Chapter 43 (Revised) But Isn’t That What He’s For…

Seeing the old man in a hurry to leave, Zhao Rongzhang didn’t have time to think and called out from behind, “Guan Xuan.”

This old man was simply trying to trick Little Mute out to take his pulse.

The young man’s shadow fell over the dark corner.

After taking his pulse, the old man couldn’t help but laugh. “Young Master, the pent-up frustration in your heart has eased a lot, and you’re sleeping more. It can’t just be the effect of my few prescriptions, can it?”

He looked thoughtfully at Zhao Rongzhang.

Zhao Rongzhang glared back in annoyance, telling him to finish writing the new prescription and get out quickly.

The old man was escorted out. Zhao Rongzhang flung the curtain aside and returned to the room, glaring angrily at Little Mute, who was standing guard nearby. The heat toxin hadn’t eased at all—it had actually worsened. The old man had even told her to seek advice from Little Mute. What did Little Mute know?

The Princess forced herself to calm down. She was the master; she didn’t need to care whether he understood or not. It was his duty to understand her needs and serve her well.

The candlelight was dim, hazy behind the bed curtains. The entire room was sparsely lit, illuminating most of the objects but leaving them indistinct.

The slightly curled ends of the girl’s hair lightly brushed the deep hollow of her waist, while her smooth, thick, long hair draped over the curves of her body. Amid the black hair, a fair, plump shoulder occasionally peeked out.

The girl was reading, her head following the movement of her eyes as she traced the sentences.

Guan Xuan held the Princess’s right hip; her skin was warm, soft, and delicate. He remained motionless for a long time.

Their fates had unexpectedly aligned in some moments. The Princess, forced by the heat toxin to seek relief, was no different from him, who had once refused to be toyed with.

The Princess glanced over. “Hurry up, don’t delay my sleep.”

Guan Xuan remained silent, released his grip, and the girl’s abdomen settled back onto the bedding. Her deep black eyes fixed on him sideways, ready to scold him. But Guan Xuan, holding her by the hair, lifted her shoulders.

The young man leaned forward, a thick arm spanning above her. The warmth of his palm enveloped her entire shoulder and most of her collarbone. From this angle, looking up and down, it felt overwhelmingly oppressive to her.

Little Mute hooked her waist. Just as she was about to close her book, he suddenly cupped her chin, and his soft lips pressed against hers. Zhao Rongzhang didn’t pull away, watching his long eyelashes in the hazy light. He really was like a cat—expressionless, showing no emotion on his face.

Little Mute kissed her lips, the sides of her nose, her chin… It was more like gentle pressing.

While pressing against her face, he grasped the inside of her left thigh and turned her over. Zhao Rongzhang lay on top of him, her waist encircled, the back of her neck supported.

He bent his legs, holding her even tighter. He cradled the Princess’s head, searching, and offered his chest to her.

The clumsy cat let out a low gasp, ruffled her hair, and smoothed it down, as if indulging her.

The young man lowered his gaze, looking affectionately at her occasionally exposed forehead and brows. When the time was right, he tightened his grip around her waist, hooked one of her knees, and pressed her waist down deeply.

Zhao Rongzhang gasped, opening her throat, her teeth lightly grazing his chest.

…

He held her for a while until the Princess’s breathing steadied, then got up to wipe her down and dress her. The Princess naturally fell asleep.

Guan Xuan lay on his side beside her, gazing at the Princess. The Princess was like a baby. Without the imposing aura she carried during the day, when she simply revealed her true nature, she was just a baby. He held her close, greedily nestling into her embrace.

In the morning, when the Princess woke up, she sat lazily by the bed for a long while. As she ate her breakfast, her mind lingered on everything that had happened the previous night. Just then, Shuang An approached with a furrowed brow, saying she had two pieces of news to share.

The first was that there had been no movement from Su Tan’s side, making it impossible to determine whether she had received the message. The other was that her father had sent word informing her that the prefectural office of Hongfu Prefecture was pressuring the counties under its jurisdiction to search for Princess Yingrong, who had gone missing in the area.

It was said that the Turkic Khan, upon learning that Princess Yingrong had been abducted on her way to the wedding, had flown into a rage, believing that Great Zhou had reneged on its promise and was using bandits as a pretext to mock him. After all, she was a princess of a nation. If Great Zhou had truly been serious, bandits would never have had the opportunity to strike.

This reasoning was not wrong, but as Zhao Rongzhang listened, her heart remained unmoved. These matters no longer concerned her. Let the court worry about them.

Zhao Rongzhang was more concerned about why there had been no news from Su Tan.

“What I fear most is that the message was intercepted along the way. If that happened, even we would be in danger. But Aunt Tan has been entrenched there for years, and her network is far more intricate and secure than ours. It’s unlikely to be compromised so easily. I’m afraid… has something happened to her?”

Zhao Rongzhang had already formed an idea in her mind. “Don’t let your thoughts run wild. For now, follow the established procedures. Handle things as they should be handled, and take all necessary precautions. At worst, we’ll have to postpone the plan to rescue Ming Luo and reconsider it later. At least we now know Ming Luo is safe.”

Shuang An took a deep breath and nodded in agreement. Since the plan couldn’t proceed at the moment, it meant the timing wasn’t right. If they had to wait for the right opportunity, they needed to remain calm and avoid impulsiveness. Shuang An composed herself and went off to handle matters according to the strategy she had discussed with the Princess.

In the evening, Shuang An accompanied the Princess for a stroll in the courtyard. Perhaps due to the recent busyness and the lingering heat toxin that never seemed to fully dissipate, the Princess’s face grew increasingly devoid of smiles. Though Shuang An showed no outward concern, she was deeply worried inside.

As she pondered how to ease the Princess’s burdens, the Princess spoke up first, initiating a conversation. “I don’t know if I’m just tired of it, but I find this whole thing rather boring.”

Shuang An took a moment to process this before realizing the Princess was referring to the detoxification process. Hesitantly, she asked, “But last night… didn’t Your Highness seem quite satisfied?”

“It was pleasurable, but not enjoyable.”

Shuang An was puzzled. If it was pleasurable, why wasn’t it enjoyable?

“Could it be that there isn’t enough variety?” Shuang An lowered her voice slightly and suggested, “I know of many things that can be used to enhance the experience. If Your Highness wishes, I can have them sent over tonight?”

Variety? Zhao Rongzhang felt that she and Little Mute had plenty of variety between them.

Zhao Rongzhang fidgeted for a moment before stopping in her tracks and frowning. “Are the male prostitutes you find all very obedient?”

“Anything disobedient would never be brought before Your Highness.”

Zhao Rongzhang gazed silently at the ripples in the pond.

“Your Highness, what exactly are you thinking?” Shuang An’s eyes swept their surroundings. “Is it something you don’t want him to hear?”

Of course not. What could she possibly hide from him? Zhao Rongzhang straightened her sleeves and spoke bluntly, “I find it dull! When he does it, it’s so obvious he’s just serving me. It’s utterly boring!”

“But isn’t he meant to serve the Princess?”

Zhao Rongzhang felt restless and confused, unable to sort through her tangled thoughts. She simply sat down on the stone table nearby.

It was so dull, so boring. He was too obedient, making her feel like she was just a tool used to pamper him. Could anyone replace her, and he would still be the same? Would he willingly give himself to anyone who showed an obsession with his body?

During dinner that evening, the Princess chewed her food with simmering anger, stuffing meat into her mouth bite by bite. Once full, she put down her chopsticks and called for Little Mute.

When Little Mute saw her, there was a faint, gentle smile in his eyes. What was this cat so happy about? Zhao Rongzhang uncrossed her legs and walked toward him.

Seeing her approach, the young man lifted his dark eyes. The Princess’s anger seemed to burn him, and he suppressed the smile in his gaze, gesturing as if admitting fault: “Did I… not serve the Princess well?”

Zhao Rongzhang only stared into his eyes.

She was so annoyed with him, so annoyed! First, she was annoyed that he thought she was just a shallow person who liked promiscuous men. Second, she was annoyed that he didn’t actually like her body, that he treated it like a task every time!

Zhao Rongzhang was a carefree person—a temperament nurtured by her noble status. No matter what she said or did, someone always found a way to praise her.

But sometimes, such carelessness could be undignified. For instance, putting herself in a lower position to demand why he wouldn’t give himself to her, or why he didn’t deserve to. She would never do that. Even when asking Mother Consort or Emperor Father for something, she would hold herself high, making them willingly offer what she wanted.

Zhao Rongzhang frequently got angry with Little Mute, mainly because of his foolishness, stubbornness, and lack of human understanding. He couldn’t cleverly discern what she wanted like other intelligent people. He didn’t even fear her like others did—he wasn’t afraid of her at all. And he didn’t love her like others did.

Not clever, not fearful, not loving—he was like a soulless puppet. Though his body and mind were entirely under her control, he lacked the subservience of a slave.

Though inwardly raging, Zhao Rongzhang remained calm on the surface and asked him, “Then where do you think you didn’t serve well?”

“I… am too boring.”

He actually knew he was boring!

Guan Xuan gazed into the Princess’s eyes, where a faint, smoldering fire burned deep within her dark pupils. He added, “Not fun.”

He had overheard the conversation between the Princess and Shuang An. The Princess said he served her in a dull way—this dullness wasn’t about strength, so it must mean he, as a person, was boring and not fun.

“Who is not fun?”

The Princess stood just a few steps away, looking at him expressionlessly, her words sharp and tense.

Guan Xuan didn’t know the root cause of the Princess’s boredom. From his own perspective, he also found it boring, mainly because he thought the act of intimacy itself was uninteresting. The Princess could not be treated frivolously—he couldn’t imagine her becoming disheveled in front of anyone, including himself. He didn’t like treating her that way.

Guan Xuan didn’t fall into this seemingly binary question, even though its direction had already veered off course. He answered earnestly according to the original meaning: “This matter… is not fun.”