Chapter 19 Little Mute Cries with Happiness.

The Princess’s breath brushed against the side of his neck, sometimes close, sometimes distant. Guan Xuan gazed at her hair, shimmering faintly in the fading sunset glow, and his heartbeat surged once more. Was the Princess explaining to him why she had suddenly become upset this afternoon?

Did the Princess dislike seeing him injured?

A dense, swelling warmth suddenly surged in his heart. It felt like contentment, yet not quite—unfamiliar and indescribable. He did not yet know this was called “being moved.”

His injuries were to be expected; torn flesh could always heal. Yet the Princess would be unhappy at the sight of his wounds. He thought, the Princess is truly kind.

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Guan Xuan’s eyes glistened with a thin layer of moisture. At this moment, he was willing to be her toy, to be a piece of useful flesh—anything, anything at all. Guan Xuan gauged when the Princess might want to press him down and began shifting his weight backward. Behind him was the bed frame, and he naturally leaned against it. Seeking more coolness, the Princess’s actions shifted from mere teasing and caressing to embracing. Guan Xuan grew to like his own body, because the Princess liked it so much.

Every pore of Zhao Rongzhang’s body yearned to release heat; every part of her greedily sought coolness. She stripped Little Mute’s clothes into disarray, leaving them hanging haphazardly on his slender, elegant limbs, making him look like a disheveled doll. Zhao Rongzhang was no longer satisfied with her earlier simple release; she needed more coolness. Yet Little Mute could not withstand being held—his body grew softer the more she embraced him. Wherever her breath touched, his skin flushed red.

Zhao Rongzhang warned, “Don’t get hot.”

Guan Xuan held his breath, struggling to restrain himself. But the Princess was so gentle, so fond of his body—his heart swelled with joy, making it especially difficult to hold back. Unbidden, moisture threatened to well up from below into his eyes.

Guan Xuan liked the Princess; he wanted to see her expression while she played with him. He hoped to see her pleased, satisfied expression toward him. His face burning, Guan Xuan secretly turned his neck to look. Sure enough, the Princess was gazing intently at his body, her eyes serious, deep desire swirling within them. That swelling warmth intensified at this moment, and his eyes grew hot. Unable to resist, Guan Xuan reached out to touch the Princess’s shoulder, wanting to bear her more intimate embrace, wanting to be tightly enveloped and contained by her. He wished to be completely owned and possessed by her, to become something she liked.

Guan Xuan dared not speak these thoughts aloud. Once uttered, they would sound like shameless begging, something that would earn disdainful glances. He was not begging, merely hoping. Fortunately, he could not speak.

“Useless, you feel so hot to the touch already,” the Princess murmured, kneading his lower back, quickly growing dissatisfied with his body temperature. That word “useless” made Guan Xuan’s eyelashes tremble, the hope in his heart teetering precariously. He took a deep breath, trying to lower his body temperature, but the Princess’s palms were so scorching, her touch so powerful, like ocean waves crashing against the shore—seemingly gentle yet containing boundless force. His breathing grew shaky; his efforts felt utterly futile against such strength.

Yet, even dissatisfied, the Princess’s strength did not diminish in the slightest—instead, it grew stronger. Just as he worried she might cast him aside, she held him even tighter. Even if he was useless, did she still like him?

The two slid down together in the fading orange-gold afterglow receding from the walls, slipping from the bedframe to the floor. The Princess, like a snake that had found its prey, coiled around him hungrily, yet was in no hurry to devour him. Guan Xuan reveled in it. He closed his eyes, the lingering light filtering through the dense thicket of his lashes to fall upon the Princess, his mind dizzy. Too tight—she held him too tightly—he felt he might die in that very moment.

His expectations were being fulfilled inch by inch, as he was completely accepted and possessed by her. He was her belonging. The process was so slow, yet so astonishing—the unspoken desires in his heart truly coming to fruition was an unexpected joy. Guan Xuan couldn’t bear to remain dizzy any longer; he wanted to keep watching the Princess, to see how she used him, how she claimed him. He gazed at her vaguely yet persistently, feeling everything she gave.

It went smoothly, far more smoothly than the difficult experience that afternoon. She moved with ease, moistening him. Moistening, moistened, faster and faster, more and more intense. She needed him more and more. Their necks overlapped, pressing and rubbing against each other.

His heart was filled with such overwhelming joy—joy to the extreme brought satisfaction, satisfaction to the extreme brought happiness. Guan Xuan was dizzy with happiness, nearly fainting as he gave everything, hot tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. His mind was blank, but his body was awake, acutely aware that he had reached his peak, and still aware of being held so tightly. Thus, even in exhaustion, he swelled again almost immediately.

Guan Xuan’s mouth was dry, parched, likely from panting with his mouth open all along. The dizziness persisted, but he still wanted to look at the Princess. Being her toy was wonderful, truly blissful. He loved the Princess.

Zhao Rongzhang was swept away by the current, her waist trembling and swaying, her eyes never leaving the Little Mute in her arms. The Little Mute’s lips were so red, his teeth so white, the snowy teeth and glossy red tongue clinging with silvery strands. She stared, feeling an indescribable impulse within. His cheeks were like misty clouds, flushed red against his fair skin, so beautiful. His eyes, usually round like a young animal’s, were now curved like this, sparkling with crystalline tears, the corners damp and red. He looked as if he were about to faint, yet his eyes remained fixed on her, unblinking—so obedient, so pitiable and endearing.

Zhao Rongzhang held his athletic body, tightening her arms around him. She touched his burning face, her ears warmed by his scorching breath. He was so obedient, truly a baby.

Tossing and turning, the sky grew completely dark, the bright white moonlight filtering hazily through the window, the moon’s shadow on the wall shifting higher and higher from bottom to top, while the shadows of the two grew shorter and shorter. By the latter half of the night, one lay completely flat, the other completely prone.

Puddles on the floor were all sticky and pungent. The Princess’s skin was extremely hot, though the heat toxin within her had mostly dissipated. Her face rested on the Little Mute’s warm, soft chest, intimately attuned to his wave-like breathing. The Princess was utterly exhausted; sleeping like this was comfortable, so she simply drifted off.

Upon waking, the wall was bathed in light, though it was the fierce glare of sunlight. The Princess heard restrained panting beneath her ear and felt the moist, soft place still wrapped around something immensely practical and swollen. She opened her eyes, glancing down at the Little Mute with his lashes closed. He was still unconscious, his lips slightly parted, his brows sensuously furrowed. How peculiar—this was the first time she had seen him in such a state of unconsciousness.

The liquid stains on the floor had already dried, patch by patch, trailing down to their waists, where everything remained damp and slick. Zhao Rongzhang almost wanted to continue, but a sharp pain in her abdomen made it impossible. During those two or three hours in the first half of the night, she had been so dizzy, completely losing track of time, utterly unwilling to tire, her desire blazing fiercely under the gaze of those misty, smoke-filled eyes. She wanted to watch him ripen again and again, each time more thoroughly than the last, until he was utterly ruined. Little Mute had ripened to the point of tears, crying from both above and below, yet with a strikingly different intensity.

Little Mute hadn’t slept for long, opening his damp, sticky eyelashes under her gaze. These two fans of originally delicate, curved lashes were now disheveled and askew, yet they gave rise to another kind of chaotic beauty. Beneath them, a pair of dark eyes awoke once more, radiating an almost extreme warmth and devotion. So very obedient.

Zhao Rongzhang caressed his still-flushed face, stroking his cheeks, not yet releasing him, leisurely savoring the memory. Her arm rested on his chest as she propped her chin on her hand, looking down at her Little Mute with a smile in her eyes.

“Why did you cry?” A question completely opposite to yesterday’s.

Little Mute’s face flushed red again. Yesterday, he had said he couldn’t cry unless he was sad. Was he sad last night? Is he sad now?

Guan Xuan raised his right hand, his fingers tracing meaning in her eyes: “Happy.”

That was the most he could convey. But it wasn’t just happiness. Guan Xuan extended his long fingers, touching the Princess’s propped-up forearm. Having made contact, the Princess still smiled, and he knew he was permitted. Blushing, he looked into the Princess’s eyes and gently wrote with his fingertip, in tiny strokes.

“Bliss.”

Zhao Rongzhang laughed. “Cried from bliss?”

Little Mute was unbearably shy, yet his gaze refused to waver as he nodded at her.

Zhao Rongzhang stroked his head, finding him adorable. Little Cat’s mind could only hold so much.

He enjoyed being held so much—if she had praised him a little more last night, how much more ecstatic would he have become? Unfortunately, she had been too immersed to think of it. She could try next time.

It was getting late; it was time to rise. Zhao Rongzhang slowly shifted to the side, naturally withdrawing him. She trembled a few times, and Little Mute gasped sharply again, his hand lightly gripping her forearm, forgetting to let go. As Zhao Rongzhang tried to pull away, he blinked rapidly, his fingers boldly pressing against the back of her hand.

Zhao Rongzhang could tell he had something to say—did he still want more? She found it amusing. “I don’t need it anymore. Next time. When I want it, it won’t be up to you.”

Little Mute still didn’t withdraw his fingers, seemingly not taking her words to heart. Zhao Rongzhang felt a flicker of displeasure. When she wanted it, it wasn’t up to him; when she didn’t, it certainly wasn’t up to him either. Was he already growing arrogant from being favored?

She was about to warn him, her brows not yet furrowed, when she felt his slightly cool fingers gently tracing on the back of her hand. She lowered her gaze to see his moist eyes, submissive and obedient, watching her as he wrote stroke by stroke: “Worry.”

He spread his five fingers toward her, meaning “you,” then gently swayed them left and right, fully expressing: “Princess, don’t worry.”

Zhao Rongzhang silently watched his gestures and his eyes.

Expression was a difficult task for Guan Xuan. He did his best to convey his meaning—expressing “bad,” expressing “too many,” expressing “should”… Putting it all together, he said: “There are too many bad people. Princess should be worse.”

Zhao Rongzhang had not expected Little Mute to say such a thing, nor could he understand why he would say it. Surely he didn’t want her to treat him even worse, did he?

Suddenly, Zhao Rongzhang realized—he was talking about something else entirely. Skeptically raising an eyebrow, he wondered, did he actually understand what she was worried about?