Chapter 34: Stray Cat. Feigning Resistance While Actually Welcoming…

The cat was about to collapse. The most urgent question now was where to let him fall.

The bed wouldn’t do—that was where she slept. The floor was also out of the question; if someone came in, there’d be no way to hide him. She shouldn’t have made him take the medicine at this time. No, she shouldn’t have given it to him at all! He was a Shadow Guard, required to remain alert at all times—what business did he have sleeping?

Before she could devise a plan, the medicine’s effects refused to wait. Though the cat forcefully pressed his acupoints, the clarity it brought lasted only a moment. Zhao Rongzhang saw his eyelids already struggling to stay open.

How could the medicine be so potent? Had that old man really been treating him like some beast? Yet when Zhao Rongzhang reviewed the prescription, she hadn’t thought the dosage would be inappropriate for the cat either.

Perhaps feeling his head grow heavy, the cat leaned against the window rail, resting half his face against it. His fair skin reflected the intense sunlight, while his dark, thick eyelashes stood out prominently. With so many people outside, Zhao Rongzhang suddenly disliked the idea of him being seen. She reached out, pulling that round cat head inward, tucking it against her chest and arm.

The cat still struggled desperately to stay conscious, but his strength was failing. After his face bumped against the Princess’s chest, his hands fell onto her arms. He tried to rouse himself, to push her away, yet the only thing he managed to open was a narrow slit beneath his lashes.

The cat, who could barely stand, seemed utterly broken. Zhao Rongzhang hooked an arm around his neck, leading him toward a spot untouched by light. “Come here.”

Half-broken already, the cat could hardly control his body, stumbling along unsteadily. Fortunately, the room was small, and the bed was just a couple of steps away. Zhao Rongzhang half-dragged, half-pushed him toward it, commanding, “Get up.”

The cat gripped the edge of the bed, unmoving. Seeing him on the verge of collapsing unconscious beside the bed, Zhao Rongzhang bent down and patted his cheek. “Get up. Hurry.”

The furnishings in this room were so sparse, and the bed frame was sealed shut. Aside from behind the bed curtains, there was almost nowhere to hide. Zhao Rongzhang feared he might be discovered. He had no identity in this world—being found would bring serious trouble.

Patting his face made the cat frown, his eyelashes trembling weakly toward her before finally revealing a sliver of dark pupils. This wasn’t the first time Zhao Rongzhang had seen him in a dazed state; she knew he could be quite temperamental when not fully conscious. After giving her that strained glance, he lowered his eyes again, wearing an expression of exhaustion and resignation.

He was amusing. Even when she was thoroughly annoyed with him, Zhao Rongzhang always felt this way. Even now, when he might very well cause her trouble. Amusement allowed her to tolerate many things.

“Get up there and hide yourself well,” Zhao Rongzhang sharpened her tone slightly, then added, “Little Cat, be good.”

Since they’d been on the run, she hadn’t called him “Little Cat” in days. Little Cat’s breathing had already steadied, but upon hearing this, he mustered his five senses, trying to find a suitable place to hide. Zhao Rongzhang removed her shoes, climbed onto the bed, and tugged at his arm. “Stop fussing. There’s nowhere else for you to hide here. Do you think I want you on my bed? If you dare cause trouble for me, I’ll tie you up and teach you a lesson.”

With a mix of pulling and dragging, the cat finally lifted his head, straining to move onto the bed. Zhao Rongzhang got off the bed again, using her foot to nudge him upward. This cat’s flesh was too tightly packed—he was unbearably heavy.

Despite the heat, Zhao Rongzhang spread the quilt over him, covering him from head to toe. Little Mute’s shoulders were too broad, his legs too long, almost too much for the bed, creating a large, conspicuous lump. Zhao Rongzhang then lowered the bed curtains.

After finishing these tasks, Zhao Rongzhang poured two cups of tea, sat down, and carefully examined the prescription. How long would he have to sleep? Would he wake within two hours?

Night soon fell, but Little Mute showed no signs of waking. Zhao Rongzhang didn’t dare leave rashly or call for the Waiter. When hunger struck, she stood in the second-floor corridor and ordered two dishes from the Innkeeper downstairs. The food, when served, was mediocre at best, leaving Zhao Rongzhang in a gloomy mood. The most satisfying meal she’d had in days was the two Bamboo Tube rice portions Little Mute had produced the day before. Even now, she had no idea where he’d gotten them. The same went for the tea leaves, teaware, and the now-melted ice on the table—if he had bought them, where had he gotten the money?

After a day of travel, Zhao Rongzhang couldn’t go without a bath, so she risked discovery by requesting hot water. As she washed, she glanced toward the bed. Little Mute had been buried under the quilt for most of the day—would he start to smell? And if so, how was she supposed to sleep?

After a quick bath, Zhao Rongzhang hurriedly lit a lamp, hung up the bed curtains, and pulled back the warm quilt. Little Mute lay there asleep, his posture barely changed. Zhao Rongzhang leaned in closer and sniffed him. Thankfully, he didn’t smell. If he had, she would have had to discard everything on the bed—she couldn’t bear it otherwise. She touched his face and forehead; there was indeed sweat, but only a thin layer, cool to the touch and smooth as jade.

Zhao Rongzhang was already tempted to kick him off the bed. She had finally gotten a somewhat decent bed to sleep in, and now he was hogging it, sleeping for so long! Standing by the bed, she lifted her foot and pushed him inward with effort—first his hips, then his shoulders and waist, even his head. Even after all that, Little Mute didn’t wake. He was sleeping like the dead.

After managing to shift him considerably inward, Zhao Rongzhang sat on the bed and pushed and squeezed him forcefully, finally clearing a large space for herself. Little Mute was now pressed almost against the wall.

Zhao Rongzhang lifted the curtain, blew out the lamp, let out a sigh, and sprawled comfortably on the bed, ready to sleep.

But sleep wouldn’t come. It was unbearably hot and stuffy. Zhao Rongzhang tossed and turned several times, her heart restless and agitated. That scheming Old Doctor, this useless mute cat—on such a hot day, with no one to fan her, how could she possibly sleep!

Zhao Rongzhang got up and opened the window for some air, only to find that the incense in the room did little to repel mosquitoes. A swarm of mosquitoes buzzed in, biting her left and right. She swatted at them repeatedly but couldn’t catch a single one. Her frustration doubled, and she angrily slammed the window shut with a loud “thud.”

Returning to bed, she tightened the curtains and hid inside, resenting Little Mute even more for sleeping like a dead cat—unable to get up and drive away the mosquitoes, unable to fetch her some itch-relieving herbs, and unable to fan her to cool her down. This useless cat.

As she stretched her arms out, her wrist landed in the hollow of Little Mute’s neck—a spot of gentle coolness. Suddenly, Zhao Rongzhang remembered sleeping on him the night before, soft and cool, and the thought stirred in her mind.

She sat up and turned Little Mute’s shoulders toward her, pulling at his clothes. Zhao Rongzhang was already skilled at undressing him, and in just a few moves, she had him nearly stripped. She wrapped her arms around him, her legs tangling with his, as if she were embracing a cool piece of jade. Even better than jade, his body was soft and pleasantly plump. With her face pressed against his neck, the fire in Zhao Rongzhang’s heart subsided considerably, and drowsiness slowly began to settle in.

By dawn, with the faint rise and fall of his breath against her chest, Zhao Rongzhang, half-asleep, felt a comforting fullness in her arms. She cracked her eyes open and, in the grayish light of early morning, saw Little Mute’s dark head nestled against her. He lay curled in her embrace, letting her hold him. Her chest tingled with a faint itch, and he felt soft against her. Zhao Rongzhang shifted, pulling him closer, and they slept on, heads resting together.

But the itch didn’t fade. Instead, with each breath he took, it seemed to spread deeper and further. After barely half an hour of peaceful sleep, Zhao Rongzhang woke again. By now, the sky was fully bright, and the fresh morning light bathed everything, making the world feel renewed.

She hadn’t slept enough, and the heat toxin showed clear signs of returning. Zhao Rongzhang tried to pull Little Mute out of her arms, but he clung like sticky candy—damp and heavy, impossible to separate. Her body craved action, but this cat seemed oblivious to the danger, still pressing against her. Well, if he was so eager, why refuse? She might as well go ahead.

Zhao Rongzhang shifted her hips upward, pressing against him through the fabric. Clearly, this wanton cat was always ready to be taken—his body cool to the touch, except for that one heated spot she’d instinctively avoided while sleeping.

This cat was always throwing tantrums and full of quirks. She wanted to see, in this state, whether he’d still be unable to finish. Wasn’t wantonness his very nature?

Rubbing her eyes, Zhao Rongzhang rolled over and pinned him down, leaning over his chest as she reached lower to tug at his inner sash. Undressing him always stirred her interest and desire even more. But just as she pulled the fabric to his hip, her shoulder was pushed away.

This cat actually refused to let her undress him.

Bleary-eyed, Zhao Rongzhang lifted her head. Little Mute’s eyes were indeed still tightly shut, deep in sleep. The more he resisted, the more determined she became. Focusing her energy, she pinned his arm with one hand and tugged at the cloth with the other. But Little Mute’s strength was far greater than she’d imagined—like a mantis trying to stop a chariot, with him as the chariot and her as the mantis. With an unconscious lift of his hand, he easily shook hers off. Zhao Rongzhang thought it absurd. He was hers to keep—she could eat or use him as she pleased. How dare he refuse? A playful push during their usual games was one thing, but how could he outright reject her like this?

Acting all coy when he was clearly this wanton.

Zhao Rongzhang moved her hand lower, but her wrist was caught. The man beneath her took two deep breaths and pushed her away without any room for argument—so thoroughly that her waist and legs slipped off unintentionally.

The heat toxin made her body grow increasingly restless, and frustration boiled inside her. Zhao Rongzhang’s expression darkened. What was he pretending for, anyway!

She pinched his cheeks and covered his nose, but his eyes remained tightly shut, refusing to wake.

Infuriating! Even in his sleep, he resisted her. So, deep down, he never wanted her to play with him, never wanted her to take him? Was that really why he couldn’t finish?

Zhao Rongzhang was so furious her face nearly turned red. That damn cat—why bother treating him at all? Let him die! She punched him hard, still not venting her anger, then punched him again. She had never been this angry before! Aside from his pretty face and useful parts, what was there to like about him? And he had the nerve to act aggrieved—aggrieved, my ass!

No way. The more he resisted, the more determined she was to do it, and to do it forcefully—she would make him submit, make him cry, make him wake up! Might as well do him to death!

But Little Mute didn’t even give her a chance to touch him. He curled up on his side, bending his knees to shield his most vulnerable spot.

However, Zhao Rongzhang looked down at her sleeve, which he was clutching.

This cat had one hand covering his chest, trying to fend her off, yet his other arm was tightly pulling at her, wanting her to hold him. His brows were furrowed, his expression pained and longing.

Zhao Rongzhang stared for a long moment, then sneered in anger.

What a wanton cat. A wanton cat playing hard to get.

Since he wouldn’t let her do it, he shouldn’t expect her to hold him either. Zhao Rongzhang refused to bother with him—she wouldn’t let it seem as if she couldn’t do without him, as if there was no other way to cure this poison.

As she’d said before, there were plenty of men in this world. What kind couldn’t she have?

Zhao Rongzhang kicked him, pulled his hand off her sleeve, and got out of bed. Just as she slipped on her shoes, she heard the sound of a pillow falling from the bed. Zhao Rongzhang glanced up and saw Little Mute reaching toward the spot where she had been lying.