Tigers Sniff the Rose - Chapter 150

Chapter 150

In the garden amidst the autumn days, maple leaves hung high while hibiscus flowers floated upon the water, creating a scene of quietude and deep sentiment.

Mu Wanyao covered her cheek where she had been bitten, staring wide-eyed at Yan Shang.

She nudged against his chest, her tongue sharp as she snapped: "I hate you, I hate you to death!"

The actor: "...?"

Yan Shang chuckled.

Though her eyes were filled with anger toward him, this was the first time in several days she had seen him sitting in the autumn sunlight, right beside her couch. A strange, unusual ripple stirred in her heart.

Seeing him smile, Mu Wanyao recalled their current predicament and quietly retreated, not letting him hold her.

Yan Shang did not stop her. After telling her she smelled, his gaze flickered almost imperceptibly toward the actor kneeling on the ground, who had turned stiff with realization upon figuring out who this young man was.

Yan Shang leaned slightly toward Mu Wanyao, his voice clear and measured, just as it had always been: "What made you decide to come home today?"

Mu Wanyao lifted her chin slightly: "I returned to the mansion to get something. Do I need your permission for that?"

Yan Shang smiled: "That is not necessary."

He sounded very casual as he probed: "Were you listening to the opera?"

Mu Wanyao gave a perfunctory reply: "Mm."

Yan Shang continued: "Did you fall asleep while listening? Why were you sleeping outside? What if you catch a cold?"

Mu Wanyao thought to herself, why should I answer you?

She was fully awake now, and remembering that the issues between her and Yan Shang had yet to be resolved, she impatiently tugged at her quilt and pushed at him: "Why isn't Yan Er-lang working at the Imperial City today? Returning to the mansion before the sun has even set—this is truly a rarity."

Yan Shang’s eyes dimmed slightly. He pressed his lips together, staring at her for a long moment.

She had not answered his question.

After Mu Wanyao mocked him, she turned to look at him and felt that he seemed a bit strange today. He was usually this gentle, but recently, because of their quarrel, he had been humble and subservient, trying to beg her to move back to the mansion.

But Yan Shang’s expression now was far too calm.

Mu Wanyao suddenly noticed the actor kneeling on the ground. Just as her gaze was about to land on him, Yan Shang shifted his upper body, his shoulder perfectly blocking her view.

Yan Shang pushed her gently: "Go bathe. I will prepare the water for you."

Mu Wanyao: "Why should I bathe? I already told you I am still planning to go out. Zilin..."

Before she could finish her command to the kneeling actor, Yan Shang interrupted, his voice gentle: "Whatever you intend to do in a moment, or whether you are going out, you must bathe first."

He leaned in, turning his face slightly until he was almost touching her. He took her hand, his thumb moving calmly to lightly rub the back of her hand.

The young man’s breath was soft as he whispered in her ear: "I’ll boil lotus seed porridge for you. Don't be in such a hurry to leave, will you?"

Mu Wanyao felt a slight tickle on her earlobe as his lips brushed against it. It seemed as if he was biting her ear, then pulled away just as it turned red. Her hand was caught by his, held firmly in place.

Mu Wanyao’s heart felt numb and intoxicated. She looked at him with moist eyes, hesitating.

Yan Shang smiled at her, a smile that left her dazed. She loved this restrained and gentle side of him, like a murmuring stream. When he didn't laugh loudly but only smiled faintly, it made her want to push him down and bully him.

Mu Wanyao’s eyes flickered. Yan Shang, pleased that he still held such an attraction for her, saw the light in her eyes shimmer before she regained her composure, becoming cold and indifferent once more.

Mu Wanyao said carelessly: "I won't drink your things."

Yan Shang stared at her.

Mu Wanyao turned her head, laughing slyly at him: "What? Are you angry?"

Yan Shang held her hand, his thumb rubbing lightly against the back of it. She felt a wave of weakness from his touch and quickly shook his hand away.

Yan Shang looked down at her hand, no longer pressing the issue, but making a concession: "You go bathe first."

Mu Wanyao frowned.

She lowered her head and secretly sniffed her collar, wondering just how strong the smell of alcohol on her was for Yan Shang to emphasize the need for a bath over and over again.

She had only had a couple cups of wine, and that actor’s singing had been too hypnotic, causing her to doze off on the couch for a little while... was that really enough to make Yan Shang insist on her bathing?

—

The actor knelt on the ground, his heart beating with trepidation.

He watched the handsome consort, who even men praised for his refined demeanor, coax the tipsy Princess into rising. Yan Shang supported Mu Wanyao’s hand, pushing her as she swayed unsteadily away.

Mu Wanyao resisted Yan Shang’s touch, so he let go and let a maid assist her away. But regardless, the actor could see that there was affection between the Princess and her consort.

Once Yan Shang coaxed Mu Wanyao away and turned back to look at the actor, the boy turned pale with fear.

He struggled: "Consort, Consort, you cannot kill me... I was brought back by Her Highness, she praised my looks..."

Yan Shang’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He had intended to have this actor taken away and deal with him after Mu Wanyao turned back, but he suddenly changed his mind, his voice sounding strange: "She really praised your looks?"

The actor, fearing the consort wouldn't believe him, hurriedly swore on his life: "It’s true! The first time I saw Her Highness, she said I was handsome, delicate as a young lady. She even praised my small frame, saying I looked beautiful whether I wore makeup or not."

Yan Shang stared at the actor, his gaze sweeping over the boy’s features inch by inch.

A heavy weight pressed down on his chest. Originally, he had only felt that the actor had improper thoughts, but now, Yan Shang’s suspicions deepened.

He felt almost hateful toward Mu Wanyao.

And he felt a flicker of anger he couldn't suppress.

Yan Shang sat down, pulling his robes, and said gently to the actor: "Tell me exactly how you came to know the Princess."

—

The actor was panicked; he feared death, but he also feared the consort’s jealousy would get him kicked out.

The Princess was so high and mighty, and she was not lacking for company. If he were cast out by Her Highness, what opera troupe would dare take him in?

The actor was only a boy of fourteen or fifteen. Even though Yan Shang’s attitude was gentle, he was frightened to tears.

It was rare for Yan Shang to feel so agitated and short-tempered with someone.

He looked at the boy with cold eyes, not wanting to offer a single word of comfort. Only when the boy had finished crying did Yan Shang suppress his anger and speak as gently as he could: "Stop crying. Just tell me properly."

On the other side, Mu Wanyao walked through the corridor with Qiu Si supporting her. A cool breeze blew, and the further she walked, the more something felt off.

She asked Qiu Si: "Just now, when I was asleep, Yan Shang came over, didn't he? Did he see anything?"

Qiu Si bowed her head: "The Consort stood at the courtyard gate, and this servant stood behind him. I do not know if the Consort saw, but this servant saw the actor Her Highness brought back take advantage of the fact that you were asleep to secretly take your hand and kiss it."

Mu Wanyao’s eyebrows shot up.

She looked down at the back of her hand—her soft, white, delicate skin had almost been scrubbed red by Yan Shang.

At first, she felt disgusted that her hand had been stolen-kissed by an actor, but then she thought of Yan Shang’s strange reaction... Mu Wanyao let out a scoff, and immediately felt at ease.

So, the man was jealous.

How rare, how rare indeed.

He was usually as stoic and desireless as a saint; it turned out he could get jealous, too.

Mu Wanyao muttered: "At least he’s still a living, breathing man."

Qiu Si worried: "The Consort must have misunderstood..."

Mu Wanyao’s lips curled into a smile, and she said leisurely: "Leave him be."

—

Mu Wanyao went to the bathing chamber.

The bathhouse was connected to the sleeping quarters and had been recently renovated. Mu Wanyao had ordered a stone pool to be excavated, leading in water from a nearby natural hot spring in the mountains. Soaking in it every day was good for the circulation, and it did wonders for the skin—she couldn't imagine a better life.

Mu Wanyao had always known how to enjoy herself, and this pool captured her heart; whenever she was at the Princess’s mansion, she would enjoy it daily.

She had originally wanted Yan Shang to enjoy it too, to soak in the hot spring and nourish his body. However, the first time Yan Shang saw the grand pool she had created in the bathhouse, he had flushed deep red and refused to step inside no matter what.

Mu Wanyao had scolded him for having thin skin, saying he couldn't even relax in his own home.

Now, having been away from the mansion for a month and returning to enjoy her bath, Mu Wanyao leaned against the side of the pool, letting the water cascade over her arms, and sighed in comfort.

Mist swirled and steamed. The beautiful woman sat in the hot spring, her black hair like silk, cascading over her snow-white shoulders. Her peaks were like snowy mountains with rosy tips, full and majestic—a beauty beyond compare.

Mu Wanyao looked at her own skin and found herself intoxicated by it.

A man’s voice rang out abruptly: "Are you admiring your own beauty, singing praises to yourself?"

Mu Wanyao was startled, but she didn't move from where she leaned against the pool wall, only turning her head to follow the voice. As the mist dispersed, she saw Yan Shang, adorned in fine brocade and a jade belt, crouching by the edge of the pool, looking down at her.

His eyes were as deep and quiet as the middle of the night. His wide, flowing sleeves draped naturally, dipping into the milky-white water. He didn't seem to care that his robes were soaking through; he simply crouched there, watching her.

Mu Wanyao glared at him: "You’re truly a phantom, aren't you? Not a sound. You scared me to death."

Yan Shang raised a brow slightly.

He lowered his long lashes and said gently: "Scared you to death? How did I scare you to death? The whole mansion is yours; only servants come and go, and only maids can enter your sleeping quarters. The only man here should be me.

"How could you be frightened? Is it possible that I frighten you? Or perhaps... you were expecting some other man to appear?"

Mu Wanyao’s eyes curved.

She instantly understood what he was probing for.

She looked at him with a half-smile: "How would I know? Haven't I been away for a long time? Isn't this place occupied only by you? Don't you know better than I do whether there are other men in the mansion?"

She was incredibly relaxed, leaning slightly forward. The water rose and fell, and the traces of her fair skin were visible, wavering in and out of sight.

Yan Shang’s eyes locked onto her. Mu Wanyao’s cheeks were flushed red from the heat, and her gaze, flickering back and forth, was all the more cunning and seductive.

Droplets rolled down her lashes like rain, sticking to the long hair plastered against her cheeks, and then were captured along with the hair into her slightly parted red lips.

She was a born temptress.

Yan Shang stood up and walked gracefully toward the pool. He did not take off his robes; the wide, flowing sleeves were completely submerged. The water rose, clinging to his legs and waist.

Mu Wanyao raised an eyebrow: "Wow."

She admired him as he entered the water, and he swam until he reached her. Yan Shang said nothing, bending down to embrace her as she was, slippery as an eel.

She had been smiling, but seeing the look in his eyes, she reached out and covered his mouth just as his lips were about to touch hers.

He bit down on her palm.

Mu Wanyao let out a cry of pain.

She flew into a rage: "Are you a dog? You’ve bitten me twice in one day! Do you really think I won't get angry?"

Yan Shang lowered his eyes.

He didn't answer but asked instead: "Why did you praise an actor for being handsome?"

Mu Wanyao glanced at him.

She laughed: "So you went out and asked around, did you? Can’t it be that he is simply handsome?"

Yan Shang: "Is he better looking than me?"

Mu Wanyao tilted her head back to look at him: "Are you very handsome? How would I know? Wei Shu is better looking than you, did you know that?"

Yan Shang froze. He wondered why on earth she had to drag Wei Shu into this.

She hugged his waist, closed her eyes, and said deliberately: "You’re old."

Yan Shang leaned in close, pressing against her, and whispered: "I am not old. I am still half a year younger than you, Yaoyao-jiejie. If I am old, Yaoyao-jiejie is even older. You will always be half a year older than me."

Mu Wanyao’s waist was held by him, pressed tightly against his chest.

Held by him, with the heat steaming between them and the water swirling around their bodies, his face brushed against hers. She felt her heart stirred and her mind wandering.

She loved his young body, his beautiful face, his narrow waist, his jade-like temperament. After a month of cold war, with him leaning in like this, she truly felt a little... hungry.

Until he spoiled the mood.

He never called her "Jiejie" when they were doing fine, but now he had to.

Mu Wanyao gritted her teeth: "There are still people who pursue me and love me! I am beautiful, I have power and influence, I don't need you to worry about me!"

Yan Shang grabbed her hand: "Is there really no one who pursues me?"

Mu Wanyao’s smile vanished instantly, and she looked at him coldly.

Yan Shang softened his tone: "We agreed, I have only you, and you have only me. You cannot be with anyone else, and that includes actors.

"I know princesses are open in their ways. But you cannot be. You provoked me, so you cannot abandon me; you cannot go back on your word."

Mu Wanyao’s eyes narrowed, her tone filled with sarcasm: "Who is more fickle than you? You couldn't even manage to get a single day of leave in a whole month, and you still have the nerve to demand things of me?"

Standing in the water, Yan Shang looked at her earnestly: "If I manage to get leave, will you cut off all those messy relationships of yours?"

Mu Wanyao immediately glared: "Are we talking about the same thing? I am doing this for your own good, what is your purpose?"

Yan Shang: "Why won't you explain that you don't have those messy relationships?"

Mu Wanyao: "If you believed I was that kind of person, you would be the biggest fool in the world, the easiest person to deceive. You can't be tricked in court matters, Yan Er-lang, so why would you believe these petty rumors?"

Mu Wanyao blinked: "And Pei Qing, do you remember him?"

Yan Shang’s jaw tightened: Pei Qing!

Mu Wanyao teased him slowly: "Didn't you personally send Pei Qing to my side back then? How could you do it then, but now you can’t stand a few rumors?"

Mentioning Pei Qing now made Yan Shang feel incredibly awkward.

He said: "It’s not that I believe the rumors; it’s that I can no longer judge what is true."

Mu Wanyao was momentarily stunned.

Yan Shang took hold of her hand. His robes under his waist were completely soaked, clinging to him so uncomfortably. Mu Wanyao had no patience for this nonsense, but he refused to let her go.

Yan Shang whispered: "Yaoyao, I am the biggest fool in the world. I really cannot tell... I can't understand why you would want an actor, or why you would praise him for being handsome.

"Why don't you praise me? Why don't you look at me? I think I am better than an actor, better than Pei Qing, better than Wei Shu, better than Yang Si. What do you think?"

Mu Wanyao twisted and splashed water, huffing: "I can't be bothered with you!"

Yan Shang hugged her waist: "Don't go, you must be bothered with me!"

Mu Wanyao was lifted by him and forced to look up into his dark eyes, where a plea seemed to linger.

Her heart stirred. She twisted her lips, turning her head away, not wanting to discuss this with him: "You are a fool!"

He held her hand: "I am not a fool!"

Yan Shang was uncharacteristically stubborn: "I am more educated than an actor, I have a better temper than an actor, I am better looking than him, and I am taller than him. I have known you longer than he has, I am a Fifth-Rank official in the imperial court, holding authority equal to a Chancellor, and he is just an actor.

"I am better than Pei Qing, Wei Shu, and Yang Si, and I treat you better! You married me because I am good."

As he went on comparing, Mu Wanyao, though wanting to keep a straight face, found her heart moved by his adorableness.

However, ahem, she had to restrain herself. To manage Yan Shang, she could not be soft-hearted.

Mu Wanyao suppressed a laugh, her eyes shimmering as she said: "I didn't marry you because you were good; I married you because you were easy to bully."

Yan Shang paused for a moment and said: "That still means I am good."

Mu Wanyao blinked: "Whatever you say."

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he whispered: "Yaoyao, I’m sorry."

Mu Wanyao was puzzled as to why he was suddenly apologizing, when she was suddenly lifted by him, still wearing her dripping wet clothes. Pressed against him, her legs went weak and she began to slide downward, only to be caught by Yan Shang.

He gripped her slender ankles and hooked them around his waist.

Mu Wanyao almost fell backward, knocked breathless.

She coughed in fright and hit his shoulder: "What are you doing?! You’re crazy, you’re crazy!"

He paid no mind, lowering his head to gather her beneath his neck, his lips covering hers.

His sudden assertiveness made Mu Wanyao resist; she whimpered and refused, hitting him in anger. She bit him as he kissed her, filling his mouth with the taste of blood, yet he would not let go.

He held her as she sat on the edge of the pool. Mu Wanyao was choked by his saliva until her eyes were red, and she looked back at him with hateful, resentful eyes. He simply removed his belt; his robes remained soaked in the water like spilled ink. He supported her delicate body upward with his palms, but the back of his hand was slapped by Mu Wanyao.

Mu Wanyao: "No! I’m still angry with you!"

Yan Shang’s temper flared: "I want to."

Mu Wanyao arched her neck, feeling both stirred by passion and secretly infuriated. Her rosy cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and affection—she sounded more like she was acting spoiled than truly angry: "You are forcing me..."

Yan Shang said: "Then hit me."

He added: "I just want this. It has been such a long, long time since we..."

Mu Wanyao leaned against his shoulder. She truly meant to hit him, but as her toes grazed his waist, the wet, overwhelming sensation washed over her, and she was submerged as if drowning.

Her hair was like ink; her skin was better than jade.

His long lashes brushed against her face, teasing her heart like a feather.

Her eyes were burning red, shimmering with water.

It was broad daylight, a chaotic and confusing ledger of emotions.

She was so angry at Yan Shang; how dare he force her against her will? In what way was this Yan Shang, who forced her, any different from the loathsome men of the world?

She should refuse him harshly, curse him cruelly.

But Mu Wanyao only cursed him at first; later, she didn't curse at all.

Passion was like a tide, desire like a surging wave. Facing this, who could stay pure, who could remain unmoved?

—

The bathhouse was left in disarray, water from the pool splashing onto the floor outside.

The water wound its way, flowing all the way to the sleeping quarters. Stepping on the wet wooden floor, the sound of wooden clogs pappa echoed, the puddles on the ground reflecting the scorching sun outside the window.

The light danced upon the water.

Mu Wanyao was wrapped in a quilt, lying on the bed in the sleeping chamber.

A soft, rosy light glowed on the woman’s cheeks, her fair shoulders rising and falling slightly. Her dark, ink-like hair was spread across the bed, her eyes closed, and her entire body radiated a lazy, satisfied allure.

Fed and satisfied, she was no longer angry, nor was she spitting sarcastic remarks.

She felt comfortable in every fiber of her being.

She couldn't help but think that the saying "quarrels before bed are resolved by morning" was actually quite true.

And a man who was always gentle occasionally being assertive—Mu Wanyao admitted to herself how shallow she was. She actually liked this assertiveness from Yan Shang. Love needed this kind of passion, didn't it?

She didn't feel at all that she lacked steadfastness; if she felt nothing when looking at Yan Shang’s body, then this marriage would truly be pointless.

Mu Wanyao looked at the young man, who was once again refined and elegant after getting off the bed.

It was as if the man who had just gone mad had never been him.

Yan Shang sat on the edge of the bed, lowering his head to dress, his brows furrowed slightly. He was a gentleman like a breeze and the moon, and his natural air of high-minded elegance had nothing to do with whether he wore clothes or not.

Yan Shang had only put on his white undergarments when Mu Wanyao hugged him from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist and letting her hands slip inside. Yan Shang’s face flushed red, but he didn't stop her, letting her fingers tease him.

He loved her little provocations.

Mu Wanyao teased him, her voice slightly hoarse: "How was it?"

Light and shadow shifted, shining on the young man’s jade-like face. Yan Shang was very reserved: "How was what?"

Mu Wanyao leaned on his shoulder, her jade fingers sliding across his cheek: "Can you believe I don't have any other men now? All those rumors outside, making our little Yan Er lose his confidence."

Yan Shang blushed and hesitated for a long time before saying: "Is it bad for me to be like this?"

Mu Wanyao let out a "tsk."

She said: "That’s boring. Why do you always reflect on yourself afterward? Just enjoy it. You haven't been this comfortable for a long time, right?"

Her fingers hooked under his robe, rubbing and kneading.

Yan Shang couldn't help but laugh.

He whispered: "I will go ask for leave from my superior today and come back to rest."

Mu Wanyao raised the corner of her eye.

With clouds of rouge upon her cheeks, she turned her face to kiss him, joking: "You must go. I sacrificed my own skin; how can you not reward me?"

Yan Shang smiled, but said: "This is not a reward. I know you are doing it for my own good; I just... I just..."

Mu Wanyao: "You just like being busy, you like worrying. You never feel tired; as long as you can do something, as long as you can help people, you are in a good mood, and you feel you are worth something.

"Little Yan Er, don't you think you like sacrificing yourself for others too much? Is your life someone else’s? Are you meant to give yourself up entirely for others? This world is not yours, and you are not a god."

Mu Wanyao gazed at him: "Don't always give for others, don't always sacrifice yourself. Think more about yourself."

Yan Shang was bewildered.

He pressed his lips together: "I know... but if I am not busy with these things, what should I do? I don't have anything I like, Yaoyao.

"Doing these things means being needed. I am skilled at doing them, too. But if I don't do these things, what can I do? If I were with you all day long, you would find me boring, wouldn't you?"

He lowered his eyes: "I cannot play the zither, I cannot truly appreciate an ancient artifact, and I cannot tell the noble from the base in tea. I cannot paint, and I know nothing of musical rhythm.

"I..."

Mu Wanyao said indifferently: "I like it."

Yan Shang turned his head.

Mu Wanyao turned her face, watching him with curved eyes, seemingly enchanting him and seemingly casual—

"I only want to play with you. It’s not the first day you’ve been like this; what are you always panicking about when you face me? Why do you always want to be a perfect person? A perfect son, a perfect brother, a perfect official, a perfect lover... and you also want to be a perfect husband.

"But Brother Yan Er, actually, I didn't marry you because of your ethereal excellence. You just feel that you must be worthy of me. You want your talent to match mine, your temperament to align with mine, and you want to fashion yourself into something custom-made for me... I have said it many times: I like the way you are right now." You don't have to be so tired. If marrying me is so exhausting, I would rather you didn't marry me."

She hooked her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead against his, her voice filled with a trace of enchantment: "Brother, you said I married you because you treated me well. But you married me because you couldn't live without me, too."

Mu Wanyao covered her cheek, looking at him with deep affection: "Brother Yan Er, in front of me, you don't have to be excellent.

"I do not love you because of your excellence.

"I love you because you are Yan Shang."

Yan Shang was silent for a long time and said: "...Are you seducing me?"

Mu Wanyao: "..."

She acted as if she hadn't heard Yan Shang’s sharp judgment.

She lifted her chin, proud and confident: "I just want you to relax and be happy. I especially, especially... want to see you at ease. I want to see you leaning against me unconsciously when you sleep, I want to see you calling my name in a muddle when you are sick. I am very happy when you get angry at me, and I like it when you speak loudly to me... because only then do you seem to have a temper.

"Do you know what look you have when you watch me?"

Yan Shang stared at her, his face flushed, his hand stroking her fragrant, soft cheeks.

Thin light caught his profile. After he relaxed, his eyes and brows held a smile as he feigned ignorance: "What look?"

Mu Wanyao: "You push me away, telling me not to touch you, but your eyes beg me not to leave, and your hands grab me, begging me to touch you."

Yan Shang was stirred into a laugh: "Talking nonsense again."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, whispering: "Yaoyao, can I really be a not-excellent me?"

Mu Wanyao was firm: "You can."

Yan Shang: "I have never been relaxed..."

Mu Wanyao: "Try it. This time, really, seriously try it."

Yan Shang: "Okay, I will try... don't you despise me."

Mu Wanyao opened her arms to hug him, happily: "It’s okay, Brother Yan Er. Just follow me; I am the best at relaxing, the best at being lazy, and the best at playing. It doesn't matter if you are clumsy; I like the way you look when you are clumsy."

Yan Shang smiled.

He said: "Okay, then I will go ask for leave in a while. Hmm, I will ask for... five days, is that okay?"

Mu Wanyao had wanted to say five days was too little, but thinking that this was the first time Yan Shang—who loved government work and hated leaving his desk—had proposed it himself, she should encourage him.

Mu Wanyao hurriedly nodded to say yes.

Yan Shang smiled quite happily.

It was just that Mu Wanyao hesitated for a moment and muttered: "Better go ask for leave tomorrow."

Yan Shang was puzzled: "Why is that?"

Mu Wanyao did not speak, but hooked her hand around his waist. His body stiffened, and she lifted her damp eyes, looking at him with a smile.

She was radiant, her smile causing one’s soul to flutter and bones to melt.

Yan Shang’s slender fingers gripped the bed frame, his lashes trembling as he turned his face away.

Mu Wanyao: "It was too comfortable just now; I want more. Can you still fight?"

Yan Shang: "In broad daylight..."

Mu Wanyao let out a huff, teasing him: "In broad daylight, just now I asked you to stop, and you didn't. Now listen to me; I want Little Yan Er, I like Little Yan Er."

Yan Shang couldn't say a word.

She opened a pair of innocent, cat-like eyes, and then reached out to push him, pressing him down to lie back.

She hadn't forced him down like this in a long time, and for a moment, she became exceptionally excited. Yan Shang was helpless and had to follow her strength as he lay back, though he grabbed her hands and pleaded with a trembling voice for her not to overdo it.

The afternoon light was warm, the room filled with fragrance.

The shadows of the sun slanted westward; the water on the floor tiles dried, and soon became wet again.

Puddle after puddle of water, like a swamp after the rain—clear, moist, and bright. The years were just right.