Her delicate chin seemed to have become even sharper than before.
She had lost a lot of weight.
Why, after taking so many days of medicine, did she not seem to be getting better?
Cheng Qian Gong bent down, reaching out to touch the girl's forehead.
Before Shen Yue could even react, she felt a tall shadow descend, followed by cool fingertips touching her forehead.
In that instant, her eyes turned cold. Without hesitation, she shoved him away, saying in a chilling voice, "Don't touch me!"
It was an instinctive reaction, likely something Shen Yue herself couldn't comprehend. She truly couldn't pretend that nothing had happened, that everything was as it was before.
How could she not be angry?
But more than that, she felt tired, weary.
The girl's emotions seemed to be running high. She stood up, her narrow, alluring eyes slanted slightly upwards, a hint of damp, glistening red appearing at the ends of her eyebrows.
It added a touch of color to her pale face.
Cheng Qian Gong had never been pushed away so mercilessly by Shen Yue before. The moment he was pushed, a gloomy malevolence flashed in his eyes, only to be quickly suppressed.
In the silent standoff, a long time passed, a suffocating cold current flowing wordlessly.
Ultimately, it was Cheng Qian Gong who spoke first.
His voice remained cold. He said softly, "What's wrong?"
Shen Yue closed her eyes, then opened them again, her expression now calm. She pressed her throbbing temple, her pale, sickly face almost transparent.
She lowered her head slightly, her expression indifferent. "Nothing."
Seeing how pale Shen Yue's complexion was, as if she might faint at any moment, Cheng Qian Gong clenched his fist and couldn't help but step closer. He wanted to ask Shen Yue if she was still feeling unwell, but before his fingers could even brush Shen Yue's sleeve, he was pushed away again.
The first time might have been unintentional, but what about the second?
The man's expression suddenly turned cold, his gaze dark. The fingers of his hand hanging by his side were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
Outside the window, the wind roared, pounding against the glass with a constant clamor.
The surrounding air seemed to freeze, making it difficult to breathe.
Cheng Qian Gong stood rigidly, unmoving.
Shen Yue pursed her lips. A few soft strands of black hair tangled around her pale, fragile neck. The corners of her eyes drooped, and her tear mole was like vermilion.
Her brow furrowed slightly, a hint of impatience appearing.
"Don't come too close. You'll catch my illness."
Was that truly the case?
Cheng Qian Gong's mind went blank for a moment. For some reason, his heart felt a flutter of panic. Uncontrolled emotions were always so detestable.
Yet, he still appeared composed and at ease, his lips pulled into a tight line, his jawline sharp as a blade.
Having been rejected twice in a row, perhaps feeling a loss of face, Cheng Qian Gong said nothing. He stood in place for a while, then turned and left without a word of farewell.
Shen Yue was once again alone in the bedchamber.
She stared at the white paper, lost in thought. Resting her head on her hand, she eventually drifted off to sleep.
Later, she felt herself being lifted. The embrace was warm and familiar, and Shen Yue couldn't help but nuzzle into it with a sense of dependence.
The person stiffened, their movements becoming even gentler.
In a voice like a murmur, they said, "Fu An..."
Settled into the soft bedding, Fu An stood by the bed for a long time. As he turned to leave, his sleeve was tugged.
He turned back. Shen Yue, who should have been fast asleep, now had her eyes half-closed, her delicate eyelashes fluttering, appearing soft, as if she were being playful.
"Fu An, sleep with me."
Seeing Shen Yue's childish gesture, Fu An couldn't help but smile gently. He was always doting, indulging Shen Yue in everything, whether it was good or bad.
As long as Shen Yue said it, as long as it was Shen Yue's request, he would agree without hesitation.
So, he took off his shoes and climbed onto the bed.
Shen Yue quickly moved closer, wrapping her arms around his arm. She was still a soft, small bundle, just like when she was little.
In her younger years, there was no brazier in the bedchamber, and the bedding was thin, offering no warmth at all.
Every night, Fu An would climb to the foot of the bed, cradle Shen Yue's cold feet in his arms, and use his warm belly to warm them.
He would also tell Shen Yue bedtime stories, coaxing her to sleep.
Just like now, Shen Yue couldn't sleep. Soft strands of hair brushed against her snow-white neck, her shoulders were thin.
Her vibrant lips curved into a faint arc, revealing an innocence untouched by worldly affairs. "Fu An, I can't sleep. I want to hear a story."
Fu An gently tucked the strands of hair from Shen Yue's cheek behind her ear. He smiled, his eyes as gentle as the spring breeze of April.
Fu An's voice was pleasant, calm, and clean, possessing a magical quality that made Shen Yue want to fall asleep.
Soon, Shen Yue closed her eyes and fell asleep.
That night, she was not startled awake by nightmares. She slept soundly, dreaming a beautiful dream, a faint smile gracing her lips even in her sleep.
---
The winter air was filled with mist, exuding a deep chill. Ice crystals adorned the plum branches, where red plum blossoms bloomed vibrantly, as bright as the morning glow.
Their fragrance was rich and lingered far away.
Green gauze curtains hung around the pavilion, dancing like fluttering butterflies in the cold wind.
Shi Wei walked over the bluestone bricks. Through the gauze curtain, slightly lifted by the wind, one could glimpse half of his face, as beautiful and ethereal as a ghost, appearing and disappearing, captivating the heart.
Shen Yue was kneeling there, preparing tea. By the time Shi Wei arrived, it was ready.
Steaming white mist rose. Her slender, white fingers lifted a teapot, tilting it slowly. A yellowish-brown liquid, shrouded in mist, poured from the teapot.
The aroma of tea wafted over, faint yet pleasant.
Even the simplest action, when performed by her, was captivating, stirring the heart and conjuring impure desires.
Shi Wei walked over, his eyes gentle and refined. He offered a polite, understated bow. "Your Highness."
Shen Yue nodded, signaling him to sit.
Shi Wei walked to the low table and sat down, directly opposite Shen Yue.
"How is the matter I entrusted to you proceeding?"
The Emperor's illness had worsened in recent days. Shi Wei was a favored official in the Emperor's eyes, simply because Shi Wei was so adept with his words; he could make the dead appear alive, naturally pleasing the Emperor.
During this period of severe illness, Shi Wei also visited the Emperor's side according to Shen Yue's instructions, probing for information. He was also tasked with keeping a close watch on Shen Yao Jin.
Shen Yue trusted Shi Wei so implicitly because she held a handle over him – something that could cost him his head. As long as Shi Wei had any sense, he wouldn't dare to play any tricks on her.
Unfortunately, Shen Yue had underestimated the depths of one person's wickedness.
Shi Wei took a sip of the tea Shen Yue had brewed.
It should have been bitter, yet he tasted a hint of sweetness.
He extended his crimson tongue, licking his lips.