Volume 1, Chapter 17: He, Too, Had Once Harbored Such Intentions

Some frosting from Xiao Huai’s fingertips had smudged the corner of Yao Yan’s mouth, leaving her lips looking soft and pink. Xiao Huai felt his throat tighten. With a touch of roughness, he wiped the corner of her mouth firmly with his fingertip. "How filthy."

Anyone with eyes in the courtyard could see that Xiao Huai was becoming increasingly indulgent toward Yao Yan.

Zhou Ning and Wu Gong even made a bet on when the General would finally get intimate with her. After all, he had already broken all three of his self-imposed rules; the rest was only a matter of time. Wu Gong bet it would happen before the New Year, while Zhou Ning opted for after, with a stake of ten taels of silver.

***

The study was quiet, save for the dull, slow sound of the cold wind sweeping past outside. A small, golden beast-shaped incense burner sat to the left of the paperweight; it was smokeless, emitting a deep and faint fragrance.

Xiao Huai was practicing calligraphy, copying a *Pingfu Tie* he had acquired a few days prior. It was a pity that what he held was not the original, but a copy by a renowned master.

Yao Yan was by his side, grinding ink. Though she stood upright, she had long since begun to doze off, leaning against the corner of the desk. She had not been sleeping well lately; as the end of the year approached, she spent her nights in a state of restless insomnia.

Xiao Huai dipped his brush into the ink, only to notice that the hand holding the ink stick was grinding in an erratic, aimless rhythm. He looked up.

The person who had volunteered that morning to serve him was nodding off, her head bobbing. The ink stick was worn down into an unsightly mess, and her hands were completely stained with ink.

Xiao Huai glanced at the calming incense in the burner. With a helpless sigh, he took the ink stick from her hand. Seeing how truly exhausted she was, he decided to let her go back to bed.

Deprived of the object in her hand, Yao Yan instinctively grabbed Xiao Huai’s hand, followed its trajectory, and slumped softly into his arms. One of her arms wrapped around his waist, holding on tight like a brazen rogue.

Xiao Huai pressed his lips together. He supported her shoulders, and seeing that she was truly fast asleep and that there was no one else around, he gave a soft cough. He sat down slowly in the chair, pulling her into his lap and holding her close.

Yao Yan’s fair, slender fingertips were covered in pitch-black ink. Xiao Huai wiped her hands away with a look of mild disgust, but then, seeing her resting peacefully against his shoulder, he suddenly thought that perhaps keeping her by his side like this wouldn't be so bad.

The person in his arms was soft and light, as if she had no weight at all, and she radiated a faint, delicate fragrance. Xiao Huai lowered his head, his breath mingling with hers; he could clearly see the fine, transparent down on her cheeks.

Perhaps finding her sleeping position uncomfortable, Yao Yan shifted, settling into a more relaxed posture. Her head rested beneath his chin, one arm circled his waist, and her chest pressed firmly against his.

Xiao Huai went rigid. It took a long time for him to regain control of his body. He tightened his hold on her to keep her from slipping, his gaze sweeping around the study, but he could not find a suitable place to set her down.

He stood up while holding her and walked to the tea table opposite the desk. After a moment’s hesitation, he sat back down with her in his arms, resolving to have a daybed added to the study later.

Holding her like this was rather inconvenient. Feeling her stir slightly, Xiao Huai lowered his eyes. Seeing the faint shadows under her eyes, he couldn't help but chuckle—was it possible that she couldn't sleep soundly on a soft daybed and only found comfort in his arms?

If that were the case, he might as well endure it and let her have a peaceful sleep.

It was the dead of winter, and all things were desolate. During this winter last year, Xiao Huai had been in Longyou. When the enemy had launched a surprise attack and nearly reached the pass, he had led five hundred cavalrymen to set a formation and narrowly secure victory.

Had it not been for Commander Xu’s heavy blow to the Tibetans in the middle of the year, he would not have been able to return to the capital to report his duties, let alone hold such warmth and softness in his arms now.

Xiao Huai’s fingertips wandered slowly over Yao Yan’s cheeks, occasionally stroking her brow or touching her eyelashes, as if admiring a prized trinket. After a while, he reached out and pinched her cheek. The person in his arms let out a soft whimper.

Her scent was truly intoxicating, as if specially blended to make him lose his focus. Seeing her sleeping expression so tranquil and slightly endearing, Xiao Huai couldn't help but lean in to smell her face. After checking to ensure no one was at the door, he slowly lowered his head, an involuntary urge to kiss her rising within him.

Just once, he thought. Just to see if she was truly as warm and soft as she seemed, and if she tasted as sweet as honey coated in sugar.

"General!" Zhou Ning, having received a letter from Commander Xu, ran over in a hurry with Wu Gong, pounding on the door of the study until it shook.

Xiao Huai’s attempt at a stolen kiss failed. Feeling rather guilty, he tossed the person in his arms to the side. Yao Yan let out a startled cry, falling to the floor and waking up.

Hearing the commotion inside the study, Zhou Ning and Wu Gong fell silent. Wu Gong revealed a row of white teeth, smiled, and held out his hand to Zhou Ning. "Ten taels."

Xiao Huai had pulled his strength when he tossed Yao Yan, so she was only startled, not hurt.

"Awake?" Xiao Huai snorted coldly. "You can even fall asleep while grinding ink. Get out."

Yao Yan was bewildered, but she obeyed and left. As she opened the door, she saw Wu Gong smiling at her and politely nodded in return. She clearly remembered standing while dozing off; how did she end up falling to the floor?

Back in the left courtyard, Ping’er was sewing. Seeing her enter, she asked, "Yao Yan, are you going to sleep during the day today?"

Having been given such a fright, Yao Yan’s sleepiness had vanished completely. She sat down to embroider a handkerchief. "No, I’ll embroider a few handkerchiefs instead."

Ping’er nodded, took out a plate of melon seeds, and began to crack them while she sewed. After a while, she suddenly remarked, "Yao Yan, have you gained weight?"

Yao Yan had never been particularly slender. Hearing this, she touched her waist. "My clothes do feel a bit tighter, but there’s still a finger’s width of space at my waist. Isn’t it normal to put on some weight in winter?"

"That’s not it," Ping’er laughed, poking her chest. "It’s here—you’ve become more voluptuous."

Yao Yan blushed and reached for her embroidery needle to tease her back. After they played around for a bit, Ping’er suddenly turned serious. "Is there something you know?"

"What is it?"

Ping’er had only heard the news that morning. She hesitated for a long time before deciding to tell Yao Yan. "The Third Young Mistress has become a nun."

"Ah?" Yao Yan froze, unable to react. After a heartbeat, she sat back down slowly and continued embroidering, her voice low. "Becoming a nun is for the best, so she won't have to suffer in the manor anymore."

Her reaction was unexpected; Ping’er had anticipated sadness or worry, not such calm indifference.

"How... how do you feel about it?"

Yao Yan bit off the thread after finishing the last stitch and didn't look up. "How am I supposed to feel? Was it the Third Young Mistress’s own idea, or someone else’s? Regardless of whose decision it was, it’s a done deal. I’m just a maid; could I possibly snatch her back?"

Ping’er watched her closely, and only after being certain there was no hidden emotion did she breathe a sigh of relief. "I felt uneasy carrying this secret. If I had known you would be like this, I wouldn't have been so anxious about telling you."

"Did the Third Young Mistress leave of her own accord?"

"The Second Master sent her away. It’s just outside the city, not far. The nunnery is quiet, and he even sent an old woman to look after her." Ping’er sat down beside her and sighed. "The nunnery isn't bad. She can chant and meditate every day, and she won't be bullied. I heard from Cui’er that the Third Young Mistress’s condition has improved quite a bit. When she left yesterday, she even knew enough to pay respects at Aunt Lu’s memorial tablet. It’s just a pity—the Third Young Mistress wanted to see her son, but they wouldn't allow it."

"As long as she’s better, that’s good," Yao Yan said, rubbing her sore neck and taking a sip of tea. "The Third Young Mistress has her own destiny, and I must find my own path. My time as her maid was short, but I remember her kindness. If there’s an opportunity in the future, I will go visit her."

It was the sixteenth day of the twelfth lunar month; there were fourteen days left until the New Year. Although the Old Mistress had stopped urging her openly, the excessive calm made Yao Yan uneasy.

Usually, the court granted officials a seven-day holiday for the New Year, but because the eldest master, Xiao Yuan, had seen a recurrence of an old ailment, the Emperor had granted him leave early.

That evening, Xiao Huai went to the side hall to dine. Yao Yan didn't want to sleep too early, so after washing up, she leaned against the daybed and opened the window to watch the snow.

The snowy night was moonless and exceptionally desolate. Yao Yan opened half the window and reached out to scoop up the snow on the sill, molding it into tiny snowmen. She lined them up by the window like guards.

It was late when Xiao Huai returned. His father’s back pain had been severe, requiring bed rest, and Xiao Huai had been there to serve him. He had inevitably been lectured again. Despite being a son who could not disobey his parents, he had still angered his father enough to be chased away.

Before he left, his mother had spoken of his marriage for the coming year, to which he had responded perfunctorily. The young lady from the Prime Minister’s household that his mother favored was not someone he desired; he hadn't even met her, and he felt no inclination toward the union.

He believed that if he were to marry, he must choose a woman with whom he shared mutual affection, so that his short life would not seem dull.

The main room still had its lights on. Thinking Yao Yan was waiting for him, Xiao Huai quickened his pace, only to find her slumped over the windowsill, fast asleep, with snow particles caught in her hair.

She must have only just fallen asleep; otherwise, she surely would have been woken by the cold.

Xiao Huai removed his cloak and helped her back to the daybed. Finding her fingertips icy, he cupped her hands in his own to warm them.

As he closed the window, he saw the little snowmen, each with its own silly, charming expression. He couldn't help but laugh softly and touch Yao Yan’s forehead.

He would be returning to Longyou after the New Year. He wondered what would become of this little maid once he was gone.

The woman’s hands in his were delicate, smooth, and soft. Xiao Huai toyed with her fingers, watching her quietly. He thought her foolish, yet inexplicably endearing.

He could not help but admit that in the moments when Yao Yan clumsily tried to please him, he had occasionally felt a stir of genuine desire.