Chapter 37: “It’s been a long time since I last served you…”

Xiao Rong’s sudden madness was abruptly halted by Si Jin’s kick.

He was always like this—appearing dominant, yet completely defenseless before Si Jin.

Whether she held back or lost control, she could easily push him away.

Though he would quickly cling to her again, it always gave the impression that he was easy to shake off.

But this time, Xiao Rong was truly kicked hard.

Caught off guard, his body suddenly lost balance. As he tumbled, a loud noise echoed. Instinctively, he reached out to grab the bed rail to avoid falling over completely, but he still ended up in a disheveled state.

He looked up at Si Jin, the earlier malice in his eyes now nowhere to be found.

Dazed, he resembled a dog that had done something wrong, unsure whether to wag its tail and beg for mercy or continue baring its teeth in defiance.

Si Jin glared at him. “You heard it but said nothing. You knew everything yet insisted on hiding it as if nothing happened, then secretly speculated about all sorts of things—right or wrong, none of them leaning toward anything positive.”

She wasn’t Xiao Rong; she couldn’t understand why he always thought this way.

But now she knew why his mind was so filled with dark thoughts.

Always dwelling on the worst—how could it not be dark?

Xiao Rong’s eyes were pitch-black, bottomless, making him seem at a disadvantage yet also giving the impression of pulling others into an abyss.

He spoke slowly, still stubbornly immersed in his own speculations: “You’re not the bird on the windowsill. If I open the cage, you’ll fly away without hesitation.”

Si Jin couldn’t help but recall his expression this morning when he stood by the window, watching Xiao Bai and uttering those words.

It seemed as if there was a hidden meaning, deliberately spoken for her to hear.

Yet it also felt as if he were seriously pondering the question, just without finding an answer.

Regardless, his earlier nonsensical words were still infuriating.

“What flying away or not? I don’t have wings on my back. I noticed you following me, and I saw the mud on your shoes earlier, and last night you… But why must I expose you? I didn’t want to say anything. I couldn’t be bothered with you. Is that not allowed?”

Xiao Rong’s expression shifted, the gloom dissipating, leaving only a trace of panic. “Xiao Jin, don’t ignore me.”

Si Jin lowered her gaze and saw her pinky finger hooked by his. Suddenly, she felt that once she understood, Xiao Rong’s twisted thoughts were not hard to decipher at all.

Her outing wasn’t an escape. He followed her stealthily, thinking it was intimidating, but in reality, he didn’t even dare to show himself.

She even speculated how panicked the hidden figure must have been the moment she glanced back toward the mountain path.

Before everything came to light, Xiao Rong had meticulously crafted this birdcage.

He could transform false beauty into a veil over her vision, tenderly caring for her so she couldn’t see whether the cage door was locked, making her addicted to the comfort of the cage and lose any desire to escape.

But once everything was fully revealed—the enclosed fence, the clearly visible lock right before her eyes—everything became starkly clear and within reach, making Si Jin, trapped inside the cage, nervously and fearfully thrash against it, instinctively wanting to break free from the confinement.

The more she struggled, the more uneasy Xiao Rong became.

Even though the cage door remained tightly locked, with no possibility of being pried open, he still felt too unsettled to sleep at night. His nerves were strained, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the cage at all times, and he constantly sought ways to make the prison even more secure.

Even though the little bird attempting to break free had grown weary, too tired to even dash against the bars anymore—even though from the start, she had only wanted to step outside the cage for a look, to see what kind of world lay beyond, and would have returned to the cage to rest peacefully by nightfall.

Yet he seemed unable to grasp even such a simple truth.

Or perhaps it wasn’t that he couldn’t understand, but that he instinctively believed such a thing was utterly impossible.

Si Jin watched him for a long moment, then expressionlessly averted her gaze.

Xiao Rong’s face immediately grew more panicked, as if he had suddenly realized he had again said something that displeased her.

But then Si Jin spoke abruptly: “That question you asked me this morning—do you want to hear my answer now?”

Xiao Rong, who had been about to rise, froze in place, his flustered expression lingering, unable to fade in time.

It might have taken him a moment to recall which question Si Jin was referring to, but the answer to that question undoubtedly carried another layer of meaning.

His gaze fixed intently on her, and after a brief stiffness, he still stood up.

Xiao Rong stood over her by the bed for only a moment before leaning down, as if to sit on the bed, yet he didn’t.

He lowered his head, drawing close to Si Jin’s neck, his downward gaze catching a faint, nearly vanished red mark at the nape of her neck, visible through her hair.

Had she discovered even this?

Xiao Rong’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and his voice grew even softer as he spoke: “If I learn it… will you come to like me then…?”

The latter half of his words faded to near inaudibility, as if afraid that speaking too loudly would cause his hope to be declared a failure before it could even be attempted.

The next day.

Xiao Rong had actually fallen ill.

Si Jin had broken a sweat climbing the mountain, caught a chill, and had strained herself until her back ached and her legs were sore.

But she had woken up refreshed and clear-headed. Her body, having been massaged and relaxed, retained only a slight discomfort, which didn’t hinder her in the least.

In contrast, the man who had followed her lay bedridden, burning with a high fever, his face deathly pale as if even breathing required effort.

“Cough… Xiao Jin, don’t stay here…” Xiao Rong’s voice was weak. After a fit of coughing he couldn’t suppress, he forced himself to finish speaking despite the discomfort.

Si Jin shot him a sidelong glance and ignored him.

Instead, she turned to the Estate Physician: “Doctor Liu, how is he?”

“Madam, the master has caught a chill. Illness strikes like a collapsing mountain—the symptoms aren’t severe, but his body has naturally weakened. For now, we must first administer medicine to reduce the fever. Once that is done, his spirits should gradually improve.”

Si Jin gave a slight nod, signaling the Estate Physician to go and prepare the prescription.

She turned and glanced at Xiao Rong again, unable to comprehend why he had suddenly fallen so ill when he had been perfectly fine.

Could it really be because he had followed her up the mountain yesterday? If so, his constitution was even weaker than hers.

Unable to make sense of it, Si Jin set the thought aside for the moment.

She stepped forward, intending to approach Xiao Rong, but he, lying on the bed, suddenly widened his eyes as if he would stop her by force even if he couldn’t get up.

“Xiao Jin, I told you not to come near, I… cough…”

“Stop talking.”

Si Jin picked up a nearby soft stool and sat down by the bed.

She dismissed the other servants in the room and waited until the door was closed before continuing to speak to Xiao Rong, “I will ask you questions, and you will answer by nodding or shaking your head. Can you do that?”

Xiao Rong parted his lips slightly, his dry mouth making the movement difficult. A moment later, his muddled thoughts caught up—Si Jin was telling him not to speak.

So he nodded.

“Did you come to my bedside last night after I fell asleep?”

Xiao Rong: “…”

He hadn’t expected her to start with such a question.

Xiao Rong lowered his gaze, his eyelashes trembling faintly as if he were deeply uncomfortable. The brief exchange had already become too difficult to continue.

Si Jin watched him quietly for a moment, until she saw his eyes close completely.

She abruptly stood up, about to walk away.

But a sudden heat on her wrist—the person who couldn’t even rise still had enough strength to pull her back.

Si Jin paused in surprise, feeling the abnormal body heat, and turned back to sit down again.

She took his hand gently and tucked it back under the quilt.

He was burning up so badly.

Just as she withdrew her hand from the sweltering bedding, she looked up and saw Xiao Rong give an almost imperceptible nod.

Si Jin: “…”

As she gazed at his face, a faint, elusive tingling crept up her spine, spreading upward without a clear destination, only to fade away before she could grasp its presence.

Had he wiped her clean with a cloth after licking her? Had she really slept through the night with his saliva on her?

At that moment, Xiao Rong’s lips moved slightly. His voice was too faint, or perhaps he made no sound at all, only forming the words with his mouth.

“Didn’t lick.”

Having been caught once, just one night later, he had restrained himself.

Besides, the bait dangled right before his eyes was undeniably tempting.

In Si Jin’s response to him yesterday, she hadn’t included allowing him to stand by her bedside in the middle of the night and do as he pleased.

If he held back for now, perhaps soon he would be able to return to her side to sleep.

Xiao Rong had genuinely thought so at the time. It was just that he lacked the strength to speak now, and Si Jin wouldn’t let him explain in detail.

Si Jin fell silent for a moment, her expression shifting subtly, then asked, “Did you take a cold bath?”

Xiao Rong: “…”

He nodded, then quickly shook his head.

Si Jin frowned, and he mouthed, “Washed my hands.”

Was it really just washing his hands?

“…Was there anything else?”

Only after asking did Si Jin remember she had told him not to speak—nodding or shaking his head couldn’t answer this question.

But then her fingertips grew warm. Glancing down, she saw Xiao Rong had stealthily slipped his hand out from under the quilt and hooked his fingers around hers. The heat quickly spread from her fingertips.

“Also dreamed of you.”

Si Jin: “…Oh.”

Once the first question was answered, she realized she shouldn’t have asked further.

As she turned her head away, her thoughts drifted—was it because Xiao Rong was too easy to read, or because she understood him better now? This brief exchange had allowed her to piece together exactly how he had caught his cold.

Her gaze shifted and met his dark, glistening eyes, made watery by his illness.

Xiao Rong’s pupils were slightly unfocused, his gaze hazy. His beautifully shaped lips were pale and bloodless, and his handsome face, tinged with sickness, gave him an unexpectedly fragile appearance.

Si Jin twisted her wrist, attempting to withdraw her hand from the “frail” man’s grasp, only for his grip to tighten abruptly—whether intentionally or instinctively, she couldn’t tell.

Then he relaxed his hold and released her, his voice soft and weak: “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Si Jin’s movement to retract her hand slowed slightly as she glanced at Xiao Rong from the corner of her eye.

She didn’t respond, merely rose and took a step forward.

“Cough, cough, cough…”

Si Jin halted her steps, sighing softly with her back turned to the bed.

Xiao Rong wasn’t easy to understand; his thoughts were truly peculiar, perhaps beyond what ordinary people could comprehend in a lifetime.

Yet she had to admit that after over half a year of living closely together, her heart and eyes had almost exclusively retained traces of him alone.

It was indeed hard not to understand him.

“Cough…”

Before the next cough could fully fade, Si Jin turned back, taking two or three quick steps to return to the bedside and sit down.

“Close your eyes, sleep, and don’t look at me.”

Xiao Rong’s pupils trembled slightly. He stared at her for a long moment before slowly closing his eyes.

After falling ill, Xiao Rong temporarily moved into Songlan Courtyard.

To accompany him, Si Jin went to Songlan Courtyard daily.

According to the initial diagnosis by the Estate Physician, Xiao Rong would be fine once his fever broke on the first day.

He wasn’t originally weak or sickly, and his body was clearly robust; a minor cold shouldn’t have dragged him down for long.

But just his luck, Xiao Rong remained ill, growing worse each day.

Unable to get up, needing company.

Weak and feeble, showing no improvement.

On the third day,

Si Jin finally stopped going to Songlan Courtyard.

By afternoon, news came that Xiao Rong was already well enough to leave his bed.

That night, Xiao Rong appeared at Qiu Shui Courtyard.

After her evening bath, Si Jin leaned against the bed reading a book.

It was one of those she had bought earlier from the North Suburb Bookstore. After much delay, she had only just started the first one today.

Si Jin read intently, soon immersed in the story.

Not far away, a figure moved about, footsteps pacing back and forth.

It seemed as though someone was trying hard to assert their presence but hesitating to make more noise.

This went on for quite some time.

The tranquility in the room was finally broken by Xiao Rong’s voice: “Xiao Jin.”

At his low call, Si Jin responded with a noncommittal “Hmm.”

Xiao Rong’s expression was likely grim, his voice deep as he spoke: “I’ve fully recovered.”

“Oh, congratulations.”

Xiao Rong fell silent for a moment before adding, “What do you think of my performance these past few days?”

Si Jin found the question amusing.

He had acted as if gravely ill—either lying in bed coughing incessantly or staring at her with a pale face.

As if he couldn’t care for himself, too sickly to be left alone.

What kind of performance was that?

If anything, her immense patience these days deserved praise.

Si Jin didn’t look up, flipping a page with her finger as a shadow flickered across the book.

He had already reached the bedside.

In the blink of an eye, the soft cushion by the bed dipped under pressure—Xiao Rong had knelt on one knee upon it.

Si Jin had no choice but to look up: “What are you doing?”

Xiao Rong frowned, clearly impatient from waiting so long.

But his dark eyes held a clear purpose as he pressed, restraining his breath: “Why aren’t you answering me?”

Xiao Rong’s towering figure forced Si Jin to tilt her head back slightly.

She looked at him but remained silent, her demeanor suggesting she’d talk about anything but his question.

As her gaze lingered, she noticed Xiao Rong’s expression growing increasingly somber.

This was the look he wore when dark thoughts gathered in his heart.

The next moment, he spoke: “You’ve discovered it—that I’ve been feigning illness these past few days.”

Si Jin furrowed her brows at his words.

Discovered? What exactly had she discovered?

She had initially thought he would play pitiful and speak soft words to gloss over his pretense of illness.

She hadn’t particularly minded the matter, merely wanting to observe his affected demeanor a while longer.

Who could have guessed he was about to spiral into madness!

Was he going to start spouting nonsense again to provoke her?

Si Jin parted her lips, ready to say something.

Suddenly, Xiao Rong lowered his gaze and reached out to grasp her ankle.

“You once said that serving someone isn’t a reward.”

Still preoccupied with his impending madness, Si Jin instinctively lifted her leg to kick him.

Her foot was immediately caught, and a sudden kiss landed on her bent knee.

Si Jin froze. Her knee felt both cool and warm—just a light kiss, yet it evoked an indescribable, peculiar sensation.

“I was wrong to feign illness and cling to you these past days. I’ve been reflecting on it.”

Si Jin finally heard the soft words she had anticipated from Xiao Rong.

Yet they sounded strange.

His lips, still near her knee, exhaled warm breath as he spoke.

Then he tilted his head to kiss the side of her leg, leaving it damper than before.

The next words sounded even more unsettling.

“Then I should punish myself by serving you, shouldn’t I?”

Si Jin snapped back to reality. Seeing the look in his eyes, she instantly understood.

With her leg trapped and unable to kick, she could only push against his shoulder.

“Not that kind of serving.”

But she seemed to have forgotten—unless she truly kicked him with force, breaking free from Xiao Rong’s entanglement was nearly impossible.

He had already closed in, his hands wandering.

“But since your legs don’t hurt today, I can only serve elsewhere.”

No sooner had he spoken than his touch found its mark.

It had been some time since their last intimate contact, and her body responded immediately to his touch.

Si Jin’s voice trembled. “That doesn’t hurt either.”

Xiao Rong’s eyes darkened, shadows swirling violently within them as he stared intently and continued, “Mm, I won’t hurt you.”

He leaned closer, his hands never ceasing.

His breath traveled from her knee to that sensitive spot—both skin, yet yielding entirely different sensations.

Si Jin shuddered again, instinctively protesting, “I don’t want…”

But her words were drowned out by other sounds, rendering her refusal useless.

Xiao Rong’s voice grew deeper and huskier. “It’s been so long since I last served you. Don’t you want it?”

He wasn’t listening to her at all.

Si Jin gasped sharply, soon losing the capacity for further speech.

Breaths mingled with swallowing sounds.

Si Jin couldn’t tell whether the candles burned exceptionally bright tonight or if Xiao Rong’s movements were too rough and urgent.

Every sensation felt excruciatingly vivid, impossible to ignore.

She saw his jet-black hair rubbing against her skin.

She watched his lowered eyelashes flutter and still.

Beads of sweat formed on the tip of his nose, trembling precariously.

His large hands gripping her legs tightened uncontrollably, leaving deep red marks indented into her porcelain skin.

Noticing the marks in his peripheral vision, he loosened his grip and pulled back, turning to kiss the traces he’d left.

Yet the kisses only multiplied the marks, while the place that should have been attended to remained neglected for quite some time.

Xiao Rong’s shoulder suddenly stung with a sharp pain.

Si Jin held onto him tightly, her nails digging in, her voice biting back at her lips—a mix of anger and grievance.

She seemed to hear Xiao Rong let out a soft chuckle.

Then he returned to his original position, harder and deeper.

Xiao Rong knew every sensitive spot of hers, and even more, he understood the different sensations each of her reactions brought.

Si Jin rose and fell, her face already flushed with heat.

In the final moment when the flickering light before her eyes trembled violently—

Xiao Rong suddenly straightened up, lifting her skirt with one hand, spilling everything onto her smooth, flawless abdomen.

Si Jin’s pupils abruptly constricted.

When had he started doing it himself… and with her together.

A muffled groan suppressed all her thoughts, the burning heat flowing unrestrained.

Suddenly, a warm breath nuzzled against her neck.

A pair of damp lips tried to draw closer but stopped just short, carrying a hint of appeasement, not daring to trespass further.

A moment later, that appeasing intent turned into a hoarse whisper in her ear.

Xiao Rong still smeared the dampness onto her neck, kissing her as he murmured, “Shen Xuzhi will arrive in the capital three days from now. I just received the news and came to tell you right away.”

“I haven’t kept anything from you.”