Tigers Sniff the Rose - Extra Chapter 4

Extra Chapter - Young Wanderer (Part 4)

Heart hammering like a drum, ears buzzing.

Neither of them had ever been this intimate with anyone before, and for a moment, both were struck dumb.

Mu Wanyao covered her wildly jumping heart and stole a glance at Yan Shang. She saw that his face was also flushed, his pressed lips somewhat stiff. She found herself staring at his mouth, recollecting the sensation from just a moment ago.

He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, his elbows pressing hard against the desk as if startled into standing, though he deliberately restrained himself. At the same time, his five slender fingers curled slightly, involuntarily clenching the documents he held.

The tips of his ears, hidden beneath his hair, turned even redder.

Mu Wanyao’s eyes widened: Is he shy? Is he really this shy?

Her mind whirred. She felt a bit of sympathy for Yan Shang, but also figured that since she was from the imperial palace, she was more experienced than him and ought to teach him.

But... what should she teach him?

Perhaps her gaze was too brazen, for Yan Shang lowered his head toward her, his voice slightly reproving: "Your Highness!"

Mu Wanyao grabbed his sleeve, the gold of the room’s light reflecting in her uplifted eyes, full of shimmering charm. Yan Shang was momentarily lost in her gaze. Mu Wanyao was both shy and curious, mixed with a secret, bold streak unique to her private self.

She whispered: "Brother, lean closer. I have something to say."

Yan Shang endured his discomfort and lowered his ear to her.

She tilted her face up, reaching out to cup her hand beside his cheek, her red lips pressing against his ear. Her fine, soft breath floated against Yan Shang’s ear like a feather.

Yan Shang’s hand tightened on the documents, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. His Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily.

Mu Wanyao was completely oblivious, merely whispering mysteriously into his ear, solemnly instructing him: "Second Brother Yan, this is called 'kissing'!"

Yan Shang: "..."

He shifted back slightly, looking at her with a strange, indescribable expression.

Mu Wanyao was slightly smug: "I’ve seen it in the palace."

Yan Shang drawled slowly: "Who did you see it with? As a Princess, is such a thing suitable for you to view?"

Mu Wanyao was about to answer that she had seen it in some stolen illustrated storybooks, but she suddenly remembered that after she peeked at them previously, the books were banned the very next day and her mother had replaced all of her palace maids.

Although she was already married and should be the master of her own mansion, the shadows of her youth still left Mu Wanyao feeling lingering fear.

So she answered him craftily, refusing to satisfy his question: "Anyway, I have seen it! Anyway, I know this is kissing. Do you know, Second Brother Yan? You don't know, do you? Beg me, and I’ll tell you how it works!"

Yan Shang’s eyebrows twitched slightly.

A smile bubbled up in his heart.

He didn't necessarily not know. In the taverns of the northern district, he had accidentally seen such things many times. He was just too embarrassed, finding it unrefined. Yan Er-lang, who had always paid such close attention to his own conduct, would never allow himself to be seen in such an unseemly state.

But he suddenly discovered that the cute, clever little Princess he had imagined—his little wife—was not always so obedient.

Yan Shang blushed while suppressing a laugh. He asked: "And what do you think 'kissing' means?"

Mu Wanyao: "After kissing, you make little babies!"

Yan Shang: "..."

Mu Wanyao: "What?"

Yan Shang was embarrassed.

He coughed, unable to resist his instinct to correct her: "We... after our wedding night, do you still believe that kissing makes little babies?"

Mu Wanyao was stunned, her face exploding into red.

She was just a bit naive, not truly stupid. She might be muddled about things, but she wasn't so dense that she couldn't understand once Yan Shang had posed the question.

Deeply mortified, she buried her head like a quail, pretending she hadn't just humiliated herself. She said: "You—you forget what I just said!"

Yan Shang laughed.

He complied readily: "Very well."

He looked at the water clock and said softly: "Right, you’ve played for long enough. Surely it is time to sleep now?"

Mu Wanyao hesitated.

She suddenly looked up and whispered: "Second Brother Yan."

Yan Shang: "Hmm?"

Mu Wanyao: "Do you want to... kiss one more time?"

Yan Shang went stiff and blank.

He looked down at her, gazing at her powder-white little face. Her eyes were clear and bright as a pristine lake. She was entirely curious and shy, but her curiosity had conquered her shyness. Her eyes were fixed on his mouth, her crimson lips slightly parted, a brilliant, glowing light dancing beneath his gaze.

A sudden heat washed over Yan Shang’s heart.

Thinking she was his wife... what could possibly be wrong with that?

Moreover... he, too, was... curious.

Yan Shang lowered his head. Under the gaze of Mu Wanyao’s wide, staring eyes, his lips gently touched hers. He hugged her shoulders; she held her breath in terror, her face growing redder by the second. Mu Wanyao saw Yan Shang close his eyes, his lashes fluttering against his eyelids.

He was no better than she was—

Young lovers, driven by nothing more than curiosity.

With a half-understood realization, they naively believed that touching mouths was all there was to a kiss.

So they both held their breath, both so nervous their hearts were about to jump out of their throats, and yet both found happiness in the act.

A nibble, a brush, a gentle rub—that was all they believed a kiss to be.

After testing each other for a while, not only was Mu Wanyao’s face a shade of bright red, but sweat had broken out on Yan Shang’s temples. He instinctively yearned for something, though he wasn't quite sure what, as he was accustomed to enduring everything. Yet, the desire bubbling to the surface made the hands clutching her shoulders scalding and forceful.

Kiss after kiss. Though not true kisses, they had already begun to grope their way toward the truth.

Who started it? Who was gripping whose sleeve? Between bowing heads and lifting faces, eyes closed and eyes opened, their breaths had already mingled into a sweet fragrance.

By the time Mu Wanyao realized, she was no longer sitting beside him waiting. She didn't know when Yan Shang had picked her up; she was now sitting on his lap. One of his hands held her shoulder, the other cradled her cheek. As her cheeks burned, her own hands gripped his neck tightly, letting out soft, whimpering cries.

Yan Shang retreated with difficulty.

Mu Wanyao’s eyes went round, staring at him in surprise.

Yan Shang turned his face away, looking somewhat humiliated.

Mu Wanyao pressed against his ear, whispering timidly: "Your... your body seems to have changed... it’s a bit like... like that wedding night, you know?"

Yan Shang pursed his lips.

He said awkwardly: "I know. Can you stop talking?"

For a moment, he even forgot to use formal terms like "Your Highness" or "this subject."

Mu Wanyao obediently hummed in agreement, burying her face against his neck, letting him hold her. She looked distractedly at the bobbing Adam’s apple in his neck, wanting to reach out and touch it, but felt it might not be appropriate. She just stared at it, wrestling with her inner impulses.

At the same time, she saw sweat breaking out on Yan Shang’s neck. A thin sheen of sweat, his throat working as he swallowed.

He was as rigid as a stone.

Just as Mu Wanyao couldn't help but reach out to touch him, her fingers were pressed down by Yan Shang. Mu Wanyao was startled, thinking he had discovered her curiosity and was refusing to let her touch him.

Mu Wanyao looked at Yan Shang guiltily. He lowered his eyes, their gazes meeting.

After enduring for a moment, he couldn't help but whisper into her ear: "Could we... could we try once?"

Mu Wanyao was confused: "Okay. Your face is so red. But try what? I don’t understand. Second Brother Yan, can’t you speak more clearly?"

Yan Shang’s face turned even redder.

He held his breath for a long time, his voice sinking so low that if Mu Wanyao hadn't been pressed against him, she wouldn't have heard a word: "...Just... just that night. The wedding... like that. I... I want... I want to."

Mu Wanyao was stunned.

She disliked the pain, so she was somewhat unwilling. But the palace matrons had said that after the first time, it wouldn't hurt anymore. Besides... besides... last time, she had been so nervous and shy, she had kept her eyes closed the whole time and hadn't gotten a proper look at what Second Brother Yan looked like with his clothes off.

And when you like someone, instinct truly makes you want to look at them.

To see all of him, especially in bed.

Mu Wanyao nodded readily, her eyes curving into crescents: "Okay!"—

Yet, easier said than done.

Mu Wanyao was very much smitten with Yan Shang, but once he had her pinned between the bedclothes and began, all her tender affection was chased away by the pain. Her face went deathly pale. Seeing how much he was restraining himself, she tried her best to cooperate. But she didn't know who had the problem—she just felt pain, so much pain... Not as bad as the first time, but still uncomfortable!

His hands rested beside her pillow; he knit his brows, his fists slightly clenched. Mu Wanyao closed her eyes and whimpered softly.

Tears clung to her eyelashes, and she trembled with gasps of breath.

Hearing her sobbing, Yan Shang barely managed to recover from the depths of his intense pleasure, looking at her blankly. The warm curtains were fragrant, yet the little girl in his arms was weeping, sniffling, and he, in truth, was also... Yan Shang was instantly frustrated and utterly miserable.

With silk and embroidery heaped around her waist, he withdrew, hugged her shoulders, and lifted her up to sit. He patted her back soothingly and said hoarsely: "Alright, alright, we’ll stop. Don't cry anymore."

Mu Wanyao choked out: "I don’t want to cry either..."

Actually, it hadn't hurt that much, but it was painful... and the moment Yan Shang coaxed her, she seemed to grow truly fragile, with five parts of pain ballooning into ten. The more he comforted her, the more her tears flowed. She thought confusedly about why it had to be this way, as it wasn't comfortable at all.

Leaning against the pillows, her long hair disheveled and scattered, her face flushed with a soft, pink, translucent hue. She still insisted: "Don't mind me, you can continue..."

Yan Shang gave a bitter smile, wiping the tears from beneath her eyes with his hand. In his heart, he thought her tears were pitiful and dear, but he dared not let her cry anymore.

Yan Shang said: "How could I not mind you? I am truly stopping. Don't frown anymore."

He held her, speaking many sweet words, his voice tender and gentle. The discomfort in his own body was forcefully suppressed; at first, he had been drenched in cold sweat, but later, it truly faded away. As Yan Shang sighed continuously in his heart, Mu Wanyao finally stopped crying.

She gripped his hand, stuttering: "Can we not do this in the future? It’s really uncomfortable and not fun at all. I think we’re very good just as we are, Second Brother Yan, don't you?"

Yan Shang was silent.

He had guessed that he had done something wrong, because it seemed no one else had this problem; others seemed to enjoy it immensely... But looking into Mu Wanyao’s eyes, Yan Shang thought distractedly that Mu Wanyao clearly had no intention of giving him another chance to experiment. She had flatly rejected him, severing any possibility.

After a while, Yan Shang resigned himself. He sighed with a smile-like expression: "Your Highness is right. We will never do this again."

Mu Wanyao felt relieved and became willing to intimately cuddle his neck again, begging him not to look at the official documents anymore, and for the two of them to sleep together. Yan Shang was left blushing and red-faced by her soft, coquettish words, once again sparking a bit of impulse, but he was afraid of his own reaction.

The light in the bed curtains was dim. Yan Shang whispered: "Allow me to go freshen up."

Mu Wanyao sniffed at his neck. He stiffened, gasping, his tailbone tingling with numbness once more.

Under the moonlight and autumn silk curtains, the heavy scent of feminine fragrance swirled.

Yan Shang knelt on his side, while Mu Wanyao refused to let go of the silver hooks on his sash. How obedient she was during the day, yet she had such a stubborn side in private, leaving him helpless.

She looked at him with puppy-dog eyes: "You aren't dirty; didn't you just wash tonight? There’s no need to wash again."

After a long moment, Yan Shang said: "Could Your Highness please not sniff me in the future?"

Mu Wanyao found this strange: "Why? Don't you like it?"

Yan Shang frowned, unable to say if he liked it or not. Mu Wanyao was understanding and very sensible: "I know! If there is anything Second Brother Yan doesn't like me doing, just tell me, and I will definitely change it in the future!"

Yan Shang had no words.

He wondered to himself: He liked sleeping alone and didn't like sharing a bed with her; could she do that?

But saying such words would be hurtful, so Yan Shang could only keep reciting mantras to himself, trying his best not to become so depraved—

As Yan Shang gradually adapted to his new wife, Mu Wanyao also lived very happily.

Mu Wanyao considered herself quite the virtuous helper. Because Yan Shang had to be busy with the imperial examinations at the beginning of the next year, whenever he returned, Mu Wanyao would go to the study and teach him how to write poetry as quickly and well as possible. Every time he looked at her, she could see his appreciation in his eyes, which made her even happier.

Mu Wanyao would also watch Yan Shang help his second brother read documents, organize reports, and make comments. After she stayed in the study with him for a long time, Yan Shang’s heart would soften, and he would accompany her to bed early.

Sometimes, when the mood struck her, Mu Wanyao would flip through his official reports.

Yan Shang asked: "Can Your Highness understand them?"

Mu Wanyao: "No."

She threw the reports aside, slumped over his shoulder, and muttered: "I don't look at these; there’s nothing in these reports as good as my musical scores. It’s fine that Second Brother Yan is busy with them; I have no interest in your government affairs."

Yan Shang merely smiled and said nothing.

Mu Wanyao believed her life with Yan Shang was extraordinarily harmonious, the envy of everyone, and she was immensely smug about it.

One day, she received an invitation from her Fourth Sister to go somewhere and admire the snow. The guests were all married women. Mu Wanyao considered herself a young matron now, so she hurriedly went to the banquet, wanting to play with the other women who had married. She felt that a girl after marriage shouldn't play with girls who weren't married anymore.

How could unmarried young ladies possibly understand the happy life she led with her husband!

Mu Wanyao was so proud.

When Princess Danyang arrived, the aristocratic young matrons naturally welcomed her. And as Mu Wanyao expected, the married women inevitably began talking about their husbands before long. Hearing their topics, Mu Wanyao hurriedly set aside her melon seeds and leaned in, preparing to share her opinions at the right moment and show off her own married life.

The women mentioned their husbands, unable to stop themselves from flashing meaningful smiles.

They asked the little Princess: "Since Your Highness has just married not long ago, the bridegroom must make it very strenuous for Your Highness, right?"

Mu Wanyao said naively: "No, it’s not strenuous. Second Brother Yan treats me very well."

The matrons giggled: "That’s not what we mean... we mean, the matters in bed."

Mu Wanyao was confused.

She looked at the suggestive smiles in the women’s eyes and suddenly realized that she and these other women were somewhat different. She didn't quite understand what they were talking about, nor did she grasp the meaning behind their ambiguous expressions.

Mu Wanyao remained calm. If she didn't understand something, she wouldn't talk nonsense and make people laugh at her. She gave a vague, non-committal response.

The Fourth Princess, seeing them making things difficult for her little sister, hurriedly came to her rescue, chiding them: "What are you all babbling about? Aren't all men in this world the same? As if you hadn't been married yourselves."

The Fourth Princess, Princess Yuyang, turned to give her younger sister some quiet advice, blushing as she said: "Sister, you are a newlywed. I heard you even sent the palace matrons back last month. Naturally, I know you two are young, and perhaps you don't know how to exercise restraint... but you shouldn't be too reckless. The bridegroom is young and a man; it’s easy for him to lose control. But as daughters of a house, we must take care of our own bodies.

"Sister, you cannot always give in to him. You cannot give in just because he wants it."

Another matron offered her experience: "You can’t indulge those men. If you always give it to him, once he gets bored, he’ll go looking for outside flirts. Naturally, since Your Highness is a Princess, the bridegroom probably wouldn't dare... but isn't that exactly how the Princess Royal’s husband behaved? Still, one must be careful."

Mu Wanyao nodded blankly.

Another maid whispered something to a matron, and the woman turned around with a smile, showing off to the others: "My husband is so annoying; he is always coming to find me and calling me to go back."

The person beside her said enviously: "You and your husband have such a harmonious relationship; we are all so envious."

Mu Wanyao pricked up her ears: Eh? Husbands of other people’s families will take the initiative to find their wives?

Then someone mentioned their husband begging them to go somewhere to play.

Mu Wanyao: Eh? Husbands of other people’s families will beg their wives to go somewhere?

Then others said their husbands wanted them to embroider shoes or pouches for them, some said their husbands drew their eyebrows for them, and others said how their husbands' eyes looked at them differently than others... They weren't necessarily truly that happy, but in public, one must always find such traces of affection to show off that their marriage was very happy.

But Mu Wanyao was truly listening in a daze.

She didn't know whether those people’s words were true or false, nor did she need to know. She only needed to know that everything they were showing off, she didn't have at all.

She had been single-mindedly feeling that her married life was extraordinarily good and that she and Yan Shang were particularly affectionate, but now she suddenly discovered... perhaps it was just an illusion of her own.

She suddenly realized that perhaps Yan Shang didn't like her at all. Perhaps this marriage was something he had been forced to accept by the Emperor and Empress, and he was merely enduring it—

Early winter, it began to snow.

Yan Shang, unable to bear the cold of Chang'an’s snow, sneezed several times while working under the Crown Prince during the day, looking as if he had caught a cold. The Crown Prince let him off early to go home and rest. But how could Yan Shang have time to rest?

He had been invited to a banquet in the northern district.

He had been distracted, but upon seeing a certain type of pastry at the banquet, he couldn't help but smile after a single taste.

The host, a young man, immediately asked: "Does Su Chen like this dessert?"

Yan Shang returned to his senses, slightly embarrassed: "No, it is just that I think my wife would like it."

She liked sweets.

The sweeter it was, the more she liked it. Every time she tinkered with the snacks after their wedding, they were always so sweet that Yan Shang couldn't swallow them. Yet, looking at the little Princess’s expectant and fawning eyes, how could Yan Shang say he didn't like them?

The young man opposite immediately laughed: "It seems Su Chen and the Princess have a very good relationship."

Yan Shang lowered his eyes, his face blushing slightly—

Because of this interlude, Yan Shang bade a hasty farewell, even taking the pastry from the banquet to bring home to Mu Wanyao while it was still warm. Hearing from people in the mansion that the Princess had gone to a banquet, Yan Shang thought for a moment, then took the pastries and ventured out into the snow to fetch her.

Hearing the bridegroom had arrived, the young women at the banquet were filled with envy. They only talked about how much their husbands loved them and cherished them, but truly coming out in the snow, only the Princess Danyang’s bridegroom would do such a thing.

Mu Wanyao, however, kept a straight face and hummed, not looking very happy.

She went out with her maidservants and saw Yan Shang waiting outside the carriage. He stood in the snow, his wide sleeves dragging on the ground, his body as elegant as a jade statue, his black eyes watching her with a smile. Seeing him like this, Mu Wanyao couldn't help but return his smile.

Then she realized: Why should I smile at him! He doesn't like me!

Yan Shang hugged her shoulders, helped her into the carriage, and said softly: "I brought you your favorite pastry; it’s still warm. Let’s try it in the carriage; if you like it, shall we go eat at that tavern tonight?"

Mu Wanyao nodded obediently: "Okay, okay."

Then she realized again: No! Not okay! He doesn't like me...

With a gentle push on her shoulder, she climbed into the carriage. Just as Mu Wanyao was struggling with whether she should ask him if he had been forced into the marriage and if he didn't like her at all, Yan Shang lifted a cloth and carefully took a piece of the soft, sticky pastry to feed her.

Mu Wanyao took a bite, her brows instantly relaxing, her eyes moist, and a bright light shining in them.

Yan Shang smiled: "I knew you’d like it. Don't rush, drink some tea before eating more."

He fed her the pastry in soft, gentle whispers, and the young couple agreed to eat at the tavern that night. During this time, Yan Shang sneezed several times, and Mu Wanyao grew anxious, worrying about whether he was sick, fussing over him with concern. Surrounded by her care, he lowered his head, blushing and unable to keep from laughing.

With all this fussing, Mu Wanyao found she couldn't bring herself to question him anymore.

Wait—wait until she finished eating dinner that night, finished the pastries she liked, and then she would fight with him.

Ah, no, he seemed to be sick.

Then, she would wait until he recovered from his illness to fight with him.