Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Si Yan could not help laughing. She covered her mouth with her handkerchief and looked at him with smiling, almond-shaped eyes.
“You’re a eunuch. Where did you get little ones?”
The courtyard fell silent for a moment.
Only then did the young eunuch realize what he had said. His ears flamed.
Beside him, the other eunuch burst out laughing, then hastily stifled it, his face turning scarlet.
Even Linghe could not help smiling. She lowered her head to keep from laughing aloud.
“All right, all right.” Si Yan stepped aside and tipped her chin toward the stone table.
“Take them in and put them there.”
As though granted a pardon, the two eunuchs set the carriers on the stone table and fled.
From the lane came their faint laughter and teasing as they shoved each other, full of youthful liveliness.
“I nearly lost it when you said you had little ones. You really can make things up!”
“It just slipped out! And you laughed! Next time, you do the talking!”
Linghe smiled and shook her head, then shut and bolted the courtyard gate.
Returning to the stone table, she set the two red sandalwood carriers side by side and lifted their lids.
A rush of fragrant steam rose straight into their noses. Si Yan could not resist drawing a deep breath.
Sugar-steamed milk curd, osmanthus cake, rice balls in sweet fermented rice, rouge-red goose breast, and pork knuckle stewed with ham.
All her favorites.
Beside her, Linghe swallowed. She wiped the chopsticks with a handkerchief and placed them within her mistress’s reach.
“Miss, Young Master Jiang… The Secretary really does care about you.”
Si Yan ate several mouthfuls, her cheeks puffed full, but her tongue remained sharp.
“If he cares, how could he go three years without sending me a single word?”
She prodded the pork knuckle twice with her chopsticks, as though poking someone’s forehead.
“Even if he only sent someone to say, ‘I am well.’ Three little words. Would it kill him?”
Linghe opened her mouth, then wisely swallowed everything else she had meant to say.
After nightfall, the palace grew quiet.
Faint insect calls drifted in from outside the window, along with the freshness of night dew and a trace of flowers.
Si Yan let down her hair, changed into plain moon-white silk nightclothes, and reclined on the daybed with her storybook.
“Go and rest. I’ll put out the lamp myself.”
Linghe answered, tucked the quilt around her, and drew the window almost closed, leaving a gap for air.
In the middle of the night, thirst woke Si Yan.
She sat up groggily and reached for the teacup on the little bedside table.
As her fingertips touched its rim, she glimpsed someone standing by the window.
A muffled sound escaped her.
Before she could cry out, the figure swept over and covered her mouth.
A familiar voice spoke very low. His breath brushed her ear, carrying the faintest trace of ambergris.
“It’s me.”
Si Yan’s eyes widened. By the rekindled candlelight, she made out his face.
Jiang Youze!
He wore a sky-blue informal robe, his hair half tied up and half loose, and sat on the edge of her bed.
Wait. He had broken into her room in the middle of the night?
In the palace, at that!
This courtyard might be secluded, but it was not as though no one lived nearby!
A Eunuch Secretary of the Directorate of Ceremonial sneaking into a woman’s quarters at midnight. What if someone discovered him?
He might not fear losing his office, but she still feared losing her reputation!
She opened her mouth to scold him. All that came out were muffled noises.
Her lips moved vigorously against his palm, tickling it faintly.
Jiang Youze’s throat worked. He uncovered her mouth and looked down at her.
Si Yan wrapped herself in the quilt until only half her face showed, her almond-shaped eyes wide.
“What are you doing here?”
Looking at those guarded eyes, Jiang Youze felt the smile in his own fade a little.
“I’ve come…”
His fingers rubbed his palm, as though he were still savoring the feel of her lips brushing against it.
“To pay a midnight call on a beauty.”
Si Yan stared at him as though she had seen a ghost.
Was he… was he speaking sweet nothings?
A midnight call on a beauty?
How could words like that possibly come out of Jiang Youze’s mouth?
He was the tongue-tied fellow who would turn away and pretend to cough whenever his ears went red!
She lowered the quilt to reveal her whole face and looked him up and down coldly.
What was he playing at?
A few days ago, he had told her to marry someone else. Now he was sneaking into her room at midnight and saying things like this.
“Jiang Youze.”
She sat upright. The quilt slipped to her waist, and the collar of her nightclothes fell slightly open.
“Are you making a game of me?”
Candlelight fell on her indignant face, illuminating the fine down on her skin.
Jiang Youze’s gaze passed over her exposed collarbone, then returned to her eyes.
Even angry, Qingqing was lovely.
He forced his eyes to remain on her face and stray no farther down.
His throat worked. His voice was a little husky. “No.”
“No?” Si Yan was almost angry enough to laugh. She snatched up a pillow and hurled it at him.
“Then what did you say the other day? That I should accept him! After you kissed me, too!”
Her voice sank at the end, betraying a hurt she could not hide.
Something shimmered in her eyes. She fought hard not to let it fall.
But the candlelight was too bright. He could see that film of tears perfectly.
“You always give me a sweet, let me taste it, and then slap me.”
The more she spoke, the more wronged she felt. At last, the tears escaped and ran down her cheeks.
“Why do you treat me like this? Am I so worthless? Mm…”
His lips caught hers before she finished. The arms drawing her close held tightly, yet trembled a little.
Jiang Youze caught her lower lip between his, insistently parted her teeth, and claimed the soft tip of her tongue.
He wanted to silence her this way, and undo the words just spoken.
He could not bear to hear her speak of herself like that.
To him, she was the moon in the sky, someone he dared not reach for even on his knees. She was the one thought that had sustained him through three years struggling in the mire.
He could be trampled underfoot. People could call him eunuch and slave behind his back. He could swallow every humiliation, every bitter resentment.
But he could not bear for her to see herself that way.
To use the pain he had given her as a measure of her own worth.
His Qingqing had never been worthless.
He was the worthless one.
Si Yan turned her head to escape his lips, pressing both hands to his chest to push him away.
Beneath them, she could feel firm muscle and a racing heart, pounding against her palms.
Again. Again. Again.
What words would he say to break her heart after this kiss?
She did not want to hear them. She wanted no more.
“Let me go…” The words emerged indistinctly, full of tears and resistance.
“I can’t stand you… I hate you…”
She struggled desperately to escape his embrace, but his arms encircled her like iron bands.
Tears ran down her cheeks and seeped between their joined lips.
“You mustn’t… Qingqing… You mustn’t…”
Jiang Youze pressed her onto the bed, his arms tightening to hold her firmly beneath him.
She must not hate him.
Anything else. She could hit him, curse him, refuse to forgive him, never speak to him for the rest of her life.
Only, she must not hate him.