“Your Highness, Master Song is here,” Chuan Ping announced from outside the tent, cupping his hands in a salute.
No sooner had he finished speaking than the heavy tent flap was abruptly swept aside. Song Chuyi saw a handsome young man in plain robes staring at her, his bearing as radiant as though the sun and moon had gathered in his embrace. Their eyes met. Song Chuyi was just about to speak when Zhao Yilou strode forward in two quick steps and suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace. His outer robe slipped from his shoulders and fell to the ground, but he did not seem to notice.
Song Chuyi could feel his body trembling ever so slightly. Coming back to herself, she gently raised a hand and patted his back.
Snow was falling heavily. Zhao Yilou clung to her as though a drowning man had seized a floating log, his arms squeezing so tightly that they hurt. Yet she did not push him away.
Chuan Ping stared at the two of them in astonishment for a long moment, but in the end, he merely lowered his head and said nothing, careful not to interrupt.
The light inside the lantern flickered in the wind, casting a warm glow over them both. Snow settled on their heads and shoulders, and in the blink of an eye, a white layer had covered them, as though they had grown old together in a single instant.
“I thought you were dead,” Zhao Yilou said softly, his voice carrying the distinctive huskiness of someone in the final stages of adolescence. It was already unmistakably masculine, and the beauty of his voice had a strangely sumptuous quality to it.
Song Chuyi felt a painful ache in her throat. She drew in a deep breath of the frigid air and gathered her thoughts. Only then did she notice that Zhao Yilou was wearing nothing but a thin robe. She patted him and said, “Let’s go inside first. We can talk there.”
“Mm.” Zhao Yilou answered and immediately turned to walk into the tent.
From behind, Song Chuyi could clearly see that the tips of his ears had flushed bright red. Presumably, now that the impulse had passed, he was feeling a little embarrassed about what he had just done.
White Blade, who had been thoroughly ignored, pawed at the snow a few times in displeasure before following Song Chuyi into the tent.
In the roughly six months since they had last parted, Zhao Yilou had grown a good two inches taller than Song Chuyi. The changes a boy underwent between sixteen and seventeen could be described as something new every day. Over these six months, he had gradually transformed from a slender, delicate youth into a robust young man. His features had grown more defined, and the lines of his face had become increasingly rugged. His brows swept diagonally towards his temples, framing the same clear eyes, bright as cold stars, whose slightest flicker could captivate the soul.
Song Chuyi patted his now considerably broader shoulder. “I’m so relieved. At least all that time I spent looking for you wasn’t in vain.”
Zhao Yilou assumed she was relieved because he had still been thinking of her. His eyes grew faintly moist, only for him to see her wipe away nonexistent tears with her sleeve before adding, “That face has certainly done me proud.”
“You could have kept that thought to yourself,” Zhao Yilou said with a frown.
Rather than taking the seat of honor, Zhao Yilou casually picked up two cushions and placed them beside the brazier, then sat down with Song Chuyi. Only then did he notice White Blade crouching beside her.
“You’re raising a wolf? It’s huge!”
Song Chuyi patted White Blade on the head. “That’s right. I went to Wey, then later to Qin. I happened to come across this little wolf cub on the way. I thought it was a lot like you, so I decided to raise it.”
Zhao Yilou’s handsome face darkened. He ignored Song Chuyi, got up, and fetched a plate of venison from the table. He warmed it over the fire and shared it with her, casually taking a few pieces to feed White Blade as well.
Song Chuyi had been travelling all night and was both cold and hungry. Seeing how enthusiastically Zhao Yilou was eating too, she couldn’t help saying, “You don’t need to eat as well, do you?”
“Why shouldn’t I? I’m hungry too.” If he hadn’t learned the hard way what it meant to go hungry, Zhao Yilou wouldn’t have made a habit of keeping food on hand in his quarters.
“Eat a little less.” Song Chuyi slapped his hand away.
“Mm.” Zhao Yilou actually stopped eating, but continued feeding White Blade without pause.
As a result, White Blade, who normally wanted nothing to do with strangers, seemed to have finally found a long-lost family member. It promptly forgot all about Song Chuyi.
After all, Song Chuyi had never been so generous with the venison.
“Eating, eating, eating! You haven’t done a single thing, yet you have the nerve to eat so much. Have you no shame at all?”
Song Chuyi glared at White Blade, whose licking had left the plate so clean that not even a trace of grease remained, and gave it an annoyed tap on the head.
White Blade whimpered pitifully.
Zhao Yilou watched in amazement and cautiously reached out to stroke its head. “It’s remarkably docile.”
Longgu Buwang usually did nothing but bully White Blade, so when Zhao Yilou offered it comfort while it was being scolded, the wolf immediately rubbed its head against his hand in an attempt to curry favor.
“What a heartless ingrate! You have absolutely no principles!” Song Chuyi glared at it.
Zhao Yilou ignored her and continued praising the wolf. “I’ve never seen a wolf so gentle and so attuned to human feelings. Truly extraordinary.”
“My lord, shall I have another plate brought in?” Chuan Ping finally found an opportunity to speak.
“Very well,” Zhao Yilou replied.
Song Chuyi laughed and gave Zhao Yilou a playful slap. His wild nature had not faded in the slightest. He still regarded Chuan Ping with the wary gaze of a beast constantly on guard. Yet perhaps because he was so exceptionally handsome, Song Chuyi found nothing uncouth about his expression. On the contrary, she thought it lent him a distinctive air of authority.
Zhao Yilou fetched a bucket of water from beside the tent wall, poured it into a basin, and pushed it towards Song Chuyi. He still remembered her habit of washing up before going to sleep.
Once they had both cleaned themselves up, Chuan Ping brought in another plate of meat.
“My lord, we’ve run out of venison. This is wild boar.”
“Mm.” Zhao Yilou nodded.
Chuan Ping cupped his hands in a salute. “I’ll take my leave, then. If you need anything, my lord, just send someone to summon me.”
“Mm,” Zhao Yilou replied.
Chuan Ping sighed inwardly. He had been sent by the Wu family to get close to Zhao Yilou, but even after a full fortnight, Zhao Yilou still regarded him with the same wariness. Most of his replies were just like the one he’d given moments ago: a single word.
The one thing that offered Chuan Ping some consolation was that although Hua Rongjian had also been trying hard to build a closer relationship with Zhao Yilou, Zhao Yilou had yet to say even a single word to him either. And just now, despite the fact that Hua Rongjian had been the one to inform him that Song Huaijin was coming, Zhao Yilou had turned to Chuan Ping instead to make his request.
It was the first time Zhao Yilou had ever asked him to do something. So even though he knew perfectly well that doing so would anger Gongzi Fan, he had gone without hesitation. It was also a chance to drag Hua Rongjian into the mess and earn Gongzi Fan’s resentment towards him. The risk was worth taking.
“It’s not dawn yet. I’m going to rest for a little while.” Song Chuyi had spent the entire night out in the howling wind and blizzard, and now every part of her body ached. Although their reunion after such a long separation had left her with little desire to sleep, she really did need some rest.
“Come on.” Without giving it much thought, Zhao Yilou led her to his bed.
Song Chuyi took off her cloak and outer robe, then slipped smoothly beneath the covers. There was still a trace of warmth left inside. She shivered with contentment, then patted the space beside her. “What are you sitting there for? Lie down.”
At her words, Zhao Yilou took off his shoes and climbed into bed.
Song Chuyi rolled over, and the first thing she saw was Zhao Yilou’s flawlessly handsome profile. His black, satin-like hair spilled from his shoulders onto the white jade pillow, set off by his cheeks, which were growing redder by the minute. It was truly a sight of exquisite beauty.
So beautiful that, for the first time, Song Chuyi couldn’t bring herself to reach out and ruin it with her claws.
“What are you blushing for? It’s not as though we’ve never slept together before,” Song Chuyi said with a pout.
“Mind your own business!” Zhao Yilou rolled over, turning his back to her. He had blushed that time, too, but it had been so dark, and they had both been in such a filthy, disheveled state, that Song Chuyi hadn’t noticed.
“Hey.” Song Chuyi poked him.
Without turning around, Zhao Yilou slapped her hand away. “Keep your hands to yourself. I can hear you perfectly well.”
Song Chuyi gritted her teeth. Fine. Since you’re so beautiful, I’ll forgive you.
“How did they find you?”
