Zhu Qingyu was a physician, and she showed her understanding, respect, and approval of Vice Minister Gu’s explanation with an agreeable nature. She nodded at him and smiled gently.
But the party’s understanding did not bring Vice Minister Gu any ease. Seeing her knowing smile, he only grew more flustered. When he bent down to help untangle her dress, he was so visibly clumsy that he fumbled with his own hands.
Vice Minister Gu was in such a tizzy by the time he retrieved the dress that he didn’t know where to look, and as a result, the hem got tangled around his legs, causing him to lurch forward and crash into Zhu Qingyu.
One misstep led to another, chaos upon chaos.
Unprepared, Zhu Qingyu stumbled backward with him, on the verge of falling into the bathtub behind her. But the highly skilled Vice Minister Gu suddenly regained his usual agility. He caught her, pulled her close to his chest, and positioned himself beneath her to cushion the fall.
They fell into the bathtub together. Warm water splashed everywhere, spilling over the rim, thundering onto the floor in rivulets that crept all the way to the foot of the bed.
Zhu Qingyu was drenched from head to toe, her face and hair soaked with water.
Since Vice Minister Gu had taken the brunt of the fall beneath her, he was even more thoroughly soaked than she was.
The two of them were squeezed into the cramped bathtub, pressed tightly together, submerged in the warm water.
Zhu Qingyu sat leaning back against him, and Vice Minister Gu’s hands rested on her waist.
It was scalding—the water, and even more so, him.
Zhu Qingyu tried to prop herself up with her elbow on the edge of the tub, but whether from exhaustion or the water’s effect, as soon as she rose, she slipped back down, collapsing fully onto him.
Vice Minister Gu’s hands unconsciously tightened around her waist. He tilted his head back against the tub, on the verge of gasping, his face a picture of desperate pleading, and his voice trembling as he spoke:
“Qingyu, please, don’t move.”
Zhu Qingyu froze, just staring at him.
It wasn’t the first time they had been this close—they had even been closer.
But perhaps, in the past, it was more often under his coercion and advances, with her mind focused on soothing him or humoring him, paying less attention to him as a person.
But now, looking at him so closely, Zhu Qingyu felt that Vice Minister Gu, damp and gasping with desperate pleas, was somehow alluring.
His lips, slightly parted as he panted, even looked kissable.
Some fragmented memories of his past forceful advances suddenly drifted across her mind.
Not just how they looked.
Zhu Qingyu hastily averted her gaze, convincing herself that she must be acting strangely today because of the assassin’s attack. Having brushed so close to death, it was only natural to be a little out of sorts.
No, it was very unnatural.
She herself began to warm up, and the chill of death that had clung to her body from taking a life slowly dissolved in that scorching heat.
It must have been because the water was too hot.
Vice Minister Gu had just weathered that moment of helplessness. Since she already knew, he abandoned all pretense and simply stood up from the bathtub, stepping out.
His clothes were sopping wet, making it even more apparent what he couldn’t hide.
His face was full of the gloom of defeat, a look of wanting nothing more than to flee. Yet, even still, he hadn’t forgotten the unfinished task of taking care of her. Completely drenched, he knelt half by the bathtub and extended his hand toward her.
Zhu Qingyu’s heart suddenly leaped once, then again. With every inch he reached closer, it pounded more intensely.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
The sound was so strong, so unmistakable, that she could no longer deceive herself into pretending she didn’t hear it.
Why was her heart racing like this?
It must be the aftermath of killing someone, a belated reaction settling in.
Vice Minister Gu’s hands were those of a martial artist—knuckles distinct, long and powerful, with calluses on the palms from years of training. The knuckles also bore calluses from writing.
His hands were strong and nimble.
When those hands caressed her, the touch was so vivid.
She had felt their strength and their dexterity.
More fragmented, chaotic images flooded her mind, parading through her thoughts like an exhibition.
Some had happened; some had never even occurred.
Thanks to this sudden, reckless daydreaming, when Vice Minister Gu’s fingertip touched her back to undo the clasp, she flinched violently backward, hastily dodging his hand.
If she hadn’t been in the water, she felt she would have already run three miles away.
Oh my god, what was I just thinking?
Had the near-suffocation by the assassin scrambled her brain, turning her insane?
Because of her retreat, a strand of her hair slipped through Vice Minister Gu’s fingertip, and his hand was left hanging in the air, isolated and forlorn.
At such an unmistakable rejection, Vice Minister Gu looked deeply hurt, as if his heart had shattered:
“Qingyu, what do you think I was about to do? You’re injured and need a good rest. I just wanted to help you finish quickly so you could sleep earlier. I had no other intentions.”
Remembering how he had behaved in the past, he himself found his words unconvincing, and added, “I do have thoughts, but with you injured like this, I’m not so heartless as to force you now.”
In the end, Vice Minister Gu still helped her finish. But feeling the tension in her body, his wounded expression never eased.
While Zhu Qingyu soaked in the tub, she saw Vice Minister Gu, dripping wet, with his head slumped low, exuding a heartbroken melancholy as he opened the wardrobe to change his clothes.
That shattered sorrow lingered in the small dressing room. Even after both had bathed and changed, and even after they lay side by side on the narrow bed, it had not dissipated.
The moonlight was beautiful that night, streaming through the window and spilling into the room.
Zhu Qingyu lay with her back to Vice Minister Gu, but the brightness kept her from falling asleep for a long time.
Behind her, Vice Minister Gu tossed and turned, equally unable to sleep.
Even though she was so exhausted, why couldn’t she just drift off?
It must be that, after today’s upheaval, she needed more warmth.
Zhu Qingyu turned over. Vice Minister Gu, still awake at the sound of her movement, instantly pulled her into his arms.
Beneath the quilt embroidered with the mandarin duck design, they cuddled together, sleeping embraced.
It seemed no different from past nights, and yet, somehow, everything had changed.
It was all because of that intoxicating moonlight, confusing hearts.
