Tigers Sniff the Rose - Chapter 98

Chapter 98

Traveling through the rain-slicked night, they shared the same carriage.

The shifting shadows of the lanterns outside the carriage canopy flickered in and out, spilling into the cabin.

Mu Wanyao leaned against the carriage wall, eyes closed, ignoring Yan Shang completely. When she had boarded, he had tucked a blanket over her legs; now, he sat with his head bowed, fiddling with the incense spices in the small burner on the low table. It was only after he found absolutely nothing left to busy himself with that he finally turned his gaze toward her.

The fact that Mu Wanyao had paid him no mind since getting in left him feeling slightly dejected. He had expected that since he had come to pick her up, she would at least have a few playful words for him, or perhaps try to tease him.

However, watching her sit there with her eyes closed, he felt a wave of pity, thinking perhaps she was exhausted after her confrontation with the Prince of Jin. It wouldn't do to disturb her. Besides, seeing Mu Wanyao so quiet and well-behaved was a rare sight. Whenever she leaned in with her eyes wide open, he had to summon all his mental resolve to handle her. When she closed her eyes and played the part of the obedient girl, Yan Shang’s mind felt far less muddled.

He rested his elbows on the table, staring at her intently. As the light from outside fell upon her in waves, he couldn't help but study her secretly; the longer he looked, the softer his eyes became, and the more his heart swelled with affection.

And his way of showing affection was just to watch her quietly, a faint smile on his lips, never once reaching out to provoke her.

Suddenly, Mu Wanyao spoke up: "What are you looking at?"of 99999oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yan Shang was startled.

His eyelashes fluttered violently as he saw Mu Wanyao—who had been sitting opposite him—open her eyes and look his way. Her lips curved into a mischievous, mocking smile, and it was precisely this ambiguous expression that turned Yan Shang’s mind into mush once more.

He lowered his head, trying to remain as calm as possible: "Nothing."

Mu Wanyao: "I don't believe you."

Yan Shang: "Really... cough, I was just thinking about something."

Mu Wanyao’s eyebrows arched playfully. Composed, she rested her chin on her hand and leaned forward, propping herself against the low table as well. The table had a hidden mechanism underneath that allowed it to rotate. As she leaned in, her face was but an inch from Yan Shang’s, their breaths mingling in the tight space.

Yan Shang sat straight, trying to remain composed, which only earned him a raised-brow smirk from Mu Wanyao. His face felt hot, but he pretended not to notice her teasing at his thin-skinned nature, biting the bullet to find an excuse: "I was thinking about writing poetry."

Mu Wanyao was momentarily stunned: "Writing poetry? What about it?"

With Yan Shang having said it, he realized he could truly take advantage of this rare opportunity to ask Mu Wanyao for advice. He had been visiting Beili many times to teach Chunniang how to write and compose poetry, but as her progress slowly accelerated, his own meager talent for verse was beginning to run dry.

Yan Shang frowned: "In official circles and during banquets, one is always expected to compose poetry for amusement. Your Highness, do you also compose poetry when you host officials at banquets?"

Mu Wanyao: "Of course. What’s difficult about that? I can just toss them out off the cuff."

Yan Shang: "..."

Why was he unable to just toss them out off the cuff?

Why did he have to prepare in advance every single time?

Yan Shang felt a sliver of frustration and fell silent. A moment later, he felt someone kick his knee. He looked down and saw, beneath the dimly lit table, a slender, delicate, and fair jade foot pressing against his knee, rubbing gently.

Her pearl-embellished shoes had been kicked off under her skirts.

Seeing her foot, his face flared a deep red. He wanted to pull his knee away, but the moment he moved, she pressed her leg between his. In an instant, blood rushed downward; Yan Shang’s face was no longer just flushed—it was hot enough to boil.

Heavens.

To think it could be like this... Yan Shang thought muddle-headedly, feeling a mix of agony and excitement.

His entire body trembled as he leaned back against the wall, looking at her. She, however, remained all smiles, as if she were completely oblivious to what she was doing.

Mu Wanyao pressed her toes down, watching as he tilted his head back, gasping, his hands gripping the edge of the table. She looked down to see the veins on the back of his hand bulging and taut. She smiled subtly and asked with great seriousness: "What's the matter? Can't you write poetry?"

It took a long while before Yan Shang, his voice trembling and hoarse, replied: "I... I..."

Mu Wanyao pressed down harder with her toes, and he let out a stifled groan, collapsing onto the table. His shoulders shook for a moment, and he looked up at her, his eyes pitch-black and the corners rimmed with red. He reached out as if to grab her, whispering in a pained, struggling voice: "Yaoyao..."

There was a hint of pleading in it.

Mu Wanyao shifted her body to the side, not letting him touch her hand. She remained perfectly serious: "I’m asking you a question. Why are you spacing out? I’m here, earnestly concerned about whether you can write good poetry or not, and all you can think about are these sleazy thoughts. Big Brother Yan, you’ve changed."

Yan Shang managed a bitter smile.

He endured it for a while, and once she stopped her mischief, he clutched his racing heart and replied in a raspy voice: "Do you think my talent is very poor? I see you don't even read that many books, yet every time you write a poem, it’s excellent. But every time I prepare in advance, when it comes time to use it, it’s nothing but mediocre work."

Mu Wanyao feigned surprise: "Oh? I thought you were deliberately being mediocre? I know you love to blend into the crowd, never wanting to be noticed."

Yan Shang’s voice sounded a bit strained, no longer as measured as when he usually spoke: "I would need the actual ability to pretend to be mediocre, wouldn't I? I am mediocre by nature... Your Highness, where did I go wrong? Why can't I write good poetry?"

Mu Wanyao studied him. His eyelashes were slightly damp, his shoulders trembled due to his mounting desire, and he repeatedly tried to reach out only to restrain himself. Yet, at the same time, he was answering her question earnestly.

Clearly, being bad at poetry was a massive blow to Yan Shang. He had likely thought at first that he just hadn't read enough, but now that he read every day and had received instruction from teachers and studied countless masterpieces, he still couldn't write well.

A man with such high standards for himself would naturally begin to wonder if something was fundamentally wrong with him.

He just wanted to be a perfect person.

Mu Wanyao stopped joking and answered him seriously: "The reason you can't write good poetry isn't because you read too little, nor is it because you aren't focused or dedicated enough. You are dedicated enough... Big Brother Yan, it is impossible for you to write good poetry, so you should stop hoping for it."

Yan Shang pursed his lips, slightly unwilling to accept this: "Why are you so certain I can't?"

Mu Wanyao said slowly: "Writing poetry is nothing more than three factors: one, having tumultuous life experiences and writing from the heart; two, having a bold imagination and wandering into the surreal; three, having a sensitive heart that weeps at falling flowers. Look at yourself—which one do you fit? Is your life experience so complex that you have plenty to lament, are you sensitive enough to be moved by the changing seasons, or do you have any bold imagination to express through verse?"

She stared at him: "You have none of these."

Mu Wanyao’s lips curved: "As for life experience, after a few years, maybe you’ll be able to write one poem truly worthy of being passed down. As for being moved by the seasons, I don't see you doing that in this lifetime, so don't count on it. And when it comes to imagination, not to be harsh, Big Brother Yan, but given your impoverished imagination, you should just give up on that idea."

"You walk a pragmatic path, not the path of bold, soaring imagination. Your imagination is simply inadequate."

Yan Shang paused for a long time, then said: "My imagination isn't that bad, is it?"

Mu Wanyao thought to herself that a man who had absolutely no imagination regarding matters in bed actually believed he wasn't bad.

She said nothing, instead retracting her jade foot, leaving Yan Shang’s knee exposed.

As the pressure vanished, so did the joy. His eyes were still red-rimmed, his gaze blank as he looked at her, feeling a sense of loss. He watched as she turned her shoulder, opening the small window beside her, allowing some of the rain to spray inside.

The stifling, heated atmosphere in the carriage was cooled by the freshness of the rain. Yan Shang closed his eyes, slumped against the table, and took a light breath.

Mu Wanyao tapped the window frame with her knuckles. Yan Shang looked up, and seeing her gesture toward the rain outside, she asked: "What would you compare the rain to?"

Yan Shang, flustered and forcing himself to answer, said: "Like... like a curtain?"

Mu Wanyao sneered: "That’s just what predecessors have compared it to, so you just repeat it. You don't have your own thoughts at all."

Yan Shang looked at her blankly: "Then how would you compare it?"

Mu Wanyao: "Hmm... like flying, like the Milky Way scattering stars, like going against the current to steal the sky, like... Big Brother Yan’s strands of hair."

Yan Shang was stunned. Mu Wanyao winked at him. She reached under the table, twisted the mechanism, and the low table swung to the side. Yan Shang had to sit up straight, no longer leaning on the table. He felt embarrassed, for once he sat upright, the reaction of his body could no longer be hidden...

He looked down uncomfortably, then glanced anxiously at Mu Wanyao. Yet Mu Wanyao seemed not to notice; she pushed the table aside and bent her waist to come over to his side.

Yan Shang moved to the side to make room for her, but she pressed on his shoulders and knelt on his lap. He shuddered; she hadn't knelt properly and slid down from his legs.

Mu Wanyao said with dissatisfaction: "Big Brother Yan, help me!"

Yan Shang sighed, reaching out to wrap his arms around her slender waist to help her kneel in his arms, allowing her to be much taller than him in her kneeling position. She cupped his face and lowered her head, forcing him to look up.

Mu Wanyao’s fingers were warm and soft, stroking his face.

Her slender, fair fingers brushed over his brows, eyes, nose, and lips: "Brother’s eyebrows are like flowing spring light, lingering and winding into my heart; Brother’s eyes are like a clear lake under the moonlight, making me happy just to gaze into them; Brother’s nose is like an autumn blade, killing me without a blink; Brother’s mouth is soft, like fruit pulp, making me want to kiss it."

Yan Shang looked up at her, stunned.

The golden light from outside fell into his eyes, reflecting a tiny version of her within the galaxy of his gaze.

His arms tightened around her waist. Mu Wanyao saw his throat bob, and a flush spread beneath his pale skin. He leaned in to kiss her, but Mu Wanyao pressed a finger to his lips.

Mu Wanyao tilted her head, watching him with a charming, coquettish smile: "Was my comparison good?"

Yan Shang: "Yes."

Mu Wanyao said, dissatisfied: "You’re being so perfunctory."

Yan Shang no longer knew what to say; his chest felt tight. He pushed aside her slender fingers, desperate to tilt his head and kiss her. She laughed and refused, hiding backward, but he braced her waist, leaving her nowhere to hide. Yan Shang’s lips landed on her neck, making her tremble slightly.

Mu Wanyao looked down at his somewhat bewildered expression.

Mu Wanyao said shyly: "You can keep going down."

Yan Shang looked up at her, his gaze misty, his eyelashes curling like wings.

Mu Wanyao raised her hand to touch her own brow, saying: "Meng Zaishi kissed me right here today."

Yan Shang’s expression stiffened, and he grabbed her hand. Mu Wanyao glared at him: "You can kiss from here, all the way to my heart. It’s all yours."

Under normal circumstances, he would have hesitated, but having been provoked by her just moments ago, he was already quite uncomfortable. Moreover, her sudden mention of Meng Zaishi deepened the unpleasant feeling from earlier that morning. And with her finger pointing to her brow, the beautiful, beloved girl kneeling in his arms—Yan Shang could not resist.

He pulled her neck down and kissed her brow. Holding her small, soft body—which felt like a kitten in his arms—Yan Shang kissed her eyebrows, her eyes, densely and closely, descending like rain.

He became somewhat agitated, and his touch lost its restraint. His fingers trembled on her waist, and his breath landed on her neck once more, brushing and rubbing slightly uncomfortably.

Mu Wanyao looked down, her hand resting on her collar, pulling the silk apart like flowing water.

High above, the moonlight shone clear; the white, snowy skin was radiant and breathtaking. What could the mountaineer do other than worship with piety?

She closed her eyes and covered her heart, whispering: "Kiss here."

Yan Shang lowered his head, pressing his forehead against her heart: "Yaoyao..."

Mu Wanyao: "Hmm?"

Yan Shang: "I, I..."

His breath was ragged, his voice chaotic. He was in a completely muddled state, his eyes overly bright; the heat and dryness were familiar, and he knew clearly what this feeling was. He was just embarrassed, ashamed. He just felt that they were in a carriage, and they would be back soon...

Yet he was humble and pathetic: "I’m so uncomfortable..."

Mu Wanyao fought back a laugh: "Don't hold it in, it’s not like I’m unwilling."

Yan Shang: "But, but..."

He couldn't finish his "buts," and compared to his hesitation, his woman was always bolder and more open than him. She untied his sash, retreated, and landed, this time sitting on his lap. She lowered her head to tease, and he both wanted to stop her and didn't. He tensed his body, terrified and excited.

He was always like this, pulled down that line again and again by her. He was a complete blank slate; he often felt that this was wrong or that was improper, but he couldn't put into words why it was wrong. If he brought up the quotes of the sages, Mu Wanyao wouldn't listen and would complain that he was long-winded.

Yan Shang stooped, resting his chin on her shoulder, and sighed heavily. It was as if he were being burned on a fire. His grip on her waist was incredibly tight; Mu Wanyao felt a bit of pain, but she endured it, afraid to speak. She feared that if she uttered a word, he would regain his senses, wake up, and refuse to be like this with her ever again.

She rested on his shoulders, watching him with eyes like water, and leaned down to kiss the sweat on his forehead.

Yan Shang began to worry again, gripping her wrist: "You, you..."

Mu Wanyao said softly: "What’s wrong? Don't be afraid, no one will know. It’s just us two here, just be yourself. As long as we don't make a sound, no one dares to check what the inside of the Princess’s carriage looks like, right? We’re already at this point, you can't hold back anymore."

He held back until his face turned rigid. Mu Wanyao leaned down to kiss him, and even his sweat felt pleasing to her.

Yan Shang: "No, you... you... when will your period come?"

Mu Wanyao was stunned.

Even someone like her was confused by his inexplicable question.

She kissed his neck and said: "Why ask that?"

Yan Shang gasped for air: "Chunniang says, you shouldn't do it before or after your period..."

Mu Wanyao paused: "Who is Chunniang?"

Her tone was a bit cold, but he was currently caught between fire and water, and didn't notice. He only clutched her hand, looking at her dizzily: "I teach her how to write... what’s wrong?"

Mu Wanyao: "Have you slept with her?"

Yan Shang was startled and said: "How could that be?"

He pressed against her, whispering: "You know, I only have you... Yaoyao, don't torture me..."

Mu Wanyao’s heart instantly softened.

She thought she would have Fang Tong inquire about it later; a man’s words were not necessarily the truth. But for now, she trusted Yan Shang. Moreover, as he rubbed against her like this, Mu Wanyao smiled again, kissed him for a while, and said: "So, the reason you hadn't come to find me for so long was that you were worried I would get pregnant. I was wondering, you are so young, how could you not know the taste of it, having no desires or thoughts? I even thought you really were the 'Liu Xiahui' who resisted beauty."

Yan Shang looked over.

She kissed him, smiling brightly: "You even made me doubt my own charm, you know?"

Yan Shang whispered shyly: "I thought about it... but..."

He said dejectedly after a long pause: "I shouldn't have done that with you in the first place."

If he hadn't made that mistake with her, he wouldn't be constantly thinking about it today and be forced to this point. Even knowing he shouldn't, he still wanted to.

Mu Wanyao was displeased: "Are you blaming your own lack of willpower now, or are you blaming me for seducing you into depravity?"

He started to speak, but Mu Wanyao, fearing he would ruin the atmosphere again, covered his mouth: "Alright, don't say those things, don't worry about those little details. I can drink contraception soup for you, don't mind that."

Yan Shang pursed his lips: "I can't let you drink contraception soup. It’s bad for your health."

Mu Wanyao wondered how he had suddenly learned that.

She made a mental note of this, guessing it had to do with that "Chunniang" he mentioned. Mu Wanyao had already roughly guessed that Yan Shang had likely consulted a brothel girl to learn about such things; otherwise, he wouldn't know the harm it caused to women... but she still needed Fang Tong to verify it later.

According to Mu Wanyao’s usual temper, she would have questioned Yan Shang on the spot. But now, she always felt she wasn't good enough to Yan Shang, so she didn't want to fight with him; she only wanted to compensate him twice over.

Mu Wanyao then said: "It’s alright. It’s just this once, I won't get pregnant. Don't you believe me?"

He was finally clumsy, guided by her, and listened to her words. Even though he was ashamed, he still carried on with her like this. It was just that he was too afraid of being heard by people outside, so he covered her mouth, not daring to let her make a sound. He didn't dare to be forceful with his movements, either... It was a mix of suppression and pleasure.

This taboo excitement, hiding in a narrow, gloomy corner, made them both feel very intense.

Not to mention Yan Shang, Mu Wanyao shivered like a cat, nearly crying on his shoulder.

And just halfway through, she began acting up again and stopped. Yan Shang was nearly driven mad by her and held her waist, pressing forward. Mu Wanyao quickly said: "Don't move, don't move, I just want to ask you a question."

He asked gloomily: "Do you have to do it at this time?"

Mu Wanyao: "Normally, after the military exercises, you should be promoted. Did the Secretariat make any arrangements for you?"

Yan Shang said vaguely: "I'm not sure, but my teacher said they should transfer me out of the Secretariat and send me to one of the Six Ministries of the Secretariat... Why?"

Mu Wanyao had an idea in her mind, so she said: "If I also request an official position for you in front of Father, so that your promotion this time is even better, would you feel insulted, or blame me for being meddlesome?"

He barely managed to compose himself, thinking about the meaning behind her words.

Yan Shang whispered: "I wouldn't blame you... but why do you want to request a position for me? Didn't I say I didn't need it?"

Mu Wanyao felt relieved and smiled: "I'm rewarding you."

Yan Shang was confused: "Rewarding me for what?"

Mu Wanyao: "Rewarding you for being willing to let me sleep with you."

Yan Shang paused for a long while before saying: "...So that’s it."

Mu Wanyao: "Not happy? Look at you, just a moment ago you said you weren't unhappy."

Yan Shang sighed and said: "Don't do this in the future. I don't want it this way."

Mu Wanyao: "Hmm?"

He lost control and thrust a bit more. After she let out an "ah," he couldn't help but kiss her. He mumbled: "Sleep once, get promoted once. Is this deal too good? If you really have this intention, you might as well... after ten or eight times, let me become the Prince Consort."

Mu Wanyao’s eyes widened: "What did you say?!"

He blushed, then insisted: "The Prince Consort! Why are you making fun of me like this... can't I ask for a title?"

Mu Wanyao quickly said he could, it was just that the time wasn't right yet... It was always a chaotic mess, then she came to love and stroke him, telling him not to mind those things.

The rain hammered against the carriage doors and windows; the spring was truly bright—

Traveling through the rain-slicked night was slower than usual, and because the ward gates were closed, they had to present their waist tags layer by layer, unable to return to the mansion as quickly as they normally would.

Fang Tong and the guards rode their horses behind the carriage. In the dark alley, Fang Tong saw a gentleman standing at the entrance.

Fang Tong immediately drew his sword with vigilance: "Who is there?"

Yang Si, who was hiding from the rain under the wall outside the Princess’s mansion alley, raised his face and said lazily: "It’s me."

Seeing that it was the Third Young Master Yang, Fang Tong sheathed his sword, and the guards dismounted to pay their respects. Yang Si wanted to walk toward the Princess’s carriage; Fang Tong’s expression was strange, and he reached out to block him. But Yang Si had such skill that, after only two moves, he bypassed the guards and reached the side of the carriage.

Yang Si tapped on the carriage door: "Yaoyao."

Inside, there was a delay before Mu Wanyao’s displeased voice came through: "Did Fang Tong not block you?"

Yang Si: "You won't let me get in the carriage to talk?"

Mu Wanyao: "It’s not convenient! If you dare to board, I will break ties with you immediately!"

Yang Si raised an eyebrow.

He hadn't cared at first, but now that she said this, he became interested. Rain fell on the Third Young Master Yang’s body and face; Yang Si sneered: "Who are you having an affair with behind my back, are you afraid I’ll run into them?"

Mu Wanyao’s voice was taut: "What does it have to do with you!"

Yang Si shrugged and said: "Yaoyao, I am going to leave Chang’an."

It took a while for Mu Wanyao to say softly: "Is that so? When? Did the Crown Prince agree?"

Yang Si grinned: "I knew you understood me. No need for me to explain the reason to you. It’s like this, I’m inviting you to go to Ci’en Temple to watch the plays. Will you go?"

Mu Wanyao: "Fine. Give me a time."

Yang Si spoke to her through the carriage for a while. When they finally said goodbye, he couldn't help but add: "Really, you don't dare to let me come in and sit?"

Mu Wanyao said in a fit of shame and anger: "Get lost!"

Yang Si laughed aloud, turned, and left. Looking back, he left a taunting remark: "Don't worry, don't worry, remember to wipe your mouth clean after eating. I won't tell Second Yan."

—

With the person gone, Fang Tong reminded her from outside: "Your Highness, the carriage is about to enter the alley. We have arrived at the mansion."

Mu Wanyao naturally understood what Fang Tong was reminding her of: "Mm."

Inside the carriage, Yan Shang lowered his head, each of them tidying their own clothes, neither speaking a word.

After a long while, Yan Shang couldn't bear it anymore. He gritted his teeth: "Tell me, the people outside don't know what we are doing inside!"

Mu Wanyao feigned innocence: "They don't know."

Yan Shang was a bit angry: "Do you take me for a fool? If they didn't know, why would Fang Tong remind you that we were almost in the alley? Why would he suddenly give such a reminder? You are just... looking for an excuse for your misconduct."

Mu Wanyao felt a guilty conscience and said nothing.

As they spoke, the carriage came to a stop.

Yan Shang disembarked and left without a moment’s hesitation, not even opening an umbrella, returning to his mansion in a fit of rage. Fang Tong held an umbrella for the Princess and stood by the carriage. Mu Wanyao looked toward the closed door of the neighboring mansion.

Fang Tong waited a while: "Your Highness, did you really make the Second Master angry?"

Mu Wanyao said with uncertainty: "Should... he not be very angry? Would men get angry over this?"

Fang Tong said: "Your Highness is asking me? Of course I wouldn't be angry... but he is the Second Master Yan."

Mu Wanyao remained silent, looking at her Captain of the Guard.

Fang Tong said uneasily: "Your Highness, this... shouldn't I have spoken just now?"

Mu Wanyao sighed: "There’s no help for it. You didn't know he was this clever, either. You only asked one question, and he guessed it."

Fang Tong felt guilty: "Then, I shall go and seek out the Second Master tomorrow to apologize."

Mu Wanyao said optimistically: "No need. You should pretend that this matter never happened—that would be true. If you go to apologize, he will surely feel incredibly awkward. Better that I go to curry favor and apologize tomorrow, coaxing him a bit. His temper is so good; perhaps after tonight, he won't be angry anymore."

The mistress and servant entered the mansion, discussing how to prepare gifts for the morrow to coax the young master who seemed to be angry.