Lang Huan, full of energy, spent her morning in the courtyard. Her sword flashed under the sunlight as she moved, each strike sharp and fierce. Before her, Xiao Bai darted around the garden, teasing his master with quick steps and a playful wag of his tail.
From the pavilion by the pond, the Eldest Princess sat gracefully in a light blue robe. Before her lay a sheet of white paper and a fine brush freshly dipped in ink. Her hand moved with calm precision, shaping each character in elegant strokes. Beside her, A Li patiently ground the ink stick on the stone slab, the faint fragrance of ink mingling with the morning breeze.
Now and then, Feng Yao's gaze drifted from her calligraphy, following Lang Huan's movements—her sword slicing the air in swift, fluid arcs, her body moving with the rhythm of freedom. A soft smile curved the princess's lips, though her eyes held a quiet mixture of admiration and unspoken affection.
A Li glanced toward the courtyard and said teasingly, "If only Young Master enjoyed reading or calligraphy, he would be perfect."
Feng Yao let out a faint laugh, her brush pausing above the paper. "If Lang Huan ever sat still," she said softly, "the world would surely become too quiet."
In the distance, Lang Huan's laughter rang through the courtyard—bright, free, and full of life.
Feng Yao watched from the pavilion. "My husband is still young and full of vigor," she said gently, setting her brush aside. "I don't want to push him to do something he dislikes. If he enjoys martial arts, then I will support him." Her voice carried the quiet understanding that comes from deep affection.
A Li chuckled as she finished grinding the ink. "Your Highness is also young—like a flower just about to bloom. Truly, Your Highness and our Consort are a match made in heaven," she said, her tone light but full of admiration.
Feng Yao couldn't help but laugh. "How could I possibly compare to someone ten years younger?" she said, shaking her head in amusement.
"Your Highness, your skin is flawless, without even the tiniest wrinkle! I always prepare your meals and herbal tonics with care. I promise, even twenty or thirty years from now, you'll still be the most beautiful woman in all of Great Qi." She lifted her thumb proudly toward the princess.
Feng Yao let out another laugh, pretending to glare at her maid. "A Li, if you flatter me any more, I'll write on your face." Yet even as she spoke, her smile bloomed like sunlight breaking through clouds.
By then, the sun had climbed higher, and the courtyard grew warm under its light. From the pavilion, Feng Yao called out, "Lang Huan, the sun's getting too hot!"
Lang Huan sheathed her sword and ran toward the pavilion, hair damp with sweat and cheeks flushed from training. The eldest princess reached out, lifting a silk handkerchief to gently wipe the sweat from Lang Huan's brow.
Feng Yao held up the sheet of calligraphy for Lang Huan to see. The characters were steady and elegant. "Is it good?" she asked.
Lang Huan nodded. "Very good," she said.
"Then show me your skill — let me see how well you write," the eldest princess challenged.
Lang Huan scratched the back of her head, suddenly sheepish. "It's been a long time since I wrote," she confessed. "I think I've forgotten how."
Her answer left the princess helpless; she didn't know whether to blame Su Qing for a faulty teaching method or the little brat for being lazy.
"Then start tomorrow. I'll teach you," Feng Yao decided.
Lang Huan's grin widened into a mischievous smile. "Could you really teach me?"
"Do you doubt my skill? Or would you rather be taught by Su Qing?" Feng Yao narrowed her eyes.
Lang Huan laughed, and before the tension could grow teeth, she wrapped her arms around Feng Yao. "It's not that — I'm just afraid you'll be impatient."
"If I were impatient, you'd have been dead in my hands more times than I can count."
Lang Huan leaned closer, cutting off Feng Yao's muttered complaints by sealing the princess's lips with a sudden kiss.
The boldness of it made Feng Yao freeze for a heartbeat before she pushed her away with a light punch to the shoulder, her cheeks tinged red. "You little brat," she huffed, pretending to be angry as she turned and strode toward her room.
From the side, A Li, who had been standing silently the whole time, struggled to keep from laughing. She pressed her lips together, shoulders trembling as she watched the two of them bicker like a pair of children rather than a princess and her consort.
Lang Huan quickly followed, catching up with Feng Yao just before she entered the room. "Your Highness, you shouldn't stay alone," she said with mock seriousness. "This place is haunted. I think a female ghost came into my dream last night."
The eldest princess turned back slowly, arching a brow. "You're the big ghost," she replied dryly.
"Your Highness has killed so many people — what if their spirits come looking for you tonight?" Lang Huan's lips curved as Feng Yao fell silent, convinced her trick had worked. "You're afraid, aren't you?" she teased.
Instead of answering, Feng Yao tiptoed closer and slipped her arms around Lang Huan's neck. Playing along with the act, she whispered, "Yes… so you'll have to stay with me. Don't go anywhere, keep me company."
Lang Huan's smile softened into something warmer as she nodded. "Alright," she murmured. "I'll protect you… right by your side."
---
As night fell, the lamps in the chamber burned softly, casting a warm glow across the silk screens. Following the Princess's order, the maids prepared a special bath for Lang Huan — water scented with flower petals and faint traces of sandalwood.
Lang Huan returned from her bath, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She paused at the sight before her. Princess Feng Yao sat at the edge of the bed, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, flowing down to her hips.
She wore only the sheer pink silk that Lang Huan loved so much, the fabric slipping from one shoulder to reveal the delicate line of her collarbone. The slender thigh caught the lamplight, her skin smooth and pale like carved jade.
Feng Yao closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Lang Huan's neck, pulling her close until their bodies aligned. "I want you to love me tonight."
In recent nights, her wife had been more passionate — leaving Lang Huan both warmed and bewildered. Yet as Feng Yao's gaze met hers, every question faded into silence.
Feng Yao helped her take off the middle garment, letting the soft fabric slip away.
A deep, possessive thrill ran through her as her gaze traced the landscape of the warrior's body, the faint scars telling silent tales of battles and survival.
To her eyes, that was a wild kind of beauty.
Slowly, Feng Yao slipped off her sheer silk, revealing the curves of her body, and whispered, "Do you like it?"
The sight of the Princess — now completely unveiled — and her question broke the last of Lang Huan's restraint, fueling her desire.
A faint blue light flickered in Lang Huan's eyes as she breathed, "I like it… I want you now."
She captured the Princess's lips in a searing kiss and guided her down onto the bed. Feng Yao closed her eyes and surrendered completely, letting Lang Huan dominate her body. No words were left — only the sounds of their shared passion and the rhythm of their breath.
In the midst of their shared pleasure, a familiar scent drifted into the room — the sleeping incense was burning again. Lang Huan's fingers, which had been moving deep inside Feng Yao's body, began to slow; she didn't understand why her wife kept using the sleeping incense.
"Lang Huan, don't stop — faster." Feng Yao's voice trembled, breathless. When she saw her lover's brow crease, she realized... the little brat was lost in thought. Not giving her a chance to think, she moved with the grace of a thousand-year-old fox spirit and began to seduce her.
She wrapped her arms around Lang Huan's neck, moving her hips against the fingers. A soft moan escaped her lips as she arched her back, her eyes fluttering half-closed with pleasure.
She gripped Lang Huan's shoulders as she reached her peak. It felt as if Feng Yao were pulling her soul away, her mind unable to form a single clear thought.
The woman beneath her ignited a fire in her body, yet she fought against the drowsiness creeping in… until her body finally collapsed onto Feng Yao's chest.
Feng Yao smiled and gently laid Lang Huan down to rest. She slipped off her jade bracelet and carefully opened the tiny compartment hidden within, replacing the powder with a fresh mixture to neutralize the lingering scent of the sleeping incense.
As usual, A Li came in to assist her bath. The old red marks on her body had not yet faded — and new ones had already been added.
---
The cold air of the prison basement wrapped around them as A Li led Feng Yao down the dim corridor. From the distance came a desperate cry — a girl's trembling voice echoing through the silence.
"Big brother! Help me… help me…" Xiao Lan's pleas were weak, yet they carried the sharp edge of fear.
When they entered the cell, Wu Ming was already waiting. A long couch covered with a fur blanket had been prepared. Feng Yao walked in silence; she signaled for Wu Ming and the others to leave.
Wu Ming hesitated, her throat tight with dread. Perhaps this would be Xiao Lan's final day. She lowered her gaze, unable to meet the Princess's eyes, and quietly withdrew.
Chains clinked softly. Xiao Lan's wrists were bound above her head, her small frame trembling under the cold draft.
"You old witch…" she spat, her voice shaking. "If my big brother saw me like this, he'd know how cruel you are — torturing someone as weak as me!"
Feng Yao's gaze fell first upon the girl's pink robes. Every time she wore that shade, Lang Huan would tell her how beautiful, how gentle she looked.
A faint bitterness curled in her chest. She wanted to tear those garments apart, to erase that color from her sight yet she restrained herself. Such filth wasn't worth dirtying her own hands.