As if not enough, Shen Yue snatched the silk handkerchief from his hand and threw it on the ground.
Roughly grabbing Cheng Qian’gong’s hair, she tilted her chin up, her high nose bridge appearing cold, her full lips like petals, delicate and moist.
Her voice was hoarse and filled with danger.
“Cheng Qian’gong, I ask you, only once. You’d better think clearly before answering.”
The stinging sensation on her scalp came in waves. Cheng Qian’gong’s expression remained unchanged. His well-defined fingers clenched anxiously, his heart like a pot of boiling water.
Cheng Qian’gong slightly raised his eyes, looking at her with those cool, dark pupils.
As Shen Yue met his gaze, the overwhelming ache in her chest instantly blurred her vision. She held back, not showing it.
A faint coldness emanated from her eyes, as she forced a tough exterior.
Word by word.
“Why are you staying here?”
The man’s long, fair hand moved, seemingly absentmindedly, yet carrying indifference.
He looked at Shen Yue, the slap mark on his face reddening, and asked faintly, “What does Your Highness think?”
He tossed the question back.
Shen Yue didn’t know. She truly didn’t know, because she couldn’t understand what the man before her was thinking at all.
Sometimes Cheng Qian’gong could be very kind to her, and sometimes he was indifferent, like playing with a pet. When he was in a good mood, he might tease her once or twice, but when he was in a bad mood, he wouldn’t even bother to look.
She hurriedly lowered her head and released her grip. On her fair, jade-like earlobe, a purplish-blue mark was embedded, as if from a fierce bite, inflicted with great force, which had not yet faded.
These were love marks he had left yesterday, and they had not faded yet. Not only this one, but beneath this dress, there were many more such marks.
Cheng Qian’gong’s hand clenched involuntarily, veins bulging on the back of his hand, tendons clearly defined.
His pale, indifferent face was expressionless, his thin lips tightly pressed, his eyes appearing calm, yet like the tranquility before a storm.
Shen Yue’s voice was like a sigh, or perhaps a murmured question to herself: “Can’t you answer?”
The man’s silence instantly overwhelmed her. She took a deep breath, her face pale, and slowly clenched her palm.
In fact, Cheng Qian’gong could have lied. Any excuse would have sufficed.
He could have said he stayed because he liked her.
He could have lied to her.
But Cheng Qian’gong couldn’t even be bothered to lie.
Cheng Qian’gong was still calmly observing the bite mark on her earlobe.
At that moment, a strange sense of pleasure surged through him. It came inexplicably, yet it was twisted. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way, but he still experienced a dark sense of satisfaction.
It was as if Shen Yue was now permeated with his aura, signifying that Shen Yue also belonged to him.
This thought made his entire heart tremble.
Shen Yue slowly took a step back, putting more distance between herself and the man, and continued to retreat until a gap was formed.
Her black ink-like hair fell onto her chest, obscuring the marks on her earlobe.
Cheng Qian’gong seemed to have just snapped back to reality. After seeing the distance between them, his brows furrowed, and an unnamed anger raged within him, overwhelming his reason. Just as he was about to speak, Shen Yue closed her eyes, her body went limp, and she fainted.
Unexpectedly, Cheng Qian’gong reacted quickly and rushed to catch Shen Yue.
This time, he lost his composure. He lacked his usual calm and steady demeanor. He shouted towards the door.
“Someone! Summon the imperial physician!”
Snowflakes drifted down slowly. Chengqian Palace was brightly lit, with maids carrying lanterns, moving with hurried steps.
Shen Yue’s fainting was without any warning, and even the imperial physician could not find a clue. Cheng Qian’gong stayed by her side, looking at Shen Yue’s pale, sickly face on the bed, which carried a chilling and suffocating quality that made people inexplicably uneasy. His fingers tightened involuntarily, and he became inexplicably nervous.
In the end, it was only said that it was due to overexertion and excessive emotional agitation.
In plain terms, it was anger affecting her vital energy. She could not have her emotions agitated recently and should not be stimulated further.
Hearing that there was no serious problem, Cheng Qian’gong breathed a sigh of relief.
Daybreak arrived, and sunlight streamed in.
Her long, thick eyelashes trembled, then slowly opened. She stared at the gauze canopy above for a moment, her pupils shifting slightly, and then she saw Cheng Qian’gong, who was asleep, resting his head by her bedside.
Cheng Qian’gong must have stayed here all night. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his face was full of fatigue.
She remained still, watching him quietly.
The man was handsome, with sharp, sculpted features that seemed to exude a cold aura even in his sleep. His face was as pale as jade, his dark eyebrows like swords.
When he was awarded the top scholar, he was in red, riding a spirited horse, captivating the hearts of countless young women.
Shen Yue was among them.
But looking at him now, that fluttering heart felt as if it had subsided.
She felt like driftwood, aimlessly drifting and being washed by the rolling waves, with nowhere to rely on.
Finally, she was battered by the waves onto the shore, left to rot alone.
Cheng Qian’gong’s eyelashes fluttered, then slowly opened. His first instinct was to look at Shen Yue, and his gaze met her dark, moist eyes.
Seeing that Shen Yue was awake, Cheng Qian’gong was overjoyed. Naturally, he missed the emotion in Shen Yue’s eyes.
He touched Shen Yue’s face, his voice soft, “Are you still feeling uncomfortable anywhere?”
Shen Yue simply stared at him without speaking.
After a while, Cheng Qian’gong realized the atmosphere was not quite right. The smile on his face faded slightly. Making eye contact with Shen Yue, his expression became somewhat stiff, and he asked softly, “What is it? Why are you looking at me like this?”
Shen Yue pursed her lips and averted her gaze, “Water…”
Cheng Qian’gong immediately got up to pour a cup of hot water, carefully helped the young woman up, and fed her small sips.
After finishing the cup, her thirst was quenched.
The window was tightly shut. Outside, the wind and snow raged, and the charcoal fire inside was nearly out. Cheng Qian’gong went out to instruct a maid to add more charcoal.
The room became warm again.
Cheng Qian’gong stayed by her side, fearing Shen Yue might feel unwell. When it was time for lunch, he earnestly requested to feed her himself. Shen Yue listlessly lowered her thick eyelashes. The tear mole beneath her eyelid was vibrant and alluring, and she did not refuse.
After lunch, Shen Yue slept in a daze. When she opened her eyes again, she found Cheng Qian’gong still there.
He must have gone out for a while. Cheng Qian’gong was arranging plum blossoms he had just picked in a vase. The bright red petals still bore remnants of melted snow, creating a striking contrast.
Shen Yue’s face was very pale, her features beautiful and striking. A faint blush appeared at the corners of her eyes. She simply gazed at the man’s tall figure for a long time.
Her thick, long eyelashes fluttered gently. Her voice was still hoarse, and her throat hurt when she spoke.
“Cheng Qian’gong, what do you think of my seventh brother?”