Chapter 14: Awkwardly “Seducing” Her.
For an assassin, overly close proximity is an extremely dangerous omen. Guan Xuan had witnessed someone being stabbed through the heart with a dagger the moment they reached out to help another up; he had seen people embrace passionately, only to convulse and collapse, bleeding. Intimacy was a sharp blade for killing—swift and precise, never missing its mark. In the Shadow Pavilion, even “friends” who spent every day together had to maintain a distance of at least ten feet, or there could be no trust.
In his distant memories, the last time he experienced intimacy with another person was when someone took his hand and led him through a large gate. He ate a flatbread, looking up as that person stood outside the threshold, accepted silver, and walked farther and farther away. Later, he was passed around many times. Once, someone asked him if he remembered where his home was, saying they could send him back. He shook his head. The person asked, “Can’t you remember anything at all?” He shook his head again. The person asked in various ways several times, but he only shook his head.
After that, he entered the Shadow Pavilion and did not leave for seven years.
After leaving, he became the Princess’s possession. It didn’t matter whether the Princess treated him as medicine or a toy—but it could also matter. He hadn’t yet grown accustomed to being a toy; he needed tenderness, needed her to hold him. Perhaps from the very beginning, she shouldn’t have been so gentle with him, making him mistakenly believe that such intimate tasks always came with the added reward of tenderness.
Guan Xuan shook his head.
Zhao Rongzhang sneered, “Does it not hurt anymore?”
The Princess had little patience; she was already growing annoyed.
Guan Xuan raised his eyes and looked at the Princess. He had to admit that there were times he deeply disliked her. He disliked her unpredictability—how pleased she was with him when happy, and how much she made him suffer when displeased. Yet he also had to admit that, given the Princess’s status, bending down to ask him such a question was an honor for him. She had already been very good to him.
Their relationship was, after all, unique. From the very first time, his body had become something shared with her. She needed to control this body, ensuring every reaction pleased and satisfied her; while he needed to control this body, managing every movement and change, serving her until she was happy. Although she never considered him a person, he had tried—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t completely extinguish his human instincts. He would feel pain, shame, and longing. Since he couldn’t extinguish them, he might as well tell her. Only by knowing could she better control him and be satisfied with him.
He touched his chest, meaning “me,” then lowered his lashes and crossed his arms around his shoulders.
“You want me to hold you?”
The Princess understood immediately. Guan Xuan was too ashamed to meet her gaze and nodded, his fingers tightening even more. After a moment’s thought, he touched his throat and gestured, “You can scold me too.”
Zhao Rongzhang understood what he meant—he liked the way she had treated him before, holding him and speaking to him, even if with humiliating words. Zhao Rongzhang lowered her eyes to admire the little cat holding himself like this, watching his jade-white fingers gripping his shoulders. She realized he truly was fragile, a uniquely fragile kind. Needing to be held, needing to be comforted—he really was just a little cat.
But she still wanted to know the answer to that question: “Did I hurt you?”
Guan Xuan looked into her eyes again, his gaze lingering for a moment. He began to feel deeply ashamed of his earlier ill feelings. There had actually been moments when he disliked the Princess. The Princess was truly good, very gentle—she was someone who cared whether he was in pain. He had overlooked it; she must have been extremely uncomfortable due to the heat toxin and disgusted by some terrible person, which was why she had been so fierce with him. He shouldn’t have focused only on his own feelings.
He answered her seriously, “It only hurts a little.”
Then he clutched his chest, “But when my heart aches, it hurts a lot.”
Zhao Rongzhang stopped smiling and stared at him. Had she made him sad? He could still feel sadness, after all.
Upon careful thought, it seemed reasonable. Especially that time she punished him by making him lie down all night and then stepped on him until he cried. Wasn’t the reason she felt pity for him precisely because he had looked genuinely miserable at the time?
When he cried out in pain to her, he wanted her to comfort him. Zhao Rongzhang reached out to touch his face.
Little Cat instinctively tried to dodge but obediently held back. He raised his eyes and looked at her earnestly. Zhao Rongzhang felt much more at ease. Yes, this was how it should be. She wasn’t some pervert who took pleasure in tormenting others; she just wanted to see him lose control because of her. Like taming a cat—it wasn’t about tying it down and torturing it, but about making it willingly raise its tail and leap into her arms.
In a better mood, Zhao Rongzhang’s eyes sparkled with a light, playful smile. She bit the flesh of her thumb, and the question suddenly returned to the beginning: “Do you like my scent?”
She deliberately teased him, her fingers brushing the corner of his lips, mischievously scratching with her nails. The boy’s lips were full and soft, beautifully curved, leaving red marks with every pinch. Guan Xuan recalled those moments of near suffocation, especially when even his nose bridge was pressed down. It was hard to describe the feeling, so he simply narrated it truthfully: “When I taste it, I want to keep tasting it.”
“You like it, yet you want me to hold you and comfort you. Don’t you think you’re asking for too much?”
The boy’s expression froze, and he lowered his eyes. Zhao Rongzhang gently traced circles on his cheek with the back of her finger, casually saying, “Seduce me. If you want something, seduce me into giving it to you. If you serve me well, how could I bear not to cherish you?”
Tired from talking but feeling satisfied, Zhao Rongzhang rolled over on the couch and took an afternoon nap.
Not long after falling asleep, she dreamed of her mother. Her mother sat before the dressing table, applying layer after layer of bright red lip rouge. Her mother was very impatient—the redder her lips became, the deeper her frown grew, with rouge flakes scattered all over the floor. She looked up and asked, “If Mother doesn’t like wearing makeup, why apply so much?” Her mother only stared at her reflection in the mirror, grinning as she said, “Your father likes it.”
In the dream, she was still young, shaking her head like a rattle-drum. “I asked Father! He said he likes Mother no matter how she looks. If Mother enjoys wearing makeup, then it’s up to her.”
Her mother suddenly turned her head, staring straight at her. The perspective in the dream shifted abruptly, and Zhao Rongzhang almost felt as if she were the mirror itself. Her mother indeed seemed to be staring at her own reflection. Her bright red lips parted and closed, as if chewing on her own flesh: “Do you believe that? Xiao Yingrong, do you really believe it? Haha, I wouldn’t dare take that risk. I’ll wear rouge until the day I die, to show him a face painted with rouge.”
The woman stood up and approached her step by step. The madness in her mother made her afraid, even though her mother had never harmed her. She retreated step by step, but her mother still managed to touch her head. Her mother leaned down, caressing her face, her lips stretched into an extreme smile, yet her eyes looked as if they were about to cry. Her mother’s voice was like a sigh: “Xiao Yingrong was born in one form and will die in that same form. Do not touch these false colors, do not rely on the favor of others to live. You are the Princess, the only Princess of Great Zhou. You must become the most noble person.”
The weather was too hot, and she had sweated through her sleep. Zhao Rongzhang awoke from her dream to see Ming Luo standing by her bed, fanning her. The hall was quiet, and for a moment, Zhao Rongzhang felt as if Ming Luo had grown several years younger, as if everything had returned to her childhood—when she slept on the same bed as her mother, waking to find her mother already seated before the dressing table, with Ming Luo still standing opposite, fanning the air.
Zhao Rongzhang rubbed her eyes and sat up. Ming Luo helped her change her clothes: “This summer is likely to be exceptionally hot. It’s not even May yet, and two large blocks of ice in the hall are already insufficient.”
Zhao Rongzhang remained silent, her gaze shifting to the dressing table. The table was sparsely adorned with cosmetics, and of course, that terrifying yet intimate woman was not there. Ming Luo wiped the sweat from her neck, shoulders, waist, and abdomen, saying, “The Grand Empress Dowager has issued an edict, asking the Princess to visit Renshou Palace often to see her younger royal brother. As for the Herb Gathering Department, she has already ordered it to be reorganized, ensuring that the Princess’s Snow Essence Pills are never interrupted.”
Zhao Rongzhang smiled helplessly: “The Grand Empress Dowager has been watching the fire from across the river for too long. Now she realizes the flames are hard to control, so she’s anxious.”
“After all, the Grand Empress Dowager cares for you.”
“She cares for too many people.”
She would no longer take the Snow Essence Pills. What did it matter if they were made month after month, year after year, even if they made a hundred or a thousand? She wanted to harm no one, to protect everyone, but how could so many things go as she wished? She and Zhao Jue were natural enemies, and even more so with Zhao Zhu. The peace within the family and the peace of the world that the Grand Empress Dowager desired would never come to pass.
Before the evening meal, Zhao Rongzhang went to Renshou Palace. Seeing Zhao Zhu still crawling all over the floor, she recalled the dream she had at noon. She could never understand why her mother, who had loved her so dearly, would want to share that love with others. Was it because the love her father gave was not enough, making her afraid? Or was it because she herself was not good enough, inferior in her mother’s heart to Zhao Jue, who could rightfully inherit the throne?
She picked up Zhao Zhu, held him in her arms, pinched his cheeks, and tried to teach him to call her “sister.” The child’s face was tender, reddened by her pinching. He whimpered and cried, unable to utter the word.
Returning to Lingxiao Hall, Zhao Rongzhang’s face showed no trace of a smile. She realized it was actually difficult for her to maintain a consistently good mood. As long as she remained trapped in this place, she would never be free, never able to have her wishes fulfilled.
After bathing, she leaned back on the couch, flipping through the Analects while lost in thought, watching Little Cat stand foolishly in front of her, awkwardly trying to “seduce” her.
When she was in a bad mood, it was impossible for her to treat others gently. As for him, since she was in no hurry to detoxify, she could take him or leave him. If he couldn’t please her, he shouldn’t expect to get what he wanted. And as for her, she still needed to vent her frustrations.