Lang Huan almost managed to snatch the paper from Feng Yao's hands, but Feng Yao was quicker. Still seated firmly on Lang Huan's lap, she used her position to keep her from moving. In an instant, the atmosphere in the room turned tense.
"Stop!" Feng Yao snapped, her eyes flashing with warning. "A Li, Wu Ming, hurry!"
A Li, hearing the call, rushed into the room, while Wu Ming, moving quickly, appeared from the window. Both of them froze when they saw the scene in front of them.
Lang Huan's cheek flushed red with embarrassment, caught in such an awkward position. She stopped struggling at once.
A Li and Wu Ming exchanged an awkward glance. They both felt relieved that their faces were hidden behind their veils, unsure of what to say—or if they should say anything at all.
Without a word, Feng Yao handed the paper to A Li. The two quickly left the room, eager to escape the uncomfortable tension.
Outside, Qing Meier was just approaching the door when A Li raised a hand, stopping her.
"What's wrong?" Qing Meier asked.
A Li shook her head, "Nothing's wrong. You don't need to go in."
Qing Meier stared at the closed door, her imagination running wild. Something might have happened inside—something violent… or perhaps something even worse.
Lang Huan was angry, refusing to look at Feng Yao.
"Look at me," Feng Yao said, taking Lang Huan's hand gently.
"I'll get some wound medicine," Feng Yao added, preparing to stand up.
But Lang Huan hugged her waist.
"No," she murmured. "I want to bite your thumb too."
Feng Yao chuckled, seeing her childish reaction, then offered her thumb. Lang Huan touched it, her eyes admiring Feng Yao's long, delicate fingers, the nails beautifully painted.
It was the complete opposite of her own hands, rough with calluses from years of martial arts training. As a woman, she couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. Then, she gently bit Feng Yao's thumb, careful not to hurt her.
Feng Yao took out the hairpin from Lang Huan's hair, letting her long hair fall down to her waist like a waterfall. She gently tucked Lang Huan's hair behind her ear. "Your hair is really beautiful," Feng Yao said.
Lang Huan looked at the beautiful face in front of her. Feng Yao slowly leaned in and gave her a light kiss on the lips—just a gentle touch.
But how could Lang Huan let her go after tasting the sweetness?
She held Feng Yao tighter and deepened the kissed. Lang Huan used her tongue to gently part Feng Yao's lips, licking softly, then sucking on her tongue, slow and tender.
Feng Yao didn't pull away. Instead, she closed her eyes and let herself fall into the moment completely.
Feeling Feng Yao respond to her kiss, Lang Huan raised the corner of her mouth in a slight smile, then continued kissing her.
Their breaths mixed, warm and shaky.
"Mmm…" Feng Yao moaned softly. She felt breathless, like the kiss was stealing all the air from her lungs.
Lang Huan slowly pulled away, letting the kiss end with a soft, lingering touch.
"What do my lips taste like?" Feng Yao whispered.
Lang Huan smiled, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind Feng Yao's ear.
"Sweet... and soft," she murmured, her gaze lingering on Feng Yao's lips. "Like morning dew on the first day of spring."
Feng Yao playfully bit the tip of Lang Huan's nose.
Just then, a voice called from outside,
"Young Master, it's A Cai. Madam Su asked me to bring you home..."
Lang Huan sighed. "Okay," she answered.
Feng Yao's face darkened. The voice clearly ruined her mood. She grabbed Lang Huan's collar,
"You're not allowed to leave... not until you explain everything to me."
Lang Huan blinked. "Explain what?"
"What's your relationship with Su Qing?" Feng Yao snapped. "Did you sleep with your stepmother?"
Lang Huan looked utterly shocked. "No way! How could Your Highness even think that?"
Feng Yao narrowed her eyes. "You two call each other so intimately."
Lang Huan curled her lips into a wicked smile. "oh, Your Highness is jealous."
She leaned in, her voice low and teasing. "If you want, I can whisper sweet little names in your ear too..."
Her lips brushed against Feng Yao's ear.
"Yaoyao... Yaoyao..."
Feng Yao pinched her mouth, refusing to listen to Lang Huan's sweet talk. Then she glared fiercely and gave a dark warning.
"Lang Huan, let me remind you—I've treated you really, really well.
If you ever dare to betray me," her voice dropped coldly, "I'll chop you and Su Qing into ground meat and feed your meat to Xiao Bai."
The eldest princess was already ruthless on a normal day—let alone when she was jealous.
Lang Huan couldn't even imagine it. Her life might become more miserable than death. What if she finds out about my true identity?
"Are you afraid?" Feng Yao asked, noticing Lang Huan lost in thought.
Lang Huan stayed silent for a moment, simply gazing at her. Then she quickly masked her worry and replied sweetly,
"Hmm...I don't want to die because I like Your Highness too much."
She coaxed the jealous woman gently, until a faint smile appeared on Feng Yao's face.
Feng Yao stood up and picked up a comb, gently tidying Lang Huan's hair. With practiced fingers, she tied it up and fixed it in place with the jade hairpin.
Lang Huan glanced out the window. The first light of dawn was beginning to show.
"Your Highness should head home too. Why didn't you bring Qiu Yue and the others?"
"What if something happens?" She looked at her with concern.
"Let me take you home."
Feng Yao only hummed in response, a mischievous idea suddenly sparking in her mind. She leaned in and kissed Lang Huan's cheek, deliberately leaving behind a bright red mark of her lip rouge.
She imagined the look on Su Qing's face when she saw it—and from an angle where Lang Huan couldn't see, Feng Yao smiled to herself.
Lang Huan, surprised by the sudden kiss, didn't think too much of it. Calmly, she helped Feng Yao put her veil back on.
With so many male guests below, their eyes filled with vulgar intent, she didn't want the woman she liked to be harmed—even by a single look.
Suddenly, Lang Huan bent down and lifted Feng Yao into her arms.
Feng Yao gasped, eyes wide. "W-What are you doing?!"
She hadn't expected Lang Huan to just carry her—especially not with the mark of her lip rouge still boldly visible on Lang Huan's cheek.
Lang Huan kicked the door, as they stepped out, the soft glow of dawn spilled over the corridor. All eyes turned toward them. Feng Yao's face flushed red in an instant. She quickly buried her face in Lang Huan's neck, heart pounding.
From the side, A Cai stood frozen, staring at the lip rouge on Lang Huan's cheek, absolutely dumbfounded.
His eyes darted to the mysterious woman in Lang Huan's arms, then back to his master.
Qing Meier covered her mouth, this completely different from anything she had imagined.
A Li didn't even dare to look up, her head bowed low.
Lang Huan carried Feng Yao as if she were the most precious thing in the world—completely unfazed by the attention around them.