Chapter 39: A Stolen Kiss

She still kept the jade Guanyin he had given her, cherishing it like a precious treasure. She owned hardly any ornaments; aside from the jade Guanyin, only the two bangles on her wrist could be considered of any value. Yet the jade pendant was his gift, and one of the bangles had come from his mother. Clearly, her days in the Han household had not been easy. He’d even heard that the Han matron often made things difficult for her, and the eldest master Han Yi would harass her whenever he found the chance. The main wife had come to regard her as an enemy, once even pushing her into the water in an attempt to take her life.

What kind of life was that for anyone?

Xue Ao’s heart was a mixture of bitterness and sweetness. He must seize the right moment to bring her home as his wife, never letting her suffer again.

Liu Chuyan gazed at the broken cord with great sorrow. The jade Guanyin had accompanied her for ten years and had never left her side until today, when its cord finally snapped. Seeing it now, she knew it could no longer be used; all she could do was wrap it in a handkerchief and tuck it safely at her waist. After tidying her clothes, she lay on the bed, lost in thought.

Brother Jun Cheng, where are you now? Ten years have passed, even the cord has broken. Between us, all communication has ceased. Perhaps heaven itself is telling her it’s time to let go of that longing. Very well, then—let it be forgotten.

Suddenly, her eyes welled up with tears; a single droplet slid from the corner of her eye and soaked into the pillow, leaving a faint mark across her face.

Through the thick curtains, Xue Ao could not see her, only faintly hearing the sound of muffled sobs. In that moment, he seemed to return to that night when she thought he was dying of illness, and wept loudly, shaking his hand and cradling his face, begging him not to die. Now, even when she was grief-stricken, she dared only to bury her face in her bedding and weep silently.

It was his fault—he should not have left her alone.

He had not known the little girl of those years would suffer so much misery. Nor had he imagined her once-happy family would be scattered to the winds, that her nearly perfect parents would turn against each other, and both would die in turn.

He ought to tell her, to let her know he was by her side. Even if she hated him, she deserved the truth. The frail, chubby boy she once knew had grown into the man he was now—not so charming as to win every heart, but at least no longer frightening enough to make children cry, and occasionally some young lady who did not know his story would cast him an admiring glance.

Unable to restrain himself, Xue Ao slipped down the steps and approached her bed. Perhaps it was the medicine, or from weeping, but she had already fallen into a deep sleep.

"Chuyan," he murmured, sitting gently at her bedside, gazing at her delicate, sleeping face. With the warmth of his fingertip, he wiped away the trace of tears from her cheek. Even in slumber, her brows were knitted, peace eluding her. He bent down and left a gentle kiss between her brows.

She seemed to sense something; her brow eased, rosy lips parted slightly.

Startled, Xue Ao leapt up, retreating three steps, glancing about in panic, finding nowhere to hide. Looking back at her, he saw she had only stirred a little, not waking at all. Yet the quilt had slipped, half on the floor and half barely covering her delicate form. He turned his head away instinctively, but the glimpse of disheveled clothing and the faint curve of her body, rising and falling gently with her breath, stirred his imagination.

He exhaled softly, stepped forward, and tried to pull the quilt up, but one corner was tightly clutched in her hand. Unable to smooth it over her, he could only tuck it along the edge of the bed. Fearing it would slip again, he dared not leave, nor could he simply stand there holding it, so he stayed to guard it. Never mind, he thought—he would just sit and watch her for a while longer, so she would not catch a chill.

Gazing at her lovely face, Xue Ao noted that though red marks covered her brow and chin, they did nothing to mar her beauty. Even with her eyes closed, he remembered them well—how they sparkled like stars when she smiled, how her laughter shone like a display of fireworks, bursting forth in a radiant spectrum. Her delicate nose was more prominent than in childhood, and from weeping still glistened with a rosy hue. Her lips were petal-soft and pink, as lovely and inviting as peach blossoms in spring.

Inviting...

Without thinking, he reached behind her ear to steady her head, then bent down, pressing his warm lips to hers. Like cotton, like barley sugar—one taste was not enough.

She seemed to sense it, her lips parting with a soft murmur.

Xue Ao could not restrain himself, emboldened by the sound—more invitation than invitation, more temptation than temptation itself. He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue, savoring their soft fragrance, the unique scent of a young maiden mingling with the faint aroma of medicine, purer than lotus and magnolia in summer, intoxicating and impossible to resist.

Bolder now, he pressed his lips to hers, his tongue gently outlining her mouth.

Her cheeks flushed a deeper red, making her even more beguiling. He lingered at the edge for a long moment, unable to find a way in.

Perhaps stifled by his breath, Liu Chuyan parted her lips just a little, and Xue Ao, half by accident, slipped inside. Their tongues met and entwined, each instinctively responding to the other.

Afraid of waking her—if she discovered he had taken advantage while she slept, he could never forgive himself, and with her temperament she might truly die rather than forgive him—Xue Ao tried to withdraw, but he couldn’t bear to let go.

As he hesitated, Liu Chuyan suddenly reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him tightly against her so that not a sliver of space remained between them. His other hand came to rest on her chest, feeling the soft warmth beneath his palm, a temptation almost impossible to resist.

Was she seducing him?

Yet she was clearly still asleep—could she be having a passionate dream?

And was it about him?

Xue Ao didn’t know, but his body was more honest and impatient than his mind. His tongue, guided only by instinct, moved in and out, entwining and tasting, their flavors mingling until they became one. Liu Chuyan seemed to accept him completely, offering none of the resistance she would while awake—indeed, she responded to his deepening kiss with soft, contented sighs, appearing thoroughly delighted.

Yet just as Xue Ao’s passion rose, Liu Chuyan abruptly released his lips and let her arms fall away, turning over to face the other side.

He stared at her alluring back in silence, her fair skin gleaming, feeling both frustrated and dejected at what he could not have.

The sensation of that first taste was exquisite. Even as he tapped his head in annoyance, he could not banish the vivid fantasies from his mind.

What was he to do?

Desire stirred within him, insatiable and ravenous, craving more and more. Especially with her smooth back and rounded shoulders mere inches away; all he had to do was lean forward a little to kiss her.

Thinking thus, he found himself already acting, brushing her shoulder with a gentle kiss, then nipping and tasting, lingering for a while.

Suddenly, Liu Chuyan shifted again, rolling over to face him.

Xue Ao, confronted with her face, was at a loss. He knew he was not a gentleman—he’d always known it. Yet he had no wish to profane her so. But truly, he could not help himself. He had never realized just how enchanting the girl he longed for could be, nor how much he desired her, nor how addictive this could become.

His breathing grew heavier, more rapid than before. Liu Chuyan seemed to sense something, her eyes opening to a narrow slit.

Startled, Xue Ao quickly pressed a sleep acupoint, and her body slackened, her head drooping onto the pillow as she fell into a deep and undisturbed sleep.

Now, she would not wake so easily, and Xue Ao’s heart was finally at ease.

There is a saying: “The bold die from overeating, the timid from starvation.”

Ah, it seemed a most fitting description of his predicament.

Was he to starve, or to overindulge?

Xue Ao pondered for a moment, then climbed onto her bed, gathering her soft, fragrant body into his arms.

Yes, he would do nothing more—just hold her and sleep.

Her body was even softer than he remembered from their childhood.

The mattress was plush and comfortable, far better than his own narrow cot—the difference between heaven and earth.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing her close, nestling her head against his chest and gently guiding her hands to encircle his waist, as if she were holding him, too.

Such sweetness, such happiness—it was as if light itself was blossoming before his eyes.

Meanwhile, as Xue Ao did his utmost to create this blissful scene, Liu Chuyan’s cheeks grew so red they seemed about to bleed. With his every movement, she even let out a soft moan, her expression both sweet and bashful.

Could she truly be having a passionate dream?

Xue Ao could not know what Liu Chuyan dreamed of, but he had guessed correctly.

At this moment, Liu Chuyan felt as though she floated among the clouds. The man before her was shrouded in mist: she could neither see him clearly nor touch him, yet she could feel his love so vividly. Such lingering tenderness, she had never before experienced.

His kisses—gentle—landed on her brow, her lips, her nose, her ear. His lips, soft as feathers, brushed her heart. His tongue, sweet and fragrant, tangled with hers. His touch was as delicate as the wind, his hands holding her as if she were fragile glass. In his palms, she was cherished and adored.

After their deep kiss, he gazed at her for a long time. In his eyes, there was a hint of anxiety, but far more an unfathomable depth of love.

She wanted to see him clearly, but could never quite make out his features—often, she could not even open her eyes. When finally she managed, an annoying face would appear before her.

But in the next instant, he would pull her back to him. She knew it was a dream—so beautiful it made her blush, so enchanting she dared not face it, nor did she wish to wake.

He drew her gently into his arms, his embrace warm and safe. She lay against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. Everything felt so real and wonderful, even if she could not see his face. As long as it was not that detestable Xue Ao, she would gladly remain lost in the dream forever.

Yet something at her waist pressed uncomfortably into her, rousing her from her reverie.

Groggily, she opened her eyes. Why was Xue Ao before her? Looking around, she saw she was in her own bed—why on earth was that annoying man here?

In a flash, darkness fell before her eyes.

Liu Chuyan slowly lifted the quilt from her face, sat up, and rubbed her aching neck. She looked around—the room was empty. She glanced down, seeing her clothes were merely rumpled, nothing amiss.

Had she imagined it all?

Author’s note: (⊙o⊙) Ah! Little Ao is becoming more and more shameless!