Chapter 18: Smelling His Scent.

Zhao Rongzhang propped herself up and took the soft whip from Little Mute’s hand. She casually kneaded his chest muscles while examining the whip again. She wondered when he had made this. Specifically for this purpose? Was he looking forward to being struck by her with this thing?

How interesting. Previously, when she had used him a bit roughly, he would even get a little sulky.

Communicating with a mute was too troublesome; she couldn’t be bothered to ask. She truly had no habit of cruelty and no interest in hitting people. But there was no harm in trying.

With little strength in her body, Zhao Rongzhang moved her hand away, pressed against his arm, and with her other hand holding the soft whip, she rested her wrist against his ribs and then moved it. As her wrist moved, the whip fell against his chest with a small, crisp sound. Surprisingly, the whip was quite resilient, but after striking his skin, it did not immediately spring back.

Zhao Rongzhang clearly felt his trembling and swelling in that moment—it seemed somewhat useful. She only wanted to be able to receive his release to alleviate the heat toxin. Since it could achieve the purpose, if it was useful, she would use it. She raised her wrist to continue, but the whip still did not spring back, as if stuck to his chest. Zhao Rongzhang frowned. Little Mute had skin like ice and jade, with little sweat; his body wouldn’t be this sticky. As her thoughts drifted, her hand had already lifted the whip completely. Unexpectedly, the next moment she saw a wound of bloody pink flesh appear beneath where the whip had been.

She immediately looked at Little Mute’s face. There was no particular expression on his face. His brows were relaxed, his eyes moist and only looking at her, with no reaction to pain whatsoever. She looked back at the soft whip, flicked it twice, and only then discovered that when fully extended, small blades would protrude from both inner edges of the whip. These blades were clearly very sharp, not even clinging to a single drop of blood.

As she was looking, her forearm was lightly touched—it was his finger. He was reminding her to continue.

Zhao Rongzhang stared into his eyes. A very strange cat. Very strange, indescribably strange.

The Princess did not continue. The cat and the Princess stared at each other, and gradually, from the Princess’s deep gaze, he realized something was wrong. He timidly covered the wound, thinking perhaps the whip mark looked unsightly. But then it occurred to him: maybe the Princess was worried the wound would cause trouble—like blood seeping out and staining her clothes, leaving a bloody smell, and later wasting medicinal powder to dress it. He didn’t dare look at the Princess anymore.

After shifting his gaze aside, the hand lightly covering his chest was touched. Guan Xuan’s eyelashes fluttered as he felt that hand being moved away. The Princess was going to be angry; it would be good if the Princess got angry. If she scolded him harshly, he would be afraid, he would be sad, and his shameless body could then produce the correct reaction. He was already somewhat afraid, his heart beating violently, the veins there also swelling.

The Princess must be looking at the wound. Guan Xuan was afraid for a while before hearing the Princess’s icy voice: “Why aren’t you crying?”

Guan Xuan’s gaze paused, then slowly turned back. So the Princess liked to see him cry; she was dissatisfied because she hadn’t seen him cry. Relieved, he met the Princess’s gaze again with shyness and simply gestured: “I’m not sad.”

If he wasn’t sad, why would he want to cry? If he didn’t want to cry, he couldn’t cry. He wrote another character for “harsh” on his own chest and abdomen: “Scold me harshly.” Meaning just hitting wasn’t enough; it would be best to say some harsh words, then he would be sad.

Zhao Rongzhang stared into Little Mute’s eyes with a complicated expression. He had completely misunderstood her question. It was simple: why didn’t he cry from such obvious pain?

Didn’t he think his threshold for tears was strange?

Zhao Rongzhang asked again, “Doesn’t it hurt?”

Guan Xuan instead looked at her with a puzzled expression.

Guan Xuan didn’t understand why the Princess was asking this and repeated his gesture: “I’m not sad.”

The Princess frowned, as if annoyed, and fixed her gaze on his chest. “When you’re injured…” The words didn’t fully leave her lips before she pressed them shut. Guan Xuan was still confused when the Princess tossed aside the soft whip and climbed off him. She stood up and left, her tone indifferent: “Go wash yourself.”

The situation had completely deviated from what Guan Xuan had expected. He suspected he had misunderstood something, but the Princess had already draped her robe and reclined on the couch, about to ring the bell to summon someone. Guan Xuan gathered his clothes and stood up, wanting to ask what was wrong, but the Princess wouldn’t look at him.

A few days after the rain, the weather grew increasingly hot. Guan Xuan, weary from using his lightness skill, walked through a wild field overgrown with weeds, stepping on his own shadow. A wild bird flew from one tree to another, and Guan Xuan glanced at it. At the foot of the mountain, nestled among lush green trees, was a modest waterfall. Guan Xuan stood beneath it, sat down, and propped his chin on his hand, watching the spray of white water.

The Princess was so dissatisfied—why? Now, he truly felt a little sad.

After bathing, Zhao Rongzhang had intended to nap, but the heat toxin in her body seemed to have been stirred up by what had just happened. Restless, she curled up on the couch, rolling back and forth, her sweat dampening the mat, making it difficult to sleep. Unable to bear it, she retrieved clean ice cubes Ming Luo had prepared from the Ice Chest and chewed on them. Her teeth ached from the cold, but her body felt relief.

The heat toxin had been passed down from her Mother Consort’s womb, and her Mother Consort’s condition was even more severe. In her dreams, her Mother Consort called herself a wanton woman, and she was a Princess, but a Princess could also be a wanton woman. So what if she was a wanton woman?

She only blamed Little Cat—why was he so strange?

Ming Luo brought her chilled Pulse-Generating Dew to drink, a palace remedy for cooling the body and reducing spleen fire. Zhao Rongzhang had always disliked the medicinal smell wafting from the bowl and refused to drink it in previous years. But this time, she drank it all in one go.

Ming Luo watched, her heart heavy with worry. Last time, when she urged her to continue taking the Snow Essence Pill, she had been firmly refused and couldn’t bring it up again. Logically, once she decided to quit, there was no reason to resume, or she might never break free. They had to find another way. Ming Luo took the empty bowl and asked, “Is he incapable? Why has the Princess been tormented so severely by the heat toxin lately?”

Zhao Rongzhang furrowed her brows and ignored her.

Ming Luo picked up a cloth to wipe her sweat, her voice filled with concern. “This won’t do. Once we leave the palace in a few days, conditions on the road will be harsh, and even chewing ice will be a luxury. We must find a solution.”

Although the wedding was scheduled for six months later, that was the date of the formal ceremony. The marriage alliance procession would take at least three to four months to travel from Great Zhou to the northern border. Strictly speaking, they only had two or three months left in the palace.

Once the sweat on her chest and back had been mostly wiped away, Zhao Rongzhang lay back down on the freshly changed clean jade mat, fanning herself with a small fan. She was always irritable, and Ming Luo’s concern only made it worse, but she didn’t want to say anything.

Earlier, when she had wanted to speak of it, she refused to listen; now that she no longer wished to speak, she insisted on asking. Gradually, she felt this was not a suitable topic to discuss with others.

But Ming Luo’s words always made so much sense. After being urged, coaxed, and persuaded for a long while, Zhao Rongzhang hugged the jade-woven cool pillow, closed her eyes, and lay face down, lazily replying, “He’s too useless. I asked him to give it to me, but he couldn’t. Useless thing, he only managed it once.”

After she finished speaking, there was a long silence from the other side.

Zhao Rongzhang opened her eyes to look. Ming Luo was staring at her, deep in thought. She grew impatient. “What is it?”

“This is very strange. Usually, it’s only men who finish too quickly, leaving women unsatisfied. I’ve never heard of something like this.”

Having played around so many times, Zhao Rongzhang had gained quite a bit of understanding. She rolled over restlessly and added unhappily, “I can only manage one round—I run out of strength and get full too quickly. But I’m still quite capable. It’s just that he’s too incompetent.”

Based on her understanding of the Princess’s temperament, Ming Luo could already imagine most of her usual ways. Words that were too blunt would not sound pleasant, and the Princess wouldn’t take them in anyway. Ming Luo tactfully said, “Shouldn’t he be the one serving the Princess? Why is it always the Princess exerting the effort?”

Zhao Rongzhang’s hand, which had been fanning herself, paused.

Ming Luo gently guided her, “This heat toxin is fierce, and its intensity deepens over time. It will likely become harder to relieve with each occurrence. If the Princess only manages one round each time, how could that possibly be enough?”

Zhao Rongzhang fell silent.

In truth, there was another strange matter about the cat that troubled her, but it was even harder to speak of. She decided not to mention it and soon changed the subject, chatting idly for a while. Just as she began to feel drowsy from the conversation, Zhao Rongzhang suddenly sensed the cat’s presence in a hidden corner. The cat had returned from washing outside.

After a moment’s thought, Zhao Rongzhang sent Ming Luo away. These past few days, her mood had been poor, and the heat toxin was only one of the reasons. With her mood low, her appetite had diminished, and falling asleep had become difficult. Even when the physical desire from the heat toxin arose, she often couldn’t be bothered to relieve it.

Ultimately, it was those matters that had been weighing on her heart. After much reflection, it was mainly the Grand Empress Dowager’s words, “Your Emperor Father shouldn’t have doted on you so much,” that had left her unsettled to this day. Ming Luo’s comfort at the time had helped, but she herself hadn’t truly come to terms with it.

Though she couldn’t be bothered to relieve it, her body couldn’t endure it. After summoning the cat, Zhao Rongzhang peeled off his clothes and reached inside to touch his skin.

The cat had clearly washed in a mountain spring, his entire body chilled from the immersion, like a peeled, ice-soaked lychee. Not only was he cool, but he also carried a crisp, watery fragrance that, when inhaled, felt refreshing to the heart and mind. The moment Zhao Rongzhang caught his scent, her furrowed brow relaxed. Unable to get enough of touching him, she pressed closer. Finding her clothes in the way, she ordered him to remove hers as well. The cat’s hands were still clumsy; if there were too many knots, he couldn’t undo them properly. The Princess, annoyed by his clumsy paws, refused to let him continue.

The cat stood stiffly, allowing the Princess to peel him open and play with him as she pleased. Her play was chaotic, and at times, the cat’s balance wavered. His arms hung at his sides, wanting to steady the Princess’s body, but he lacked the courage. As soon as he returned, the Princess played with him. Yet when he left, she hadn’t even wanted to look at him. The cat always felt uneasy inside. Being the Princess’s toy was like this—when she was pleased, she was truly pleased. When she was unhappy, it was so unbearable. It was all because of the heat toxin, which made the Princess fluctuate so unpredictably.

Guan Xuan was lost in thought, distracted, and didn’t snap back to reality even when the Princess grabbed his chest. Hearing the Princess tell him to take cold showers from now on, he simply nodded obediently. It wasn’t until the Princess reached for that scar, stroking it back and forth a few times—whether playing or enjoying the texture—that he reacted. The Princess pressed her warm, soft belly against him as she straightened her posture, her tone indifferent: “I’m not a pervert. I don’t enjoy seeing people hurt.”

Especially her own toy.