Chapter 54 (Revised) He Admired Her, Affirmed…

They were targeting Zhao Rongzhang and the other two.

Guan Xuan sat guarding the outer edge. As soon as the fat old man’s whip lashed out, it was caught firmly in his palm. The fat old man, furious, yanked with all his might, but the whip didn’t budge an inch, his face turning livid.

Guan Xuan lifted his cold gaze, a throwing knife already poised in his sleeve, ready in the next moment to pierce the man’s throat. However, from behind came the girl’s voice, eerily calm: “We can catch crabs. We’ll go right now. The two of us can do the work of four.”

As she spoke, Zhao Rongzhang tied up her hair, got off the bed to put on her shoes, and even pulled a Panbo from Little Mute’s lapel, using it to tie back her cumbersome wide sleeves. Two pale, slender forearms emerged from the sleeves. Little Mute was still locked in a tense standoff with the fat old man. Zhao Rongzhang pushed past the obstructive old man, shouldered a bamboo basket, and walked out the door.

So Guan Xuan followed her out.

Guan Xuan and the Princess shared a small boat. Early autumn mornings were already quite cold. The Princess leaned over the side of the boat, her hand reaching into the murky water below. Guan Xuan didn’t want her to do it herself, but she stubbornly refused. Yet when her hand actually sank into the unseen depths, fear gripped her.

She hated water. She hated the vast, boundless rivers, the deep, dark lakes, and this filthy crab pond. She was afraid—afraid of the muddy silt at the bottom, afraid of lurking water snakes. But looking up at the other boats, no one else seemed afraid. Some people even laughed excitedly when a crab pinched their hand.

Zhao Rongzhang mustered her courage and reached in, but Little Mute insisted on pulling her back. She grew irritable. If everyone else could do it, why did he have to stop her? Did he look down on her abilities?

Finally, her fingers brushed against a crab shell—hard, pitted, alive. For a moment, Zhao Rongzhang’s mind went blank. How many crabs had she consumed in her lifetime? Yet this was the first time she had ever touched a live crab, covered in mud.

She couldn’t remember how many shad fish she had eaten or how many lychees she had peeled. Such delicacies had once been delivered to her by Eight Hundred Li Express. It was the privilege of being a royal princess—receiving everything without having to give anything in return.

Now she was digging the crab out of the mud with her own hands. But even if her arms were scratched by the nets or her fingers pinched by the claws, this crab would not be hers to keep.

Little Mute had already caught nearly half a basket of crabs, while she had only managed two. He kept writing on her shoulder: Enough. It’s enough if I catch them.

Zhao Rongzhang refused to yield. She refused to believe that something everyone else could do well, she would fail at. Time and again, she brushed Little Mute’s hand away. From dawn until noon, from noon until dusk, when everyone else had returned to the bamboo shelters, she was still there, feeling around in the water.

She was covered in the stench of lake water and cold, sour sweat. When boats bumped against each other, people chatted, counting their catches. Zhao Rongzhang listened; no one had caught fewer than she had. She was filthy, exhausted, and starving. When Little Mute tried to feed her, the mere smell of the food made her nauseous.

What was even more sickening was that just as she was focusing on the task, that familiar agony within her body returned. She couldn’t help but bite her lip and twist her waist, but the pain did not lessen in the slightest.

It was the heat toxin.

A plump crab she had just managed to grasp slipped from her trembling hand. In this damp, filthy place, she couldn’t even control her own body. Zhao Rongzhang curled up tightly, trying to endure.

Little Mute held her tightly, Zhao Rongzhang clutching his collar, sobbing in suppressed anguish against his chest. She wept with hatred—why couldn’t she even control her own body?!

Would she be like this for the rest of her life? Trapped forever in this sorrowful mortal world, unable to return to the capital city, never reaching the day her ambitions would be realized?

On an early autumn night, the dew was icy cold. Mosquitoes had not yet died out, lurking in the damp, overgrown weeds, swarming and buzzing incessantly at the first sign of living creatures.

The Princess kept crying, her voice very soft, but her tears large and heavy, soaking Guan Xuan’s collar. Holding her, he stepped against the wind across tiles, leaping over layers of eaves and walls. He left a dagger forged from Snow Essence Steel on the front counter of an inn, then turned and pushed open the door to a guest room.

Even as she was placed inside the bed curtains, the Princess was still crying. She lay there with her head turned to the side, motionless. Her eyes slanted downward, gazing dully at the folds of the curtains.

Guan Xuan tried to speak to her, but the Princess did not even lift her eyelids. Her chest rose and fell irregularly, and her tears fell irregularly. When had the Princess ever been so disheartened?

Zhao Rongzhang had lived for sixteen years, and for fourteen of those years, she had gotten whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. Even if there had been storms in the past two years, they had never truly poured down upon her.

But ever since leaving the palace, the storms had not ceased. She realized she was not someone of importance at all, lacking even basic wisdom.

She did not truly understand the suffering of the mortal world, nor did she comprehend what hardship meant. She thought she was young, strong, and capable of achieving anything she desired. She believed she was a Princess, different from ordinary people. But what did being a Princess even amount to?

She was naive, ignorant, and mediocre. She couldn’t even control her own body. If she hadn’t been born in the palace, how many years would she have survived?

Little Mute stroked her hair, but she brushed him away without a glance. He grasped her shoulders, and she pushed him aside.

Entangling with Little Mute—of course she wanted it, of course she liked it. Sometimes, she even craved it like a beast. The heat toxin completely controlled her body, and to make the self within her heart accept it, the heat toxin deceitfully whispered that she was enjoying it.

But freedom was not about doing whatever she wanted; freedom should mean she could choose not to do what she didn’t want to do.

Little Mute came to hold her again. Her body had reached its limit of endurance, and Zhao Rongzhang’s emotions teetered on the brink of collapse. She glared at him fiercely: “Get out.”

The candlelight cast Little Mute’s shadow, covering most of the bed and enveloping her. He silently watched her eyes, his deep black pupils reflecting her face.

Zhao Rongzhang coldly turned her face away. Before she could fully turn, her chin and neck were suddenly gripped by a pair of icy hands. Zhao Rongzhang despised this sudden act of defiance, but Little Mute gave her no chance to vent her anger. He pressed down and kissed her—fiercely, yet softly.

His tongue licked and toyed with hers. The Princess’s eyes grew hazy, and she tilted her neck, letting out two soft whimpers. But in her heart, she was still deeply unwilling. She was heartbroken, angry, and even had the thought that she would rather be burned alive by the heat toxin than let it succeed.

She pushed Little Mute fiercely, raising her knee to kick him away. Little Mute stopped kissing her, his eyelashes just a breath away from her face. He caressed her cheek, gazing at her with reluctance. Zhao Rongzhang felt both triumphant and desolate. Before these emotions could fully form, her body was suddenly kneaded by Little Mute. Zhao Rongzhang went limp on one side, trembling as she curled her shoulders. But as soon as she curled up, she was pressed back down. Little Mute roughly tore open her clothes.

Zhao Rongzhang dug her nails into his arms, sinking them deep into his flesh. He leaned down to taste her, and she took a deep breath, but couldn’t catch it again, her breathing growing shorter and more rapid. He didn’t linger too long, his lips moving to her chest, then to her collarbone, throat, and the side of her neck.

Zhao Rongzhang was still crying, sobbing uncontrollably, her cries sometimes light, sometimes short. Little Mute kissed her, caressed her, but didn’t go any further. Zhao Rongzhang was utterly annoyed with him, but he cupped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. She refused, lowering her eyelids, so he kissed her eyes and nose, over and over again. This went back and forth.

It felt like a tender yet distinctly awkward game. There was no hope of this mute breaking the stalemate, so she whispered a curse at him: “Stupid cat.”

Little Mute smiled, his nose brushing against hers as he kissed her cheek. He raised those beautiful eyes again, gazing deeply at her.

“What do you want!” Zhao Rongzhang was furious. Her clothes were torn, and all he did was kiss her—what exactly did he want!

Guan Xuan continued to gently stroke her forehead and hair.

“Say something! If you can’t speak, can’t you at least…”

Little Mute kissed her again, as if annoyed by her chatter.

Zhao Rongzhang pinched him, mumbling, “Stupid mute…”

He ignored her pinching, continuing to kiss downward, even biting. Zhao Rongzhang couldn’t help but cling tightly to him, letting out a soft moan. But then he stopped kissing her, still staring into her eyes.

Zhao Rongzhang had no choice but to look back at him, annoyed yet softened.

After a while, she saw herself reflected in his eyes. His gaze was gentle, filled with endless tenderness and affirmation. And the version of herself reflected in his eyes seemed so worthy of admiration.

He appreciated her, affirmed her, worshipped her.

Zhao Rongzhang rolled her eyes. In truth, she was too embarrassed to face the version of herself she saw in his eyes.

“Tch.” Little Mute let out a soft, breathy laugh.

He dared to laugh at her. Zhao Rongzhang glared back, pulling his neck down. She kissed him as if punishing him, gripping his body tightly as if demanding more.

The Princess lay sprawled on the damp bedding, whimpering softly. Not much time had passed—the candle had only just burned down to its end. Her eyelids drooped as she breathed in the scent of sunlight on the pillow, drifting into a hazy sleep as her body gradually relaxed.

She wasn’t sure if she had truly fallen asleep, as she could still feel Little Mute lifting her. But she was too tired to care.

Little Mute held her by the hips, kissing her neck and shoulders before moving to her body again. But this time, it wasn’t as intense—unlike the earlier passion, his kisses were tender and reverent. Zhao Rongzhang squirmed, signaling her annoyance, and only then did Little Mute stop, soothing her gently.

She was placed into warm water.

Guan Xuan tidied the bed. The bedding was soaked through in a large patch, all carrying the Princess’s scent. Guan Xuan held the quilt, staring at the damp stain for a long time. He glanced sideways at the Princess’s head drooping against the edge of the tub. She had probably fallen asleep.

He gathered the quilt, and when he clutched the still-warm damp patch, moisture nearly seeped from between his fingers. Lost in thought, he brought the wet bedding to his mouth and nose. A sweet, mellow fragrance—one he knew so well, loved so deeply, and grew more enchanted with each passing day.

The scenes from moments ago resurfaced in his mind. Under his gaze, she had been dizzy with ecstasy, lost to the world. Easily satisfied, easily freed from the heat toxin, he had no choice but to end it. Most of the time, it was like this—almost every time. He was not a man of greed.

He was not a man of greed. Not greedy for food, not greedy for desire, his sleep shallow and light. The only thing he craved a little was her affection, her love.

But lately, he found himself changing. He began to notice flavors in food, began to regret each time it ended so easily. He wrapped the nearly cold, damp bedding around himself, and in an instant, blood rushed to his neck and forehead. He could feel the veins at his temples and the side of his neck tensing.