Chapter 174
Chapter 174
Xiyuan Duanmu looked at the crowd of freeloaders filling her house and sighed.
Every one of them was wealthier than she was, making it impossible to tell them to leave.
The vegetables had been set to pickle, but they could not be eaten immediately. With the date of their descent still uncertain, no one knew whether they would remain long enough to taste them.
Pecky had flown off somewhere again, and Shengsheng Zhou did not search for him.
She was already accustomed to this elusive bird.
At dinner, whether by coincidence or not, Fusheng Duan happened to sit directly beside Shengsheng.
Originally, only Xiyuan and Zhiyu Jiang lived here, so they needed nothing more than a small table.
But so many people could never fit around it now. With no other choice, Xiyuan brought out the large round table once used for the feast at her parents’ wedding.
It fit everyone perfectly.
The food tasted terrible, but after a full day of commotion, everyone was starving. Even little Siran Ming, who had denounced it as pig slop, silently shoveled rice into his mouth, giving Xiyuan the illusion that her cooking had improved.
As a result, not one person noticed when Fusheng’s hand slid onto Shengsheng’s thigh.
Shengsheng glanced at the man beside her.
He sat with elegant composure, calmly holding chopsticks in one hand as he picked through the undercooked rice in his bowl. He even “kindly” stole the meat Zhiyu had given little Siran and placed it in Shengsheng’s bowl.
Siran: !
He was about to erupt when Zhiyu shoved a mouthful of bitter greens between his lips at lightning speed, successfully diverting his attention.
In summary, this outwardly flawless man looked nothing like a pervert fondling a young lady’s thigh.
Shengsheng took a deep breath and whispered, “Let go. You can touch me when we return to the room.”
Fusheng withdrew his hand immediately, without the slightest hesitation, and even nodded his chin with remarkable restraint.
Shengsheng: “…” He had planned this, hadn’t he?
It was time someone else inherited the title of schemer.
Curled beneath his blankets and mired in the trauma of the giant clam blossoming, Weiqing Song sneezed violently.
Was his suffering not enough? Did people still have to insult him behind his back?
Suddenly recalling a song Shengsheng once hummed, Weiqing found it remarkably fitting.
“Curse me to my face~ Then you’re pretty damn bold~ Curse me behind my back~ Then you’re lower than low~~”
Shengsheng, standing at the door and preparing to knock and ask whether he wanted food: “…”
He could remain hungry.
After everyone had exchanged good nights, Fusheng casually grabbed Siran, who clung stubbornly to Shengsheng, and tossed him into Weiqing’s room.
Then, with perfect accuracy, he hooked an arm around Shengsheng as she tried to flee and pulled her into his room.
Zhiyu, emerging from the latrine: “…”
Where was Shengsheng?
…
Quickly covering the full, pale lips before her, Shengsheng whispered, “Are you used to my current face? Why does this feel strange to me?”
“What feels strange?” Warm breath brushed Shengsheng’s palm, making it itch.
She curled her fingers, looked away, and whispered, “Kissing you in this body feels strange.”
Amusement entered Fusheng’s eyes. One hand released her waist, moved upward, and covered her eyes.
With her vision blocked, her other senses sharpened. Cool strands of hair slid across her cheek, followed by the familiar voice beside her ear.
“Is this better?”
His already distinctive voice deliberately lowered, the final syllables gaining an inexplicably sensual note that proved irresistibly seductive.
Though he asked, he clearly had no intention of seeking her opinion. Before Shengsheng could answer, he kissed her lips with long-restrained impatience.
Shengsheng Zhou tried to stop Fusheng Duan’s other restless hand and bit him in anger.
After finally gaining enough distance to breathe, she managed, “Don’t touch me there… You–” before he chased her lips and swallowed the rest of her words.
Yet the hand forbidden to wander only grew more outrageous.
…
Fortunately, Fusheng’s current condition truly prevented them from going too far. When Shengsheng straightened her clothes to leave, his expression remained extremely dark.
She patted his cheek and said gently, “Don’t be sad. One day, you’ll regain your masculine glory.”
Fusheng: “…”
Shengsheng still wished to conceal their relationship and did not sleep beside him. Once their illicit business was complete, she swiftly dressed and left.
Compared with Shengsheng’s carefree, unhesitating departure, Fusheng–with disheveled hair spilling down his back, red and purple marks beneath his collarbones, and illness-pale lips kissed forcibly swollen–looked far more like the one who had been ravished.
Returning to her room with a face glowing from the spring breeze, Shengsheng immediately sensed an indescribable resentment.
“Ahem… Still awake, Yu’er?”
Zhiyu Jiang sat on the bed hugging her quilt and asked aggrievedly, “Did you go to Noble Consort’s room?”
She reeked of Noble Consort.
Shengsheng suddenly smiled. “Is my Consort Yu angry? Then this emperor must coax her carefully.”
“So I’m merely a consort? Boohoo. No wonder Your Majesty enjoys fooling around with Noble Consort and remembers this concubine only at the end.” She sorrowfully wiped nonexistent tears from the corners of her eyes with her sleeve.
Xiaosui, sleeping like a human with his belly exposed, rolled over.
Why had he suddenly begun dreaming of palace intrigue? How strange…
It was definitely because Fusheng was too hateful… He had to do something tomorrow…
“I’m hungry, Shengsheng.”
After they acted for a while, Zhiyu’s stomach suddenly released an enormously loud growl.
Shengsheng rubbed her belly. It truly was flat.
“Where did dinner go?”
“Into the latrine.”
Shengsheng: “…” “I saw noodles left over tonight. Should we secretly make ourselves a late-night meal?”
Zhiyu scrambled out of bed on all fours. Even in the darkness, Shengsheng could see green light gleaming from both her eyes.
Operation Feed the Starving Wolf began.
Zhiyu held up the lamp while Shengsheng, as fast as ever, quickly prepared two bowls of simple noodles.
They carried the bowls to the pavilion in the rear courtyard, sat shoulder to shoulder beneath the same large blanket, and slurped noodles.
After eating so much pig slop, even a simple bowl of noodles made Zhiyu narrow her eyes in bliss.
Shengsheng transferred the fried egg from her own bowl. “Slow down.”
Zhiyu split it in half with her chopsticks and placed one half back in Shengsheng’s bowl. “We’ll share.”
“Shengsheng.”
“Mm?”
Looking at the moon before them, as round as a washbasin, Zhiyu slowly said, “I want exquisite red-bean cakes.”
Shengsheng: “…” Wouldn’t a normal person ask for mooncakes?
“I’ll make them for you next time.”
Zhiyu’s eyes narrowed into crescents as she smiled. After slurping another mouthful, she asked, “Why do red beans represent longing, while mung beans have to be paired with turtles?”
“Because longing is too bitter, while turtles are highly nourishing.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Shengsheng.”
“Mm?”
“You must be happy.”
“Mm. You too.”
The two girls leaned against each other. Perhaps ten or twenty years later, they would forget this conversation, but the washbasin-like moon and passing night breeze would silently record the tale of longing and turtles.