supported him to the writing desk, placing a small heated brazier beneath his knees and covering them with a thick blanket. Then she draped an overcoat around his shoulders.
“I’m not cold,” he gave a soft laugh.
Her loud scoff. “You’ve completely lost sense of hot or cold.”
He blinked blankly for a spell. “You— ”
“How would I know right, blind man can tell!” She said irritably. “Not even warning me about this condition of yours. And this too — have you lost sense of pain as well?”
She angrily demanded: “I found out while binding your wounds. So much blood yet you yourself had no clue!”
“Well it’s not so bad is it,” he smiled faintly downwards. “No pain feels pretty nice.”
She knocked his head reprimanding: “Did you actually like me scolding you?”
“Probably since you returned heavily injured this time, leaving me anxious about your poor health. Thus the kindly treatment,” she wrapped both arms around knees, face half buried as she explained in low murmurs.
He watched her sidelong. Curled up so, quite adorable in her docility like a meek kitten. Very casually pinned up locks still held that red jade hairpin he gifted her, the lone bright splash of color against inky black tresses.
His fingers twitched on their own, lifting to gently ruffle her hair.
She pretended not to notice. After some moments she yawned heavily from drowsiness and suddenly plopped her head onto his shoulder. Haughtily she declared: “I’m going to nap now. You’ll be my pillow. Not one bit of jostling allowed.”
Then she promptly dozed off in his embrace.
He smiled silently to himself, gazing down at her flushed cheeks. Once she settled into deeper slumber he tidied his sleeves, leaning forward to grab writing brush and inkstone. Wholeheartedly he replied letter after letter atop the desk.
Scritch scratch of paper sounded. Crackle pop of brazier coals. Lengthening the afternoon into eternity.
Much later, the chamber doors gave a long creeeak — a attendant boy knelt to give greeting behind the bamboo divider.
“Your Highness,” Lu Eleven murmured respectfully. “News received.”
“Lower your voice,” softly reproached the room’s occupant without turning. “She’s asleep.”
“That assassin was captured.”
Lu Eleven gave report, cupping both fists: “Carrying chests of silver he tried escaping along waterways, only to be apprehended by patrolling guards of the Feathered Forest Army. He’s currently detained in the War Offices, with both witness testimony and physical evidence intact.”
“Princess Ruohang knows already?”
“News just dispatched to Her Highness the princess,” Lu Eleven confirmed.
“Good. Prepare to go calling on her estate later,” commanded the rooms’s occupant, setting down writing brush after finishing his last sweep.
Behind the screen Lu Eleven made to withdraw when the room’s occupant suddenly said in a low voice: “Eleven, has she noticed anything?”
…Lu Eleven’s steps faltered mid-retreat.
“Did anything happen while I slept these days?” Mused the room’s occupant, as if to himself. “She’s…so uncharacteristically nice out of the blue?”
“Young Hero Jiang likely pities Your Highness, heavy injuries moving her soft heart,” Lu Eleven said evenly.
“A valid point,” the room’s occupant gave a low chuckle. “Her kindheartedness truly runs deep.”
Then another long sigh: “The kinder she treats me…the more sorrow I feel.”
“And I fear after my departure…just how upset she may become.”
“Your Highness…” Lu Eleven also hesitated, floundering for words.
“No matter. No need for a response. Just my exhaustion speaking,” came an easy laugh. “You’re dismissed.”
The chamber doors quietly creaked close. Its occupant paused in reflection for a spell before spreading another sheet of paper. He pressed down a white jade paperweight at one corner.
Another bout of coughing overtook him. Once it subsided he tidied his sleeves, lifting his wrists — brush held aloft — steadily penning a reply to yet another lengthy letter.
As dusk fell, remnants of rosy clouds spilled inside like liquid ripples of light. Filtering through the misty haze falling across the illuminated room in vibrant dazzling radiance.
Its occupant still tirelessly scribing. In his embrace the dozing girl roused faintly to repeated coughs. Peering up she noticed him deeply contemplative, faintly knit brows. One hand holding writing brush dashing off missives, the other gently cradling her close against him.
“Did I wake you?” He glanced down inquiring.
“You didn’t,” she shook her head. “Is dinner ready yet?”
“Should be by now,” he nodded. “Will my lady partake here? I can have it brought in.”
“I’ll go get it. You stay seated,” she yawned hugely, stretching lazily without leaving his arms. “You should eat too. You look worn out.”
“I’m fine,” he replied even as another answering yawn escaped.
She grinned. “I’d love shoving a mirror before you now to showcase your current state.”
“And what might that be?” He yawned lightly again.
“All dazed and muddled looking,” she stood, flicking his forehead reprimandingly. “After the meal you’ve one hour more to work. Then straight to bed. Back to the bedchambers tonight instead of the floor!”
“I’m meeting Ruohang later tonight,” he said tiredly. “Assassin news update with things to discuss.”
She shook her head, leaning close to sternly remind: “No going out after nightfall! We’ll go tomorrow — I’m coming with you.”
“…Very well then. Tomorrow at dawn,” he decided after consideration.
“I’ll wake you,” she nodded affirmation.
He propped up both elbows to carefully pen another letter at his desk. Soon piping hot soup and dishes arrived, placed atop wooden trays. Surprisingly it even included a plate of candied wheat crisps.
“You get one after eating,” she grinned up at him.
“You made these?” His surprised tone.
“Mmhm,” she smirked proudly. “Princess Ruohang taught me. Said you adored them since little.”
“And now you’re even calling him by his courtesy name,” he chuckled once. “Princess Ruohang truly lacks usual princely airs.”
“I copied from you,” she explained casually. “You’re my husband after all.”
Head tilted assessing him she took a quick, testing breath — suddenly calling him: “Dear husband.”
Once more he jolted, badly startled.
“I’d rather you address me formally with full name,” he mumbled softly. “Getting called husband so abruptly sounds rather frightening…like I must have done something wrong…”
“Xie Kang,” she impatiently cut him off. “Eat.”
“As you say. More used to this,” he smiled, appeased.
Warm candle flames danced between chamber walls. Facing each other at the table one drank broth while the other ate dinner.
The girl before eating surface picked up sweet crisps with her chopsticks, carefully feeding her counterpart across. Somewhat nervous she watched him slowly chew and swallow.
“Tastes fine,” he declared solemnly. “But not quite as delicious as my personal handiwork.”
“Oh,” he verbalized, catching himself.
Letting truth slip out by accident it seemed.
Her loud humph. “So those late night wheat crisp snacks were your doing! You just wanted an excuse to gorge didn’t you?”
He gave a quiet little cough, dodging the topic completely.
After dinner he resumed letter writing by the desk. She dragged over another table settling down beside him to review the account books and daily registers. The two sat shoulder-to-shoulder, concentrating wholly on their respective tasks. For a long interim only the coal brazier’s ambient crackles filled the room.
Until deepening night with the wax and wane of stars. His worsening coughs prompted her to silently gather his writing materials. She firmly steered him towards the inner bedchambers, urging him to rest at last.
Far too weary, he shuffled along with half-lidded eyes letting her guide him further inside the shadowy flickering chamber lights.
A gleaming glass lamp hung overhead. Wavering candle flames shone between diaphanous canopy curtains — seeping out shards of faint warmth.
He halted below the lamp, abruptly freezing up…
For that reclining couch by the bed had been removed. Only the lone bed itself remained before him.
“Get into bed,” the girl commanded crisply.
A note from the author:
Little Xie: …?
Table of Contents | Next Chapter
Leave a Reply