18 Uninvited Guest (2)

Curled up in his arms, Wanwan shifted uncomfortably, tightening her hold on Pan Yueyang even in her sleep. In her dream, she murmured, “Master, Wanwan is hungry…” Her eyes remained tightly shut, lost in slumber.

Though her voice was soft, Pan Yueyang, a master in his own right, caught every word. A faint smile played at his lips. He gently laid her on the large bed and slipped out of his own robes.

“Mmm.” Wanwan, tickled awake, struggled to open her eyes. There was no fear in her; her body had grown used to his presence. Naturally, she reached out, hugging Pan Yueyang as he leaned over her. “Master,” she whispered.

In this moment… it was as if he were a wolf preying upon a helpless little rabbit.

“Wanwan, call my name,” he said, his voice thick with restraint.

“Yueyang…”

Hearing her soft invocation, Pan Yueyang abandoned all reserve and lost himself in what must be done.

Moonlight poured down like water.

“Young master, it’s late.” Alone, he continued to gaze at the moon. Calling it melancholy would not be far from the truth.

“I’m admiring the moon.”

“Then please continue, young master. I’ll take my leave.” Not sparing him a glance, Xueqing leapt nimbly from the eaves.

Seeing that his master had no intention of leaving, Yu Heming remained dutifully hidden in the grove.

Halfway down the path, Xueqing spoke without turning back, her tone light: “Summer nights are full of insects—pity the two companions left to keep watch.”

“Well said. It is late. Let us return to our rooms.” Zong Yinyang, ever modest in bearing, was in truth a master of inner strength. With his usual elegance, he landed softly on the ground.

“Young master Yin, you should rest early. If you take ill, won’t our master vent his anger on me?” The implication was clear: On someone else’s turf, one must behave—eat when it’s time to eat, sleep when it’s time to sleep, and leave when it’s time to leave.

“I’m not overly concerned with such details,” he replied shamelessly, sharing a silent exchange with Yu Heming still concealed in the trees.

“Since you’ve left the eaves, I can rest easy and finally sleep,” Xueqing said, turning away.

“Ha, thank you for your concern,” Zong Yinyang replied with a bow.

Xueqing covered half her face with a handkerchief, her smile clever. “I’m only concerned for myself.”

Zong Yinyang saw nothing amiss and made no reply.

Watching his oblivious expression, Xueqing finally let down her guard. “You’re on the roof of my bedchamber admiring the moon. Tell me, young master… what woman would dare sleep unclothed?”

Did you hear that, master? How embarrassing… Yu Heming silently bemoaned.

A bit embarrassed, Zong Yinyang forced a smile. “I’ll take my leave.”

Watching his shy retreat, Xueqing felt her earlier melancholy dissipate. She tossed her head and set off to sleep.

At the break of dawn, with pale light creeping across the sky, Wanwan, exhausted, shifted in her sleep. Every bone in her body felt as if it might fall apart. Clinging to the warm presence beside her, she draped one long leg over it—how comfortable.

Pan Yueyang had long been awake, disturbed by her constant tossing and turning, but refused to rise. Masters were supposed to sleep lightly, always alert to danger, but after last night’s urgent exertions, even he had not expected to be so besotted with a woman drunk into oblivion. The result: a sleepless night, and now, pinned by the entangling embrace of this persistent woman, he could only close his eyes and rest.

Thinking of Wanwan’s unexpected boldness under the influence of wine, he felt a renewed vigor, and his devilish hands began to wander once more.

“Mmm, Master, Wanwan is so tired…” Wanwan blinked sleepily, her expression silly and half-awake, silently pleading not to be disturbed.

She was used to their morning exertions by now. Rolling over to face away from him, she sought a more comfortable position to continue her sleep.

But Pan Yueyang cared nothing for her wishes. Overcome by desire, he grasped her waist and pressed close from behind…

And so, another morning blossomed with boundless passion.

By the time Wanwan at last woke fully, the sun was already high in the sky.

Yawning and stretching, she winced. “Ow…” Rubbing her sore hips, she felt the ache laced with sweetness. After each night with her master, she always found herself secretly smiling, her cheeks flushing with a maiden’s shyness and delight.

Feng He, hearing sounds from within, entered with a basin to help Wanwan wash and dress.

It must be said, Wanwan was likely the only one in the household who slept until midday.

“Huh?” Wanwan paused mid-rub, then continued.

“Miss, is something wrong?” Feng He produced a pink dress, ready to help her change.

“Where am I?” Wanwan glanced about the room. It was far more luxurious than the place she usually slept. Pressing down on the large bed, she noted the thick mattress, the carved rosewood furniture—somehow familiar.

“This is the general’s bedchamber, miss,” Feng He replied, never pausing in her task.

Wanwan instinctively looked down. The thick carpet beneath the bed jogged her memory—yes, this was her master’s room. She remembered being thrown onto this very carpet the first time he bullied her. That image lingered in her mind.

She rose to let Feng He dress her. Sharing a bed with her master, Wanwan no longer found it shameful.

Feng He kept her head lowered. Though all were women here, she herself was unmarried, and the marks scattered across Wanwan’s skin made her blush.

“Miss, Miss Fu has come looking for you twice.” Feng He finished arranging Wanwan’s skirt, then brought the basin for her to wash.

“Oh.” Seated before the bronze mirror, Wanwan carelessly ran a comb through her hair.

Once everything was in order, Wanwan stood. “Feng He, where is Master?”

“I do not know,” Feng He replied respectfully. Where the master went or what he did was not for people of her station to inquire.

Wanwan thought for a moment. “Come with me to find Ruier.”

The moment she stepped from the bedchamber, she saw Fu Ruirui waiting outside.

“Ruier!” Wanwan beamed at her.

“Oh, Wanwan, you’ve been asleep since yesterday—what on earth were you doing to need so much rest?” Ruier’s tone was full of mock complaint.

What had she been doing…? Physical labor.

“Pfft.” Feng He and the maids at the door stifled laughter.

“What is it?” Ruier glanced at their strained faces, not realizing she’d said anything amiss.

“You really want to know?” Zong Yinyang appeared nearby. Hearing his patient was awake, he, the ever-dutiful physician, hurried over.

You again! Ruier rolled her eyes. “Like a ghost that won’t leave.”

“Oh? So it seems Miss Fu does not wish me to help detoxify her after all.” Zong Yinyang’s lips curled, awaiting her inevitable plea.

“Benefactor! Please, save me!” Ruier immediately played the part, just as he’d expected.

“Benefactor, what’s wrong with Ruier?” Wanwan asked. Yesterday, she’d been too distracted to ask why Ruier suddenly needed detoxification. Had she been poisoned?

Zong Yinyang snorted, ignoring her.

Fu Ruirui, meanwhile, alternated between cursing and pleading, while he deliberately looked away.

“Do you know where General Pan is?” Zong Yinyang had, in fact, come seeking Pan Yueyang today.

“No idea,” Wanwan replied, scratching her head.

Ruier looked at Zong Yinyang, who looked at Wanwan, who looked back at him.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” Zong Yinyang suggested.

Feng He approached to support Wanwan, her gaze clearly warning her not to make decisions lightly.

“Alright.” Wanwan, oblivious to such subtleties, set off with Feng He’s resigned gaze, the group ambling aimlessly along the garden paths.

“Young master Yin, do you think my poison can be cured?” Ruier asked in her usual languid tone.

“Ah! Truthfully, you haven’t been poisoned at all. They merely gave you a mild sedative. As long as you stop taking it, you’ll be fine in a few days.” He found her puppy-like fawning unbearable.

Her bright, almond-shaped eyes blinked. Unlike Wanwan’s languid beauty, Ruier’s features were lively and sparkling.

Those clever eyes flashed, and suddenly she erupted in rage. “I’ll kill them all! After that, drag them out to feed the dogs! Bah!”

Had he known she’d react like this, Zong Yinyang would have just given her a placebo. No discipline, no grace, no composure—he brushed off his sleeves as if her anger had sullied him.

“Ruier, calm down, calm down,” Wanwan hurriedly soothed.

“Young master Yin.” Xueqing, overseeing the servants at work in the courtyard, called out. She had little to do lately and had taken to supervising the staff. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Quite well.” Embarrassed, he realized he’d already forgotten the events of the previous day.

“Wanwan, are you feeling better?” Xueqing looked her up and down. When Wanwan first entered the household, their positions were reversed. Now, Wanwan was nearly a mistress in her own right.

“I’m well, Sister Xueqing.”

“Miss Xueqing, have you seen General Pan or your junior?” Zong Yinyang asked, simply for conversation.

“It’s not my place to ask about the master’s affairs, and Mu Bai—I haven’t seen him since early morning,” Xueqing replied with her usual warmth.

“Wanwan, look at all these flowers! They’re so pretty. Let’s pick some to take back,” Ruier exclaimed, her spirits lifted by the garden in full bloom.

“Alright!” The two girls disappeared into the sea of blossoms.

Only Zong Yinyang and Xueqing remained.

“Isn’t this difficult for you?”

“Servants are supposed to work hard,” Xueqing replied with a polite smile.

“I meant your heart,” Zong Yinyang said, his innate elegance shining through.

“I don’t understand,” Xueqing parried, feigning ignorance.

“An onlooker sees most clearly. If you’re so fond of your master, surely watching him dote on another must test your heart.” Zong Yinyang glanced at the two women laughing ahead.

“That’s none of your business!” Xueqing’s voice trembled with suppressed anger. She did not wish to have her wounds exposed.

“I only think you’re foolish,” Zong Yinyang said, arms folded. “Wanwan suffered a serious injury and has forgotten some things. With a course of acupuncture, her memories will return in time.”

“What do you really want?”