Chapter 53: Jinling City (22)
Xiao Fu was momentarily dazed by that smile.
Lin Zikui didn’t often call him “Xiao Lang.” Most of the time, it was just “wife” or “Zhao Ling.”
As if, by calling him “wife” and “Zhao Ling,” he could somehow cover up Xiao Fu’s gender.
Unable to resist, Xiao Fu sat down on the floor of the carriage and cradled Lin Zikui’s head in his lap. Lin Zikui didn’t move at all, letting him do as he pleased. His smooth hair draped over Xiao Fu’s body, and the sharp tip of his chin nestled into the hollow between Xiao Fu’s thighs.
Xiao Fu’s fingers slipped through the strands of his hair, and in a gentle, quiet voice, he asked, “Why are you lying on the floor like this?”
Jinzun, “Young Master Lin said… the floor is cooler.”
Xiao Fu’s voice turned suddenly cold. “I wasn’t asking you. Get out.”
Jinzun’s eyes widened. He threw a punch and shattered the side window of the carriage with a loud crash, then leapt out.
Yuanqing just shook his head.
Lin Zikui turned his head slightly and called, “Jinzun.”
“No need to worry about him,” Xiao Fu said, shifting Lin Zikui’s head back to face him. He looked down at the flushed corners of Lin Zikui’s eyes and cheeks. “He’s skilled enough. Probably snuck off to play. And besides, he let you drink, didn’t he? I specifically warned him not to. You know exactly what you’re like after drinking—how dare you still drink?”
Lin Zikui looked up at him and asked, “What am I like after I drink?”
For a moment, Xiao Fu didn’t know how to respond.
“…You make me want to eat you up.”
Lin Zikui gazed into his eyes. “Eat me?”
“Exactly. Eat you.” Xiao Fu leaned down, but it was awkward at this angle. He needed Lin Zikui to cooperate to kiss him, and Lin Zikui was too dazed to do that. So Xiao Fu’s kiss only landed on the top of his head—like a feather drifting down.
He whispered, “Like this.”
“Oh… like this. That’s fine. Then go ahead and eat.” Lin Zikui thought to himself, I just washed my hair—it’s clean. If he wants to nibble, let him nibble.
Xiao Fu let out a helpless sigh and gave his head a rub. “The wine at Prince Shuo Residence was that strong, and you still dared to drink it?” It was much stronger than the wine at their wedding.
“I didn’t want to,” Lin Zikui murmured. He was tired, his whole weight sinking into Xiao Fu’s legs. “But it was Prince Shuo…”
“What about Prince Shuo? Tomorrow I’ll chop off his head!”
“Shhh… keep your voice down. Don’t talk big.” Lin Zikui scolded him softly. “I didn’t dare offend him. He’s the teacher’s friend. Besides, he didn’t give me a hard time—it’s just that I’m useless. We played drinking games. I drank two cups and couldn’t handle it anymore, so I just kept eating the food afterward.” Lin Zikui closed his eyes quietly and sighed. “Is that what being an official is like? It’s exhausting… all that flattery.”
He couldn’t flatter anyone. There were high-ranking ministers, dukes, and marquises at the banquet. If Lin Zikui had just lowered himself and flattered a little, he would have been recognized and naturally found his way forward. But when he thought about his “wife”—how he lived in her house, ate her food—he felt ashamed. He was tempted to take a shortcut.
But it was too humiliating. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he didn’t.
Xiao Fu told him, “Being an official isn’t always like that. And you don’t need to be that way.”
Lin Zikui kept muttering, “Teacher probably just wanted to pave the way for me, that’s why he sent me to deliver the letter. With his name, maybe people would take a second look at me. But I couldn’t seize the chance.”
Prince Shuo had even invited him to move in, but Lin Zikui hadn’t wanted to. First, it felt wrong; second, he had to go home—he wanted to see his wife.
He felt a tickle on his cheek—some strands of hair had fallen there. Lin Zikui couldn’t be bothered to brush it off with his hand, so he simply turned his face and rubbed it against Xiao Fu’s leg to get the strands off. Then he exhaled a warm breath.
Xiao Fu had been listening to him all this time, feeling a dull ache in his chest. His husband had suffered so much. Why did he have to bow his head and cater to that old turtle Prince Shuo? But then, when Lin Zikui rubbed against him like that, Xiao Fu’s throat tightened suddenly. His fingers slid into that messy hair, and he pressed his fingertips down.
Lin Zikui didn’t understand what was happening. The pressure on his scalp felt nice, and his eyes narrowed to slits as he let out a few indistinct murmurs.
Xiao Fu inhaled deeply, his voice now hoarse. “Who was at the banquet at Prince Shuo’s place today?” He wanted to remember—one by one, he’d deal with them later.
“There were a lot…” Lin Zikui listed them one by one. “Count Zhongyong, Marquis Qi…”
Xiao Fu sneered, “A bunch of rats from the same hole.”
Lin Zikui continued, “And also Duke Chang.”
Xiao Fu: “?”
Lin Zikui sighed, “I heard he’s the father of the Prince Regent.”
Xiao Fu, “…Even Duke Chang made you uncomfortable?”
“No, I didn’t even speak to him. Only that heir, the Young Heir—he kept trying to get close to me. I don’t know why…”
“Which Young Heir? The one with the surname Yan?”
“I think so. How did you know?” Lin Zikui opened his eyes again.
“Duke Chang and the Yan family are related by marriage. If you’re talking about the Young Heir, then it must be Young Master Yan. How did he try to get close to you?”
“He gave me some melon seeds—look.” Lin Zikui fumbled around in his chest and pulled out a handkerchief. Xiao Fu took it, but something felt off. Wrapped inside the soft silk wasn’t the coarse texture of melon seed shells.
“These aren’t melon seeds,” Xiao Fu said as he unfolded the cloth. Inside lay a crumpled red peony, its petals shifting from pink to deep red. Pressed against his chest, the flower had been flattened.
At first, Xiao Fu froze in surprise, then turned to look at him. “Lin Lang, this is a peony. Was it meant for me?”
Lin Zikui let out a confused “Eh?” and tilted his head slightly. When he saw the red peony, he suddenly remembered. “Prince Shuo… invited me for a stroll in the garden. I saw the flower and thought it was pretty, and I plucked it without thinking. Then he turned around and looked at me, and I instinctively hid it in my sleeve.”
The flowers in his garden had just begun to bloom—how could he have picked one already?
Xiao Fu chuckled, “Then I’ll accept it.”
“No, don’t—” Lin Zikui raised his hand, his eyes seeing double. He couldn’t reach the handkerchief in Xiao Fu’s hand and just waved around aimlessly. “That one’s not pretty anymore. I’ll pick you a nicer one later.”
“I want this one too. And the nice ones you’ll pick later.” Xiao Fu took his hand and urged Yuanqing, “Hurry, let’s go home.”
The carriage sped up, its wheels jolting more violently. Lin Zikui kept bouncing against Xiao Fu’s chest. Xiao Fu, annoyed now, scooped him up the moment the carriage stopped.
By that point, Lin Zikui had nearly fallen asleep.
The gatekeeper opened the door. “My lord has returned.”
Mo Liu, who had been anxiously waiting, also stood up.
“Young Master!”
Lin Zikui was woken up by the call. He murmured, “Mo Liu… have you eaten yet?”
Mo Liu glanced at how his young master was carried by Miss Xiao and stared at him for a moment longer. That robe… looked like an official’s uniform…
But the night was dark. He couldn’t see clearly, and he couldn’t make sense of it, so he quickly averted his gaze. “Young Master, why are you just getting back now? You didn’t take me with you, so I waited… waited a long time.”
Lin Zikui asked, “You haven’t eaten, have you?”
Mo Liu nodded. “I had a piece of cake. I’ll go eat something else now. I’ll also go boil some water and prepare your foot bath.”
Mo Liu was an attendant, not a servant. Lin Zikui only drank on rare occasions—mostly at the wedding—so Mo Liu knew how particular Young Master was about cleanliness. He made a habit of boiling water daily so Lin Zikui could soak his feet.
There was already warm water cooling in the pot. Mo Liu dipped a finger into it—just the right temperature.
He struggled to carry in two buckets of water, but Yuanqing reached out and took them from him. “Let me do it. You can’t carry them.”
Yuanqing walked to the door and knocked.
A voice answered from inside—Marquis Xiao’s: “Who is it?”
Yuanqing replied, “It’s me, master. The hot water is here. Should I also prepare some for Young Master Lin to bathe?”
“He’s tired. No need for a bath. Just bring the water in.”
Yuanqing carried a bucket in each hand, a copper basin balanced on his head. He nudged the door open with his knee and stepped inside.
Just inside the door was a Suzhou-style embroidered screen, decorated with a scene of rivers and mountains. Only beyond the screen was the spacious bed chamber.
With lowered eyes and a respectful demeanor, Yuanqing entered. He set down the copper basin and poured in the water. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his lord bent over, removing Lin Zikui’s shoes and socks.
Yuanqing knew the Marquis adored him, but even so, seeing it up close still startled him.
So he quickly turned around. “Master, I’ll close the door for you.”
Outside, the night was filled with the chirping of crickets.
Lin Zikui lay on the bed, completely silent.
Xiao Fu carried the copper basin over, dipped his hand into it to test the temperature, and only then gently took hold of Lin Zikui’s ankles and placed his feet in.
The water covered Lin Zikui’s calves halfway up. The warmth was just right, comforting, and he didn’t move—still asleep.
Xiao Fu glanced at him, then sat down to wash his feet. At first, he had felt a little strange about it—it wasn’t something he’d ever done before.
But once he touched them, the motions came naturally. It all felt so right. He rubbed his toes, then his heels, then the arches of his feet. When he was done, he cradled the wet feet against his dark, dragon-embroidered robe.
The towel he had used earlier to wipe Lin Zikui’s face was still nearby. Xiao Fu grabbed it and carefully dried Lin Zikui’s feet. Then he tucked him under the covers and tossed the towel aside.
The bedding had already been changed for summer. The bamboo mat beneath was cool to the touch, its oiled surface polished smooth and glossy.
Xiao Fu loosened his robe, flicked his fingers to snuff out the candle, and climbed into bed.
He pulled Lin Zikui into his arms. Lin Zikui had his back turned, and Xiao Fu leaned close to his ear and called him once, but Lin Zikui didn’t respond.
“Drunk, but no bad habits—just talks more than usual and his mind turns slower,” Xiao Fu murmured softly. As he guided Lin Zikui’s hand over, he tried to restrain himself—he had been holding back for a long time, thinking he could just endure it… but in the end, he couldn’t. His large palm brushed aside Lin Zikui’s underclothes, and he teased him from the outside. After just a quarter of an hour, Xiao Fu reached for a towel at the foot of the bed, gave a casual wipe, then tossed it far off to the side and simply held him to sleep.
With his teacher away, Lin Zikui didn’t need to attend lessons.
But every day, at the hour of the Rabbit, he still woke up on his own.
Still drowsy, he turned over and found himself face-to-face with Xiao Fu.
“Wife…” Lin Zikui vaguely recalled the events of the previous night.
Yuanqing had come to fetch him from Prince Shuo Residence. On the way back, they ran into Zhao Ling—Zhao Ling had also come looking for him. They had talked for quite a while, but Lin Zikui couldn’t remember what exactly had been said. He only remembered getting home and having a dream—a spring dream. That much he remembered, but the details escaped him completely. He did feel like his underclothes were a little damp, and his thighs too… could it be…?
Feeling awkward, he was about to get up and clean himself when Zhao Ling, lying face-to-face with him, also opened his eyes.
Xiao Fu needed to rise soon anyway—to attend court.
Becoming the Prince Regent had cured his long-standing laziness.
He slowly opened his eyes and saw Lin Zikui bent over, quietly moving around on the bed looking for clothes. He asked, “Did you forget? Your teacher is still in Huainan. Don’t you still need to return there for class?”
“No, no—it’s not that. Why are you awake? I was just… just going to the toilet. I’m looking for, um, my trousers.”
Xiao Fu saw that he was still half-asleep, his dark hair slightly messy, and his guilty, slightly flushed expression. He propped himself up on one elbow and said, “What’s wrong with your trousers?”
Lin Zikui didn’t dare admit they might be soiled. He quickly found them and turned away to change. Xiao Fu remained lying there, then suddenly remembered—
Ah. That had been his own fault. It had… spilled.
Should he tell Lin Lang?
Forget it… better not. Otherwise Lin Zikui might insist on sleeping fully clothed next time.
At the break of dawn, the plantain trees outside the window shimmered a fresh green. Xiao Fu changed into a casual robe, while Lin Zikui also dressed neatly, though his heart was still filled with regret. Seeing Xiao Fu ready to leave, he was momentarily stunned. “You’re going out again today?”
It was court, but Xiao Fu didn’t want to say that. He shook his head and replied, “The child is sick and clung to me, begged me to stay last night. He wouldn’t let me go. It’s the little fourth one—you met him once. His father passed, and just a few days ago, his mother too. He fell ill afterward.”
“Little Fourth?” Lin Zikui remembered immediately. He hadn’t seen clearly back then, just recalled holding a very small, soft child.
“Then… then let me go with you to visit him.” Lin Zikui went back inside and threw on a light robe and draped Ai Dai over his head. “Is it serious?”
“It’s quite serious, but Third Brother prescribed medicine. Nothing life-threatening. Lin Lang, you stay here at the residence. Have the cook make something tasty. I’ll bring him back at noon for lunch so you can see him.”
“Bring him here?” Lin Zikui shook his head. He already guessed the real reason—Zhao Ling didn’t want to bring him home. Though his heart felt heavy, he kept his expression calm. “The child’s sick; better not tire him out. I’ll stay in and read. Are you coming back for lunch? If you are, I’ll leave food. If not, I won’t.”
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