Chapter 11: Punishing the Cat by Forbidding Movement.
The sound of water grew increasingly loud and slick, pattering incessantly, soaking the carpet with several dark, damp patches. A window was not tightly closed, allowing a sliver of wind to seep in. The Princess shivered from the chill and, to steady herself, had to soften her knees. The cat’s waist, abdomen, and thighs were slick from her play, and she lost control of her strength, her knees sinking into the carpet, plunging her to the depths. The Princess was stretched to the point of losing her voice.
The Princess’s eyes had long grown hazy, unable to focus clearly on the cat’s expression. She leaned down, resting her head on his chest, lazily watching the flickering candlelight. Gradually, her breathing relaxed, and soft, low hums returned to her throat. Her cheek pressed against the large expanse of his chest muscles, which were pale and soft, rising and falling rhythmically like ocean waves. She felt somewhat sleepy.
Though her body was thoroughly satisfied, her mind still lingered on one matter. Zhao Rongzhang shifted to rest her head on the other side of his face, observing the cat’s slightly closed eyes. From this angle, each of his eyelashes curved with exquisite precision, beautiful and even possessing a delicate, lustrous sheen. Yet beneath these two rows of lashes, the two gems embedded there were dark and dull, devoid of any shine. She had not yet released him, still holding him instinctively with a force that was far from gentle. How could he not cry?
Zhao Rongzhang grew increasingly displeased. She pinched his chest, and he blinked once. She recalled how, when she had merely touched him before, his eyes would flutter incessantly, let alone after such intense use today.
Zhao Rongzhang gripped his chin, forcing his face toward her: “Are you dead?”
This was clearly an emotionally charged question, quite unlike her usual demeanor. Moreover, she had never directed such a question devoid of practical meaning toward him. Zhao Rongzhang paid no mind, only staring into the eyes he was forced to raise.
The cat saw a faint trace of anger in the Princess’s gaze—an emotion she rarely displayed. Even when he had failed his first assassination attempt and failed to kill Young Master Xie, she had never shown such an expression. The cat was not dead; he immediately shook his head in response.
Zhao Rongzhang’s displeasure did not dissipate with his timely reply. What she truly sought lay behind this question, so the answer he gave was certainly not what she wanted to hear. She had long known this cat was dull, foolish, and incapable of thought. Indeed, asking such a question was useless.
However, when it came to him, the scope of her questions ended there. She would not press further; she had no desire to understand his affairs. He had displeased her and served her poorly—this was something he needed to reflect on. Zhao Rongzhang twisted his flesh, rose to her feet with an air of superiority, and curled her lips maliciously: “Tonight, you will lie here. Do not move.”
She turned to bathe, her legs so weak she nearly stumbled, yet her imposing demeanor remained undiminished.
As the Princess’s figure disappeared behind the screen, the cat stared blankly in that direction, forgetting even to blink. Amid the sound of water, he looked up at the ceiling, adorned with seventy-two patterns of passionflowers, forty-nine patterns of the Eight Treasures, and twenty-one cloud motifs. Carved among these designs were fish, birds, insects, and plants, while the indistinct section depicted Guanyin and Buddha. He had made a mistake, and the Princess was punishing him.
The carpet was clean, with five prepared here. Each time the Princess finished using it, she would have the palace maids take it out to wash, and use another one next time. He had not yet fully grown accustomed to the softness of these carpets; lying on them made him uneasy, deeply uneasy. The Princess had left him here, and after bathing, she went to sleep.
The color of the ceiling grew increasingly dim. No palace maids came in to refill the oil, and the candles eventually burned out and extinguished. This glass-like world, this cage at the corner of the eaves, was pitch black and silent. Guan Xuan looked in the direction where the Guanyin and Buddha were carved, but he could not see them. Instead, countless cold, pale ghostly faces appeared above, staring down at him indifferently.
It felt as though he had returned to that Shadow Pavilion—towering and majestic on the outside but dark and damp inside, where people died every day, each wearing the face of someone about to die. The last person he killed was many years older than him. As he died, he faced the patch of sky visible through the high window, laughing all the while. Even after his last breath, his eyes remained open, saying, “Look outside.”
Guan Xuan looked up at the square window. Outside, it was gloomy and raining.
The Princess slept until the hour of Chen, slept well, and was in a good mood. She even decided what to have for breakfast. As she sat up, she rang the bell. There was movement outside the door. Zhao Rongzhang rubbed her eyes and got out of bed. After taking two steps, she stepped on the edge of the carpet and suddenly remembered something.
She looked toward the center of the carpet. The red marks had not yet faded, and that delicate, slender body still lay there. She frowned at first, then smiled. The palace maids were about to enter. She walked slowly, stopping in front of him and tilting her head to glance at the cat.
The cat’s half-closed pupils reflected a faint glimmer of light, but his face remained expressionless. A wooden cat. Zhao Rongzhang felt a mischievous impulse. She raised her foot and stepped on him, using force without restraint, as if treating an inanimate object—an excessively harsh method. The cat’s chest heaved, his breathing quickened, and the color of his skin changed. Outside, the palace maids were pushing the door open, already emitting a creaking sound. Only then did Zhao Rongzhang stop them: “Wait a moment before coming in.” As she spoke, she used the sole of her foot to press and grind against him from below, leaving her foot slick.
The Princess leaned forward, smiling brightly, blocking the blurred deities on the ceiling. She said, “Stupid Little Cat.” Guan Xuan looked into her eyes. His body had already been tormented to a flushed state, tears welling up and rolling down as teardrops. He turned his face aside, and the teardrops fell into the carpet, halving his field of vision. He moved his hand, stiff from the night, and placed it clumsily by his lips. Only then did he barely feel a sense of security.
This scene fell into Zhao Rongzhang’s eyes, stirring a peculiar feeling within her. Such a powerful body, yet such a fragile gesture—it gave an intuitive impression of beauty and allure, but it was more than that. This complex feeling made her pause her actions for a moment. But when she became aware of this feeling, she acted even more harshly, stepping on him until his waist and abdomen trembled and his brow furrowed. Yet she stopped again.
He was pitiful. Another feeling was that he was pitiful.
Him, Little Cat—she actually felt pity for him. Zhao Rongzhang found it somewhat unbelievable. She did not have a bad habit of tormenting others, but she suddenly realized: Little Cat was human.
Zhao Rongzhang withdrew her leg and crouched down. She touched Little Cat’s face—it was very soft, cooled by tears. She tilted his chin, making him meet her gaze once more. The cat was still crying, his gem-like eyes reflecting her image. Zhao Rongzhang wanted to teasingly ask if he knew why she was punishing him, but she figured if he knew, he wouldn’t be crying like this. And, strangely, as he cried, she felt dissatisfied inside. Before, seeing him cry had amused her.
Zhao Rongzhang stood up and said indifferently, “Wash up in a moment.”
She had Little Cat cover himself with clothes and hide, then called the palace maids to prepare water. The cat’s tears were hard to stop, still falling as he washed, but thanks to his muteness, they fell quietly and obediently, without a single sob, not at all annoying. Zhao Rongzhang scooped water to wash her feet, watching the cat’s obedient and adorable demeanor, then glanced at the part of him that remained firm, wondering if there were other ingredients in the sterility decoction.
Recalling the first time she had enjoyed him, after he had cried, she stroked his hair and said, “I can’t bear not to cherish you.” In truth, there was no such unbearable feeling—she had only said it casually when she was in a good mood. Right now, she was not in a good mood.
Zhao Rongzhang decided to call Ming Luo alone to attend to her washing and dining, ignoring him. The cat was meticulous; even with only a screen between them, no one would sense his presence. Let him finish tidying up and go somewhere to wallow in pity.
However, before she could ring the bell for Ming Luo, Ming Luo anxiously called out from outside the hall: “Your Highness, Your Highness! The rear hall is on fire!”
Zhao Rongzhang frowned, turned to look out the window, and saw a wisp of gray smoke.
Zhao Rongzhang ran out of the bedchamber just as the fire reached there. The weather was dry, and the flames spread swiftly and fiercely. Even with all the palace servants and guards urgently fighting the fire, they could do little to stop it. Watching the raging flames, Zhao Rongzhang heard steady footsteps approaching amid the chaos. Ren Ping led his men and bowed to her, his tone unhurried: “I am late again.” Just like during the fire at Jinshen Hall last time, he arrived only after most of it had burned.
The Princess’s feet were bare and still slightly damp, now smudged with dirt and ash. She sneered at Ren Ping and sat on a chair brought by a palace maid, who washed her feet. She remarked casually, “Then you should be demoted again.”
Once her feet were clean, the Princess put on fresh shoes and sat on a stone stool in the courtyard. Learning that the kitchen had already prepared the breakfast she wanted, she had it brought over. Watching the gradually doused flames, the Princess began to eat, alternating sips of porridge with bites of milk pastry.
Her Princess’s Mansion was built with five-hundred-year-old Golden Phoebe wood mined from the deep mountains of the south. Golden Phoebe wood gleamed like golden oil, its grain as fine as silk, and its scent could be described as “the pure fragrance of heaven and earth.” When burned, this scent was intensified to its utmost, filling one’s lungs with a rich, lingering aroma of fruitwood and pine.
Zhao Rongzhang noticed that the rear hall and side halls burned much faster than the bedchamber. It was only when the fire reached the bedchamber side that it showed signs of being extinguishable. Yet the pillars and beams of every hall were made of Golden Phoebe wood, whose greatest advantage—aside from its price rivaling gold—was its resistance to burning. It wasn’t hard to guess that someone had tampered with everywhere except the bedchamber.
Her people could strike at the emperor’s bedchamber, guarded by layers of Imperial Guards and the Imperial Guard. Conversely, it was no surprise that her Princess’s Mansion would be burned down. Many sudden incidents had occurred over the past two years, so Zhao Rongzhang felt little surprise. She only sighed a little—back then, her father had endured immense pressure to drain the treasury to build this luxurious Princess’s Mansion for her. Construction had dragged on intermittently from when she was eight until she was thirteen or fourteen, and she had lived there for only two years. However, her father himself was already dead, so the loss of a building hardly warranted much grief from her.
After she finished her morning meal, Ren Ping spoke with apparent deference, “The Princess’s Mansion has been destroyed by fire and will require time for repairs. May the Princess reside in the palace for the time being, to await her wedding in peace.”
Zhao Rongzhang dabbed the corners of her lips with a handkerchief, inwardly sneering. She wondered whether this fire was ordered by Zhao Jue or suggested by Ren Ping. In any case, the aim was to crush her authority, confine her under their watchful eyes, control her more easily, and capture the cat more conveniently.
Most of the arrangements she needed to make had already been completed beforehand, so this would not greatly affect her plans. It was just a pity that playing with Little Cat afterward would become much more troublesome.