Chapter 18
First, it was “Yu Meiren,” and now it was “Lady Yu.” Yan Yunhe’s habit of teasing Yu Qin remained unchanged, as if the last ten years hadn’t passed at all.
However, Yan Yunhe knew someone as vindictive as Yu Qin would never let it slide.
As he intended, Yu Qin turned to look at him. Or rather, his eyes swept over Yan Yunhe’s face, damp hair, and exposed chest, scrutinizing him with intense focus—as if Yan Yunhe were a rare beast being examined for the health of its fur and the firmness of its flesh. Being sized up like this was deeply unsettling. There was no trace of emotion in those eyes; they did nothing more than observe.
Yan Yunhe felt his skin crawl, as if Yu Qin’s gaze were a sharp blade about to dissect his body, probing for any differences between his organs and those of ordinary mortals.
“Enough. Stop staring,” he pleaded.
Yu Qin did not stop staring. Instead, he said slowly, “Your body is quite strong, Lord Yan, to have endured so many wounds.” He raised a finger and pointed at the inch-long scar on Yan Yunhe’s chest. “Had it been my blade, you wouldn’t be sitting here today.”
Talk about holding a grudge. All I did was call him a lady, Yan Yunhe thought bitterly, discreetly pulling his robes up to cover the scars and avoid further snide remarks from Yu Qin.
He finished dressing, dried his hair with a towel, and lay down on the bed. Only then did he begin to wonder where Yu Qin would sleep tonight. Surely not next to him.
Yu Qin called for more water and bathed, after which he unexpectedly came out fully clothed. He stood by the bed and signaled with his gaze for Yan Yunhe to make room.
This was something Yan Yunhe never imagined even in his wildest dreams. Yu Qin was actually going to share a bed with him?! Did his teasing have such a powerful effect that Yu Qin stopped keeping his distance and decided to take the initiative, all to prove he wasn’t being dramatic?
But now Yan Yunhe was the dramatic one. He lay motionless, firmly rooted to his spot. “Why don’t you just find somewhere else to sleep, like you did at Yuanlai Inn?”
Yuanlai Inn was the very same inn where they fought on the bed until it collapsed beneath them. Yan Yunhe didn’t know where Yu Qin had ended up sleeping that night, but he must have found a way. A chair, a roof beam, even the floor would have sufficed.
Yu Qin pressed the scabbard of his saber against the edge of the bed. “We’re both men. Why would I sleep somewhere else?”
Yan Yunhe didn't budge. “I don’t like sharing a bed with others.”
Yu Qin drew his blade and concisely commanded: “Move.”
He stopped short of kicking Yan Yunhe out of the room, only because the man had paid for it. Otherwise, Yu Qin would have told him to get lost.
Yan Yunhe grumbled reluctantly, finally scooting over. Like a virtuous man trapped against his will, he relinquished his warm spot of the bed to Yu Qin.
Yu Qin lay down with his clothes still on. He closed his eyes, cradling his saber in his arms.
Yan Yunhe's hand was tentatively reaching toward Yu Qin’s neck when Yu Qin spoke: “The magistrate is hosting a celebration for his father’s sixtieth birthday tomorrow. We should rest early.”
“How did you find out?” Yan Yunhe asked, startled.
Did Yu Qin have an informant here too? How had he uncovered something Yan Yunhe hadn’t even managed to look into yet?
He had planned to investigate the magistrate’s residence himself. If the Qinyi Gang had dealings with the magistrate, there might be ledgers to examine. He hadn’t yet decided on the best opportunity to infiltrate the residence, but the birthday celebration, with many guests coming and going, seemed like the perfect time to strike.
“Did you get an invitation?” Yan Yunhe asked.
Yu Qin didn't reply, his eyes still closed.
Yan Yunhe scanned Yu Qin’s entire body, but it didn’t seem he had the invitation on him. Suddenly struck by an idea, he stepped over Yu Qin, leaped barefoot off the bed, and approached the hanging fur coat. He reached inside, carefully felt around, and sure enough, he fished out the invitation. He didn’t recognize the names written on it; Yu Qin had probably stolen it. There was no way to tell if their cover would be blown at the banquet tomorrow.
Still, since Yu Qin had managed to obtain the invitation, he certainly wouldn’t let their identities get exposed. He was a handful as an opponent, but now that they shared a common goal, he was remarkably reliable.
As Yan Yunhe tucked the invitation back where he found it, his fingers brushed against something—a square object wrapped in paper. He didn’t feel guilty for rummaging through Yu Qin’s belongings. Mainly because Yu Qin didn’t bother to get up and stop him, implying he had nothing to hide.
Upon unwrapping the package, he was surprised to find it contained pastries. The closer he held it, the stronger the aroma was. Since he had been drinking earlier, the faint, sweet fragrance of the pastries was especially tempting. Not only that, but the scent was strangely familiar.
The most delicious peach blossom pastries Yan Yunhe had ever tasted came from a small shop right outside Donglin Academy. Despite its modest size, the shop was renowned. Only a hundred pastries were available daily, and even Yan Yunhe couldn’t always secure one.
Yunzhou wasn’t exactly a bustling city, so how could it possibly have such exquisite pastries?
“Lord Yu, can I try one of your pastries?” Yan Yunhe asked shamelessly, holding up the box as he approached the bed.
Only then did Yu Qin open his eyes. “No.”
So stingy! Yan Yunhe pouted. “I shared my bed with you, so why can’t you share your pastries with me?”
Yu Qin turned on his side, his hair spilling across the pillow like a waterfall. The sight held an indescribable allure. “Lord Yan, are you saying you’d sleep with anyone who offers you pastries?”
That was the gist of it, but the way he phrased it twisted the meaning completely.
Teasing Yu Qin once had backfired tenfold.
Since the jar was already cracked, he might as well smash it.1 Yan Yunhe tore open the packaging and stuffed a pastry into his mouth. “If it were anyone else, not even ten cartloads of pastries would be enough for a spot in my bed. But if it’s you, Lord Yu… I’m the one who gets the better end of the deal.”
He deliberately made it sound as crude as possible, wanting to see who would crack first—Yu Qin or himself.
Sure enough, Yu Qin’s expression darkened slightly, but he said nothing, likely finding it beneath him to argue with such a vulgar person.
Yan Yunhe devoured most of the pastries in the package before rinsing his mouth and climbing into bed. With a wave of his hand, a gush of wind extinguished the candle and plunged the room into darkness.
Deprived of sight, his sense of smell sharpened. Yu Qin’s faint, elusive scent filled his nostrils with each breath, surging into his chest. Yan Yunhe felt the lingering sweetness of the peach blossom pastries flood back into his mouth, savoring it on his lips and teeth.
He gently raised his hand, his fingertips brushing against something cool—Yu Qin’s hair. As those soft strands wrapped around his fingers, he almost forgot about their owner's bad temper.
Clutching that lock of hair, Yan Yunhe wondered: Didn’t Yu Qin bathe earlier? Why does he still smell like peach blossoms?
Peach blossoms were beautiful, yet their fragrance was delicate, much like Yu Qin himself.
This was the closest thing to a peaceful moment between them in a decade. He knew they would be enemies again when dawn broke, but for now…
Yan Yunhe closed his eyes and quietly let go of that lock of hair.
A land of tenderness, a dream of beauty.2
Had he been clear-headed, he would not have sunk so deep.
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