003 Awaiting to Serve
She had been kneeling for a full hour, offering the tray in her hands, yet no one came to take it from her. Her body had grown numb from kneeling, until she even forgot she could move at all...
The room, silent for so long, suddenly filled with breathless, coquettish gasps. "My lord, Xiyin cannot endure any longer. You are too much for me, please, let Xiyin go..."
The plea was delicate and pitiful, enough to evoke sympathy in anyone who heard it—let alone that Yun Xiyin was known by all as a gentle, fragile woman, soft as a breeze. She seemed so frail, as if a mere gust could scatter her.
"Yin'er, your body is too weak. I must nurse you back to health, or how will you bear a son for me?" Duan Nanyu’s cold voice was laced with indulgence.
"My lord..." The sweet voice was abruptly cut off, followed by a chorus of low, lingering moans within the chamber...
Kneeling outside, Yun Xueyan could only offer a bitter smile. Truly, she was adept at seeking misery on her own. Of course, at dawn they would be entangled together; she had only come to humiliate herself.
Her arms, holding the tray, had grown stiff and trembling. She drew a deep breath, striving to steady herself.
No matter what, she could not allow those within to look down on her in front of all these people.
Her face was ruined, her dignity lost. Was she not allowed to keep even a shred of self-respect?
She was humble, but not by choice!
Just then, the sound of the door opening reached her ears. A wave of warmth washed over Yun Xueyan, dispelling some of the cold that had seeped into her bones.
She kept her head slightly lowered, her voice calm. "My lord, you are up."
Duan Nanyu said nothing, his gaze merely fixed on the woman kneeling before him, his cold, wolfish eyes narrowing to slits.
Sensing the chill of his stare, Yun Xueyan inhaled deeply, then slowly raised her head to meet his icy gaze.
"My lord, the morning is cold. Please, return to your chamber. Allow this servant to assist you in dressing." By calling herself a servant, Yun Xueyan drew a clear line between herself and Duan Nanyu.
He was the lofty prince; she was merely a maid who came as part of a dowry.
His cold, resolute face darkened in a frown, and after a moment he spoke. "A fine servant you are. It seems calling you 'consort' was too much honor. Since you prefer the role of a maid, I shall grant your wish!"
Irritated for no apparent reason, Duan Nanyu snorted coldly and turned back into the room. He detested her stubbornness—it unsettled him!
What he demanded was submission. He could command legions to yield on the battlefield; how could a single woman defy him?
"Thank you, my lord." Rising slowly to her feet, Yun Xueyan stumbled, nearly spilling the tea from the cup.
Her legs were completely numb, devoid of any sensation—she barely recognized them as her own. Her arms, too, were rigid and sore, and she could only move mechanically, still carrying the tray.
She stepped into the room. The warmth inside was far greater than that of her own Xuan Yue Pavilion...
Upon the bed, Yun Xiyin lay wrapped in a soft quilt, her delicate back tracing elegant lines, ink-black hair spilling down in loose waves, half veiling her form.
"Yin'er, you were exhausted last night; rest well today," the indulgent voice sounded again, but Yun Xueyan paid it no mind.
These matters had nothing to do with her.
"Thank you for your kindness, my lord," came Yun Xiyin's gentle, silken reply.
Yet in Duan Nanyu’s ears, it lacked the pleasing quality of Yun Xueyan’s voice. For some reason, he found Yun Xueyan’s voice the one that soothed him most.
"Come here and help me dress!" He turned to Yun Xueyan, his tone cold.
She fetched his robe and changed him with swift, efficient movements. When she was finished, Duan Nanyu left the room, not sparing Yun Xueyan a single word.
She followed after, somewhat dejected. She had not once seen Yun Xiyin turn her head, and she sighed inwardly. He must truly cherish her—else why allow Yun Xiyin such liberties?
He was a prince who would not tolerate defiance from anyone.