13. The Night Watch Drags, Feelings Run Deep

Chapter 13. The Night Deepens with Lingering Affection

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her fair, swan-like neck flushed a delicate pink from tension: "Not like that... there are other ways..."

"But what if I insist?" His fingers brushed the loose strands of hair from her ear, continuing, "Why'd you call me 'husband' today?"

Gu Yuanzhi frowned and closed her eyes, her lips pressed into a helpless line, "Because I was afraid your cover would be blown, so I said it."

"Is it because your honor, your very life, now hangs on me alone?" His eyes wandered as his thumb traced her collarbone.

"Whatever you think, I think..." Her hands were limp, but she still stubbornly pushed him away.

That only riled him up. He grabbed both her wrists in one big hand, with a grip she couldn't fight.

His other hand slid to her back, finding the ties and undoing her clothes one by one.

"Why are you so cold to me after just one meeting with General Mei?"

He narrowed his eyes, remembering how she'd sat with Mei Zhi on that horse—so close and easy, no fear like she had with him, all real.

"No... I've always respected you..." Gu Yuanzhi's mind was a mess, torn between begging and just bearing it. Pleading would only make him want her more.

She had no clue what he was thinking. All she ever felt for him was cold distance and fear.

His teasing made her tremble as she leaned back on the desk. She accidentally bumped the table, and the incense burner on it tipped over.

The soothing incense slowly faded.

Xu Hanyun had dealt with chronic headaches for years—an old condition he kept in check with that incense. When it flared up, the pain was brutal.

And today, he hadn't taken his medicine yet.

It felt like a slick, venomous snake was slithering in his skull. He yanked his hand out of her clothes, his throat working hard.

One hand on the desk, the other pressed to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowed as pain hit him.

The pressure on her was gone. Seeing him like this, she froze, then slowly reached out, her hand hovering near his sleeve, afraid to touch. She leaned in and asked carefully, "Lord Xu, are you okay?"

He didn't answer, just breathed out in short gasps. His already pale face turned a sickly, glassy shade. A thin sweat broke out on his forehead, like silver needles were stabbing and twisting in his head.

Seeing that, she fixed her clothes and turned to go find the servants outside. But before she could step out, he called after her.

"Don't go."

He spun to grab her at the door, his sleeve knocking the porcelain cup and inkstone off the desk, sending them crashing to the floor.

The shards landed at her feet, slicing through the white silk socks in her embroidered shoes, and a few streaks of blood seeped out.

She was terrified by the look of him—she'd never seen him lose it like this. She stumbled back a few steps, not even thinking to check her ankle.

He dropped onto the couch, hand on his forehead as he looked up. His eyes were like ancient, frozen ice, barely holding back the pain and rage. He said low, "Come here."

Before she could run, he lunged, grabbed her thin wrist, and pulled her in. The touch made her whole body shake.

"Let go of me!" She tried to pull away, but he already had her locked tight in his arms.

That bitter feeling rose in her throat again. It was always like this—from prison to exile, from the post station to Yangzhou, every step was his doing, every move at his whim.

He held her tight, lifted her, and dropped her onto the couch, her long, straight legs draped over his knee.

She braced her hands on the couch, pushing herself up, "Lord Xu, this cut's nothing, you don't need to..."

He grabbed her thin ankle and slowly pulled off the silk sock, revealing a small cut.

A light blush spread over her face. Her small, pearl-like toes curled and uncurled nervously under his dark, heavy stare.

He asked, voice rough, "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing." Compared to this tiny cut, Xu Hanyun was way scarier.

He dabbed some cool ointment on his finger and rubbed it gently on her ankle. His gentle touch left her confused and on edge.

"Do you get headaches, my lord?" She chose her words carefully, scared of setting him off. "I... I just asked 'cause I saw you in so much pain. Didn't mean anything by it."

He pulled his hand back, voice rough: "I've had these headaches for years. Whenever it rains, or there's any dampness, they act up."

"It all stems from when I was five, during the Yellow River flood, when my family fled south to escape the disaster." His gaze grew distant, lost in memory.

Gu Yuanzhi felt a pang of unease but dared not interrupt, listening quietly.

"That year, the Yellow River's waters were cold and murky, sweeping everything away... I clung to a tree trunk and watched my father drown in the surging waves." His voice was calm. "And all of this was because the Yellow River governor embezzled funds and failed in his flood control duties."

"My lord, you..." Gu Yuanzhi pressed her lips together, unsure how to comfort him.

She had never heard him speak of these things. She only knew he came from humble origins, but not that he had endured such a tragic past.

"That day you said I treat lives like grass—that's not true. It's just that I've seen too much life and death." He said indifferently, "After the flood came plague, leaving villages empty. Take this land embezzlement case—you gave an old woman a hairpin, which might save her for a moment, but it can't save the thousands upon thousands like her."

What he said was true. Her kindness was too feeble in the face of real suffering, yet she refused to be lectured.

"Indeed, I cannot save everyone in the world," she met his gaze, her apricot eyes clear and bright, "but I cannot stand by and do nothing. Just as you, my lord, as an official, have tried countless cases but cannot right every injustice in the world—does that mean you should abandon your duty to punish evil and uphold justice?"

Xu Hanyun's gaze sharpened slightly, moved by her words: "As you say, I do my utmost to impeach corrupt officials and rectify governance, precisely because I don't want to see the tragedy of the Yellow River repeat itself. One official's corruption means tens of thousands of displaced people behind it. Only by uprooting the evil can we end the scourge forever."

Gu Yuanzhi had thought him a heartless, ruthless official, but she hadn't expected him to harbor such ambitions.

She ventured, "Though I am but a woman, I have read a few years of books and am somewhat literate. If my lord doesn't mind, I would like to help you investigate the case."

There was a long silence, so long that Gu Yuanzhi thought he would refuse, before he finally responded.

"You're a pampered young lady from a noble family—can you endure hardship?" Xu Hanyun said flatly.

"After everything I've been through, how can I be compared to who I was before?" She laughed self-deprecatingly. So he still held his prejudices.

His palm pressed against her back, lifting her gently to sit across his lap.

"Hmm, Qing Yun is right." He answered ambiguously, burying his face in the hollow of her neck. "Don't move. Let me lean on you for a while—my head is starting to ache again."

Her wrist froze, but in the end, she lowered it, gently wrapping her arm around his back.

"Is there any way... to make you feel better?" She asked despite herself.

Xu Hanyun did not answer, only held her tighter.

"I'll sing you a song." Gu Yuanzhi said hesitantly. When she was little and sick or in pain, her mother would hold her and sing Suzhou lullabies to lull her to sleep.

When he didn't respond, she cleared her throat and began to sing a Jiangnan folk song.

"The crescent moon shines over the nine lands, some families rejoice, others grieve..."

A lilting melody spilled from her lips, steeped in the misty damp of Jiangnan, like a fine drizzle pattering on dark tiles, soft and sweet as freshly brewed rice wine, soaking into his withered heart.

The chafing ache inside him was smoothed away, and a hint of her feminine scent clung to his cold, lifeless frame.

Her breath seeped into him, thread by thread, like freshly shelled lotus seeds, sweet and succulent lychees—one taste and you'd be hooked, lost in indulgence.

She patted his back gently, losing track of how long she'd been singing, until she felt the man in her arms breathing slowly deepen and even out.

Gu Yuanzhi's singing trailed off as she looked down—he'd fallen asleep against her.

She'd never seen him like this—caught between sleep and waking, stripped of his daytime coldness and gloom, his features peaceful and calm, clear and bright as the moon.

But her hatred still burned, her shame not yet washed away. Her feelings churned, and she couldn't sort them out.

She'd treat it as charity. In this vast sea of life, a moment of mercy isn't out of place.

She tried to push him off and settle him onto the couch. But the instant her hand moved, his eyes snapped open.

His eyes were bloodshot, churning with dark depths.

"My lord, I thought you'd fallen asleep..." Gu Yuanzhi said, flustered.

"You sing beautifully," Xu Hanyun said, his voice light, his fingertip pressing her soft lips, his gaze growing darker and more unsettling. "Keep singing."

Fear prickled through her. His fingers grazed her throat—not in praise, but in judgment.

Wasn't this years of torment, this suffering carved into his bones, all her fault? It was her. It was the Gu family. The lofty, haughty aristocratic clans.

That day, he'd carried his mother's coffin out of the city in mourning white, while her wedding music rang through Gusu.

And now she looked at him with pity—how absurd.

But why... why did it have to be her who gave him this moment of peace?

His palm slid slowly up her smooth, shapely leg, leaving shivers in its wake.

"You can't... do this..." Each breath she took was a fragile plea, helpless and resigned.

His cold, handsome face leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear: "Didn't you say you wanted to repay me? This is far from enough."

Her hands, resting on his shoulders, were brushed aside by his large palms and fell limply onto the couch.

She lay on her back, gazing up at the man hovering over her, trembling slightly, and managed to speak through the gaps between his kisses: "Lord Xu, do you think I did something wrong today, to deserve this treatment?"

He replied, "No, you did nothing wrong."

But she feared his unpredictable moods—one moment showing a hint of humanity, the next turning cold and fierce.

On her snow-white skin lingered ambiguous fingerprints and red marks, while his dark eyes churned like storm-laden clouds before rain, as if he wanted to devour her bit by bit.

His warm hand closed around her slender neck, his lips and teeth latching onto her delicate skin, sucking out a sweet and delicious taste.

Gu Yuanzhi felt a sharp sting at the side of her neck, but the man pressing down on her was impossible to push away.

Slowly, it was as if her very soul was being ground to pieces, drifting to who knows where.

She was split into two halves—one numb and hollow, the other burning with fire and drowning in pleasure.

Their temperatures intertwined and overlapped, flesh pressed against flesh, yet their hearts were separated by mountains and rivers.

The moon had risen past the willow tips, the dying candle couldn't dim the night's lingering passion, the water clock dripped slow, and desire ran deep.