The Slender Waist-Chapter 613 - 443: Elegant Matters of the Boudoir

The bronze incense burner wafted its fragrance, and cranes carried candles in their beaks. With her raven hair casually tied back, Feng Yun dressed as a young maiden, her sly smile concealing a streak of unruliness, like an untamed beast in the jungle, nothing like the dignity, grace, and propriety she had displayed at the earlier banquet...

She was not only undignified.

She was also quite improper.

Those eyes, sweeping over her domain, rested on Pei Jue with a touch of provocation.

"Is the prince too scared?"

Pei Jue watched her without saying a word.

Feng Yun lifted her chin and smiled coyly, gently adding, "Could it be that you’re afraid... your Chief Historian will ’eat’ you?"

Her voice was soft and pleasing, tender and melting, like falling snowflakes, endlessly gentle...

Pei Jue narrowed his eyes slightly, noticing on the wooden desk in the Warm Pavilion, there lay paper and a brush.

The brush looked familiar.

Made by Le Zhengzi.

Pei Jue’s pupils darkened, as if stained by a storm.

Those rainy night memories connected to this brush flooded back...

"Isn’t this a treasured item of Lady Yun?" Pei Jue didn’t look at the brush, pretending nonchalance as he sat down, and took away both the wine jug and goblet in front of her.

"How come you feel like doing calligraphy tonight?"

Feng Yun grinned, laughing mischievously.

"Because I want to punish you."

Pei Jue looked at her, "Has Lady Yun drunk too much?"

The corners of Feng Yun’s mouth quirked up, "His Highness really doesn’t understand romance. This is the joy of the boudoir..."

Pei Jue squinted, observing her eyes and expression for any signs of abnormality, and subtly said:

"With things as they are, why torment yourself? Give him more time to think it over..."

He was referring to Wen Xingsu.

In these days, he hadn’t been to Huaxi.

He hadn’t mentioned a word about the incident where Feng Yun violently punished the Chen family.

But with such a commotion, it was impossible for Wen Xingsu to be unaware of it.

He thought Feng Yun was upset about it and was drowning her sorrows in alcohol.

However, Feng Yun seemed completely oblivious to what he was talking about, and chuckled:

"How long does His Highness wish to ponder? That’s fine, you can wait as long as you want. It’s merely not giving an antidote, after all. If the primary household doesn’t have it, can’t I just ask someone else for it?"

Pei Jue’s brows furrowed.

Antidote?

He grasped Feng Yun’s arm.

"What are you talking about?"

Feng Yun tried to push him away but couldn’t, her mocking smile intensifying as she narrowed her eyes and confronted him.

"Is Your Highness truly clueless, or are you just pretending to be?"

With a cold laugh, she was thoroughly displeased.

"It’s also a wonder how no one laughs at a married man who relies on such harmful medicine to restrain and suppress himself. Thankfully, the Medical Officer from Puyang is tight-lipped—if by any chance he lets something slip... others might think various thoughts. They might say your wife is dead, is a rock, is a piece of wood, that’s why the husband has no desire. Or perhaps, they might think the husband is keeping his body pure for someone else..."

Only then did Pei Jue understand her reason for this.

"Ungrateful." Pei Jue hummed lowly.

If it weren’t for considering her, why would he need to suppress himself?

"Moreover, when did I ever keep myself pure? Lady Yun, be reasonable."

Feng Yun shot him a meaningful smile.

She specifically indulged in little drinks just to prepare for being utterly unreasonable...

After drinking the alcohol, why be reasonable?

"I don’t want to hear these things."

She pulled away from Pei Jue’s hand, her nose slightly sweaty from the heat of the Warm Pavilion’s fire, making her seem indescribably soft and winsome.

"Your Highness has offended me and must be punished."

Pei Jue’s body suddenly grew warm.

Despite her not having done anything, he felt an unbearable thirst, as if beguiled by a siren, his blood rushing downwards, barely concealing a rising urge.

Going along with her words, Pei Jue asked, "How shall I be punished?"

Feng Yun pursed her lips, leisurely responding, "Here, copy a Letter of Recovery... I’ll have a look."

Pei Jue’s mood sank.

"I’ve said before, I’m not familiar with Le Zhengzi. I don’t know the Letter of Recovery."

"It doesn’t matter if you don’t know, I’ll teach you," Feng Yun seemed to be waiting for this very response, signaling Pei Jue to sit properly. She then leaned her entire body against his broad back and reached over, taking his hand in hers.

Her small hand couldn’t fully envelop his larger one. The sight heated Pei Jue’s eyes, as if a charcoal was rolling down his throat, warming up his body.

His voice hoarse, "Lady Yun, it’s late."

Looking down, Feng Yun uttered a faint smile, "Finish early and go to bed."

She gripped the disobedient hand with dissatisfaction, "Come on, follow me."

Pei Jue glanced sideways at the young lady’s flushed face.

Nobody had ever spoken with such presumption in front of him...

If he was to comply, then so be it.

His cold gaze slightly withdrawn, he let her guide his hand, making strokes on the paper...

"See, isn’t it well written?" Feng Yun cooed in a dulcet tone, "With a White Goat Hair bristle and a jade dragon pen holder, truly a splendid brush..."

As they were writing, the brush suddenly pivoted...

"Your Highness," she said with sparkling eyes and lips as red as berries, looking straight at him, throwing his heart into turmoil.

"With such a fine brush, apart from writing, couldn’t it also be used for something else?"

Pei Jue’s throat tightened.

Memories of that particular night surged vividly to the forefront of his mind...

The brand-new brush tip gliding over smooth skin.

Kneading, rolling, pressing...

But at that time, she was in the throes of her affliction, not in her right mind, utterly unaware... of what he did with that brush.

Pei Jue cleared his throat, all seriousness.

"Apart from writing, what else can a brush do?"

Feng Yun replied, "Drawing, of course. Silly."

Pei Jue’s heart pounded fiercely but his facial expression remained unchanged. He nodded slightly, relaxing a little.

Unexpectedly, Feng Yun’s pen suddenly stopped, and her eyes shifted back to him, once again slyly gleaming.

"...One can draw and write with an ordinary pen, so why is the pen of Le Zhengzi so renowned? This pen must have some other marvelous use..."

Pei Jue’s gaze grew heavy, and he said, "Lady Yun has said that the pen of Le Zhengzi is flexible yet firm, durable and long-lasting."

"Exactly right," Feng Yun chuckled softly, her pen tip gently curling on the paper, "When it needs to be soft, it’s soft, and when it needs to be firm, it’s firm, much more obedient than the king..."

"Lady Yun..."

By now, Pei Jue was no longer harboring any illusions of chance.

"Do you remember everything about that night?"

"Remember what?" Feng Yun replied, feigning confusion.

Pei Jue felt as if there was a lump in his throat.

The morning after that night, she had woken up without any recollection of what had happened, refusing to acknowledge anything, so it was impossible for her to know the secret of the pen...

Pei Jue lowered his eyelids, "Do write seriously."

"What a good student," Feng Yun glanced at him, "If you’re willing to sincerely admit your fault to me, I might be lenient."

Pei Jue: ...

She asked, "Unwilling, are you?"

"It’s my fault," Pei Jue slowly took her hand in his, speaking gravely, "Lady Yun’s reprimands are correct, I truly didn’t consider that aspect and neglected your feelings."

Truly giving in?

This is really like the sun rising from the west.

Feng Yun had never expected that there would come a time when Pei Jue could be so easily bullied...

Her eyes brimming with laughter, she swept a scrutinizing glance over him, eyes settling downward as her pen briskly turned on the paper, tracing a long line of ink, and then she let go.

"There’s no need to write the Letter of Recovery, let’s write something else."

Because the Letter of Recovery was an artistic endeavor shared with Xiao Cheng, Pei Jue had an internal resistance to it and did not want to be involved in any part of it.

As long as it was not that, what harm could there be in the rest?

"Okay," he answered succinctly.

As if Feng Yun had peeked into his thoughts, she slowly smiled, retrieved a small booklet from under a cushion, and placed a page in front of him.

"Write this."

Pei Jue fixed his eyes on it, his arm tensing slightly.

"Lady Yun has a rich collection of books."

"That’s an overstatement," Feng Yun said as if she couldn’t detect the expression on his face, lifting her chin, "Write."

It was an indecent little booklet.

The miscellaneous poems on it were also rather improper.

Pei Jue’s hand couldn’t bring itself to write such revealing sentences.

Knowing the kind of person he was made Feng Yun all the more intrigued.

"What concerns does the king have?"

A question he knew the answer to!

After a moment’s reflection, Pei Jue put down the pen, leaned forward, propped his hands on both sides of her, and stared fixedly into her eyes without blinking.

"If I write these, wouldn’t it be laughable? Choose another."

"Hm. It indeed wouldn’t be appropriate for the dignified Prince of Yonghuai to write such passionately erotic verses..."

After Feng Yun said this lightly and with shallow concern, she nodded her head, showing great consideration as she said:

"You don’t have to write. The king can just read them to me."

"Lady Yun..." Pei Jue had a headache.

She clearly didn’t want to make things easy for him.

How could he possibly utter such things?

"Unwilling, are you?" Feng Yun leaned forward, her hands wrapping around his neck, her breath fragrant as orchid, "I like it when the king reads to me."

Pei Jue looked down at her.

Her hairpin was loose, her neck was slender.

She was asking for his life.

"I will write."

He rubbed his brow, sighed helplessly, rolled up his sleeve, dipped the brush in ink, and truly began to write.

Feng Yun craned her neck to look.

He stopped.

Feng Yun moved aside.

He wrote again.

Feng Yun leaned in once more.

He frowned, paused the brush, and gave her a sidelong glance.

Feng Yun raised her eyebrows, smiled lightly, pulling a cushion to her waist, temptingly lying down as if bored, absentmindedly stretched out her toes, and slid them down from his waist.

Pei Jue’s hand trembled.

The ink spread.

"Continue," Feng Yun’s warm voice was accompanied with laughter, her deer-like eyes fixed on him, pure and innocent, as though completely unaware of her own misconduct.

Pei Jue remained silent.

The lamp cast accentuated his handsome, serious, and straight face.

Below the brush was:

"A delicate waist devoid of strength, calling for the gentleman to taste lightly..."

He wrote every word, slowly, forcefully.

Until his eyes were tinged with red, and a thin sweat spread across his back...

He couldn’t write anymore.

That tiny foot was white and slender, incredibly nimble, the toenails not painted with rouge, yet fluttering like a powder butterfly playing among flower pistils, the strokes of its oars sketching boats, every flick and poke stirring up great waves...

"Lady Yun..." He looked at Feng Yun sidelong. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and it felt as if there was a flaming blaze burning inside his chest.

He placed the brush down and reached out to embrace her, however, just as his hand was about to rise, she pressed it down with a laugh.

"No rush."

The young lady was crafty with her teasing and provocations, giving no quarter. Her eyes, slightly glazed as if with drunkenness, looked at him provocatively, half-smiling, slowly shedding his wide clothes as if it was a command.

"Lie down."