“Shen Jinghong, don’t push it!”
The provocation in those peach-blossom eyes sent the Crown Prince’s temper flaring. He brought his hand down hard on the table, making the teacups clatter.
The smile on Shen Jinghong’s face did not change, but the chill in his peach-blossom eyes deepened. His voice remained languid.
“Please calm yourself, Your Highness. I merely came to study poetry. Why are you so angry?”
Shi Huai sat between them, slowly taking a sip from the teacup in his hands. The tea had already gone cold, leaving a faint bitterness on his tongue.
He set down the cup and rose. Looking first at the Crown Prince and then at Shen Jinghong, he spoke in a clear, gentle voice that flowed through their anger like a mountain stream—unhurried and soothing.
“Your Highness, Brother Shen, you both came here for poetry. Why ruin the harmony between you?”
The Crown Prince and Shen Jinghong turned to look at him at the same time, then just as quickly looked away.
The Crown Prince drew a deep breath and held it in his chest for a long while before finally letting it out. When he spoke again, his voice was much calmer.
“Since you’re here, sit down.”
Shen Jinghong did not stand on ceremony. He dropped into the chair beside Shi Huai.
His shoulder nearly brushed Shi Huai’s. The sapphire-blue sleeve overlapped the dark navy one, like two clouds of different colors entangled in the wind.
Seeing Shen Jinghong’s utterly self-assured expression, the Crown Prince ground his teeth until they clicked. Beneath the table, his fingers curled into tight fists.
Shi Huai sat down again and lifted his thoroughly cold tea for another sip. The bitter liquid slid from his throat all the way to his stomach, making him knit his brows ever so slightly before his expression returned to its usual calm.
Shen Jinghong turned his head and watched Shi Huai drink. In his amber eyes was reflected a face so beautiful in the candlelight that it hardly seemed human.
His fingers tightened inside his sleeves. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to suppress the impulse surging within him.
“Shi Huai, you look very good in that outfit today.”
His voice was so low that only Shi Huai could hear him, and his peach-blossom eyes were filled with sincerity.
Shi Huai turned to look at him. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile so faint it was almost imperceptible.
“Brother Shen looks good today as well. Sapphire blue suits you.”
Those words made Shen Jinghong’s heart race. His fingers abruptly clenched the robe over his knees, his knuckles turning white as though they might snap.
He lowered his head and pretended to adjust his belt, when in fact he was hiding his flushed ears. It took several deep breaths before he managed to calm his heartbeat.
The Crown Prince’s gaze swept back and forth between the two of them several times. The vein at his temple throbbed.
He lifted the winecup before him and drained it in one go. The fiery liquor burned all the way down his throat and into his stomach, reddening his eyes.
The meal passed amid surging undercurrents. Each of the three harbored his own thoughts, while the crisp clinking of chopsticks against bowls rang through the room.
Shi Huai placed a serving of stir-fried shrimp into his mouth and chewed slowly, as though he could not feel the tension between the two men beside him at all.
After the meal, the Crown Prince suggested that they go to the garden to admire the plum blossoms.
He said that the plum trees in the Eastern Palace were in full bloom, and it would be a pity not to see them.
Shi Huai nodded, rose, and straightened his collar.
Shen Jinghong stood as well and naturally followed half a step behind him.
Not too close, not too far—maintaining precisely the right distance.
The Crown Prince led the way. When he glanced back and saw Shen Jinghong practically attached to Shi Huai’s side, the corner of his mouth twitched. He quickened his pace.
The garden of the Eastern Palace was somewhat smaller than the Imperial Garden, but it was more refined. Every blade of grass and every tree had been meticulously tended.
The old plum tree stood in the very center of the garden. Its trunk was so thick that it would have taken two people to wrap their arms around it.
Its branches spread in every direction, laden with golden blossoms like a gigantic flower umbrella opened beneath the sky.
Shi Huai stood beneath the plum tree and raised his head to admire the flowers. The glow of the snow fell across his face, and his lashes trembled faintly, as though he were counting the blossoms on the branches.
The Crown Prince stood to his left, his gaze fixed not on the flowers but on Shi Huai’s face.
He looked from Shi Huai’s forehead to his brows, from his brows to the bridge of his nose, and from there to his lips, unwilling to miss a single detail—like a greedy collector admiring a priceless treasure.
Shen Jinghong stood to his right, his gaze likewise nowhere near the flowers.
His eyes were even more unabashed than the Crown Prince’s.
They traveled from Shi Huai’s lashes to his earlobe, from his earlobe to the line of his jaw, and from there to the fair stretch of neck revealed above his collar.
A gust of wind swept past. Snow gathered on the plum branches came pattering down, landing on Shi Huai’s shoulders, hair, and lashes.
He blinked. The snowflakes on his lashes melted into tiny beads of water. One gathered at the corner of his eye and slowly traced the curve of his cheek.
Shen Jinghong watched the droplet slide from the corner of Shi Huai’s eye to his chin, then fall onto his silver-gray fox fur. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
He reached out, wanting to wipe the dampness from Shi Huai’s face.
The Crown Prince had seen the droplet as well, and he reacted even faster than Shen Jinghong. Reaching into his sleeve, he pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to him.
The handkerchief was made of the finest Shu brocade and embroidered with golden dragon patterns. At a glance, it was clearly no ordinary item.
His hand trembled slightly as the handkerchief fluttered in the wind.
Shi Huai lowered his eyes to look at it, then accepted it. After casually wiping his face twice, he handed it back, a faint smile touching his lips.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
The Crown Prince took the handkerchief and clenched it again and again in his fingers, his knuckles whitening each time.
The cloth bore the melted snow from Shi Huai’s face and carried the faintest trace of soapberry fragrance.
He folded it neatly and tucked it into his sleeve, moving with the care of someone hiding a priceless treasure.
Shen Jinghong watched everything. His peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly, and a cold smile curled his lips. Inside his sleeve, his fingers clenched until they creaked.
He cursed the Crown Prince as shameless in his heart, conveniently forgetting that he had wanted to reach out and wipe away that droplet himself.
“Shi Huai, are you cold? I’ll have someone bring you a hand warmer.”
The Crown Prince’s voice held a cautious note of ingratiation. He leaned forward slightly, shortening the distance between them.
“No need. I’m not cold, Your Highness.”
Shi Huai shook his head and lifted it to continue admiring the plum blossoms, tucking both hands into his fox fur.
The Crown Prince was not annoyed at being refused. Instead, he found the way Shi Huai had folded his hands so adorable that he wanted to paint the scene and hang it in his study, where he could look at it every day.
He sighed inwardly, realizing that he was probably beyond saving.
Shen Jinghong plucked a sprig of plum blossom from the tree and held it out to Shi Huai.
Four or five golden flowers bloomed along the branch, each petal bearing a dusting of white snow. Their crisp, wintry fragrance drifted through the air.
“Here. Take it back and put it in a vase.”
Shi Huai accepted the sprig and lowered his head to smell it. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile.
“How fragrant. Thank you, Brother Shen.”
The sight of that smile nearly made Shen Jinghong lose his balance. He placed a hand against the plum tree for support before steadying himself.
The tips of his ears were red enough to bleed, and his heart pounded like a war drum. His entire being seemed immersed in a jar of honey, sweet from head to toe, inside and out.
The Crown Prince watched Shen Jinghong offer the plum blossom and the smile on Shi Huai’s face as he accepted it. His teeth ground together with a sharp crack, and his fingers clenched into fists inside his sleeves, his nails digging into his palms and drawing line after line of blood.
That was a plum blossom from his Eastern Palace!!!
You shameless bastard!!!!!
