You really are Heaven-sent to plague me
“Princess!” Jing Bai warned, anxious they’d be overtaken by the elder princess’s riders.
Li Xinyue frowned, weighing the rising heat beneath her palm. When the pain in his grip nudged at her resolve, she made a quick decision. “Do exactly as I say.”
“Even if the elder princess gives chase, she’s at least half an hour behind us. She won’t catch up—unless something goes terribly wrong.”
“Jing Bai, get a few men and carry the prince into the inn. Drive our carriage as far away as you can, then buy another one. Leave no trail.”
Jing Bai understood immediately and set about it.
But Chu Junyi lay unconscious, his mind muddled. Apart from clutching her hand like a drowning man, he was gone. The palace guards moved forward to help, but with one of his hands still locked around Li Xinyue, how could they maneuver him?
She let out a soft sigh and decided to support him herself, instructing the guards only to steady him. They staggered into the inn with more drama than grace. No sooner had they settled inside than a violent thunderstorm broke, rain lashing down as if the sky itself had split. They were nearly soaked through.
Thank heavens.
But the elder princess and her party were not as lucky. They’d just left the city when the storm caught them. Drenched and thunder-struck, the horses panicked; riders were thrown, some trampled. The scene devolved into chaos.
…
“Chu Junyi?”
In the private room Li Xinyue found herself braced against the door. The guards had withdrawn; it was just the two of them. He did nothing but cling to her, not speaking, not moving. She worried he might suddenly collapse and hurt himself, so she reached out to steady him.
His hand tightened, and her heart began to race from the intimacy of it, though concern furrowed her brow. “Chu Junyi, are you awake?”
A strong arm slid slowly around her waist. His head rested on her shoulder; his breath was shallow. “Yue’er… it hurts. It hurts so much. Hold me.”
Her arms threaded under his, looping around his waist. She closed her eyes and let one warm tear fall. “You’ve suffered enough. Get through this, and I’ll grant you one thing—any condition you want. Promise.”
“Mm.” His face contorted in pain.
After the sutures, the pain came in waves—like a storm crashing back against him. For a moment he’d wanted only oblivion, but the softness pressed to him kept that thought at bay.
“I’ll help you onto the bed. Doctor Le will be here soon—he can save you.” Li Xinyue patted his arm with an unexpected tenderness.
“Mm.”
Doctor Le arrived in a flurry, opened his kit and withdrew a pack of silver needles. He located the points and drove the pins in. Chu Junyi exhaled a choking breath; the agony eased a fraction, then he slipped back toward unconsciousness.
Li Xinyue’s chest sank. She called his name instinctively—an uneasy, fierce premonition thrummed through her that this sleep might be his last. “Chu Junyi, hold on!”
“Has Her Highness lost her wits?” Even with his eyes closed, Chu Junyi managed a faint, crooked smile. Pain still warped his features. “To be favored by Your Highness—that would be enough for me.”
“Chu Junyi!” Her voice broke. Fear snapped her forward; she dropped to her knees and kissed his lips, trembling, tears wet on her face. She nibbled them in an attempt to anchor him. “You have to hold on.”
Doctor Le’s words returned to her in a rush: “He may now run a fever. If he can weather that, then we’ll be truly out of danger.” The idea of a fever that could take him filled her with a cold, frantic dread. If he didn’t make it… she couldn’t imagine loving anyone again.
“All right. Don’t cry,” Chu Junyi murmured, too weak to return the kiss properly. Regret and satisfaction mingled in his voice.
“Prepare a medicinal bath. Your Highness, help him out of his clothes.” Doctor Le packed away the needles and bent to write a prescription.
Li Xinyue caught the urgency in his terse instructions and felt the gravity of the situation deepen. She shed the last of her embarrassment and, hands steady despite everything, began to strip him. Even so, when her eyes drifted to places she shouldn’t peek and caught sight of skin, heat crept up her neck.
Steam rose from the bathroom a short while later, thick and fogging the air. The heat pressed in, making her sweat; she kept one hand on a folding fan and the other never left his body. Outside, the storm hammered the roof and the yard in a steady drum.
She loosened her collar a little—there was no one to admire her, and the room’s fog blurred intention anyway.
By then the elder princess had realized she’d been duped. If the report had been genuine, she’d have ridden hard and caught the carriage—there was no sense in failing to find even a footprint. Sensing a trap, she turned her horse around and rode straight back to the capital to plead with the emperor.
Outside the inn the rain and mist concealed another approaching party. The Wei family had ears in the town; Li Xinyue’s carriage had passed through and they’d been tipped off.
“Your Highness, the Weis have surrounded the inn. They demand the prince amend the judgment.” Hongxiu’s voice floated through the fog as she reported.
The mention of the Wei family sharpened Li Xinyue. She tightened the collar and flared with fury. “The prince is too ill to move—how can they expect him to alter the judgment? They’ve got bold faces, thinking they can stab me in the back! Teach them a lesson!”
Hongxiu bowed and stepped back.
Soon swords clanged downstairs—hilts meeting in the darkness. Li Xinyue put down her fan and leaned on the tub’s rim, watching rather than worrying. The princess’s guards were elite; they’d handle intruders. Her real fear was whether Chu Junyi would survive.
Her thoughts drifted back to the kiss, to the tangled warmth they’d shared on the bed, and a familiar hunger rose again. She resisted for a while, skirting between duty and desire, but the taste had already been on her tongue. While he slept she bent forward and pressed her lips to the steaming warmth of his mouth, sucking gently as if memorizing him. A playful bite followed.
If she weren’t holding to a code—if it weren’t wrong to take advantage of a patient—she might have crossed a line. But restraint kept her from more. Still, the thought teased her.
She stroked his hair, fingertips tapping his crown as if testing the softness. In her eyes, he was a well-loved doll: malleable, warm, a private little object that could be rolled and squeezed to her amusement.