The White Moonlight Turns Out to Be a Black-Hearted Lotus - Chapter 11

Ji Yuanhui was the typical type who could be swayed by persuasion but would never yield to force. After hearing those words, his handsome face flushed, and he suddenly felt a bit embarrassed for continuing to tease the other.

He released Pei Xu’s wrist and lifted the quilt to wrap them both together. “No more playing around. Go to sleep.”

With his face flushed pink, Pei Xu lay propped up on Ji Yuanhui’s chest, the quilt tented slightly over him. “Is Your Highness not going to continue?”

“Continue what?” Ji Yuanhui felt along his waist and gave his backside a light swat. “This?”

Pei Xu’s face grew even redder at Ji Yuanhui’s suggestive gesture. He let out a soft “mm,” not daring to look up, and said in a tiny voice, “It has been a long time since Your Highness and I were married…”

As he spoke, as if having made a firm resolution, he hooked a finger around his garment’s sash and tugged at it; it loosened with ease.

The inner robes of early spring were not thick. They slipped lightly from Pei Xu’s body, and as they piled up on the quilt, Ji Yuanhui’s stalled brain finally realized exactly what was happening.

By then, Pei Xu had moved closer. His eyelashes fluttered uneasily; though he was doing his best to hide his nervousness, he still couldn’t steady his wrists. He spent a long time fumbling with Ji Yuanhui’s sash but failed to undo it, instead pulling it into an even tighter knot.

Looking somewhat at a loss, he temporarily gave up on the sash and, in a fit of desperate improvisation, turned to kissing him, attempting to provoke him in a very direct yet green manner.

Ji Yuanhui’s eyes went wide. He swallowed hard and then hurriedly stopped him. “Wait—wait, wait, wait, wait—what are you doing?”

With his wrists caught, a deeply hurt expression appeared on Pei Xu’s face. “Is Your Highness dissatisfied with me in some way? Tell me, and I can change.”

Dissatisfied where?

Ji Yuanhui looked down instinctively. The skin that met his gaze was smooth and supple, fair and lustrous like jade. The collarbones were exquisite and bony, the shoulders rounded, with dark hair cascading down to half-conceal and half-reveal.

The snowy-white soft flesh spilled from between his fingers, eye-catchingly pale. Ji Yuanhui tightened his grip slightly; Pei Xu gave a small shudder, unable to suppress a soft moan from his throat.

That sound brought back a sliver of Ji Yuanhui’s sanity. He jerked his hand back, feeling a bit annoyed at his own momentary lapse.

Wait—I can’t look anymore.

“No, I’m not dissatisfied.” Ji Yuanhui forced himself to look away from Pei Xu, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I like you more than I can bear.”

Pei Xu seemed not to understand. “Then why…”

Ji Yuanhui wrapped him up in the quilt before daring to turn back to look at him. “My royal mother once told me that being too young for childbirth is bad for the body.”

Muffled inside the quilt, Pei Xu only showed his eyes. “I’m not that young. After this birthday, I’ll be nineteen by nominal age…”

“Nominal age? Why do you like making yourself sound older so much?” Ji Yuanhui rolled him up and tucked him against the side of the wall. “Weren’t you the one whose fingers were almost tied in knots from fear just now? Since you’re afraid, why insist on initiating this?”

Pei Xu’s eyes darted around, pretending it was inconvenient to speak while wrapped up.

Ji Yuanhui tugged at the quilt to fully expose his face. “Speak.”

Seeing no way to escape, Pei Xu blinked his damp eyes, trying to burrow into Ji Yuanhui’s embrace.

Ji Yuanhui reached out, pinching both sides of his cheeks to hold him in place, and said coolly, “Acting spoiled won’t work. Speak properly.”

They remained at a standstill for a moment before Pei Xu asked in a small voice, “If I tell the truth, can Your Highness promise not to be angry?”

Ji Yuanhui let go of him, propping himself up on one arm while resting the other across him. “Say it. I won’t be angry.”

Pei Xu stopped looking at him, his fingers pinching the corner of the quilt. “Because I am afraid…”

Ji Yuanhui was puzzled. “Afraid of what?”

Pei Xu seemed unable to sort it out himself, speaking in a muddled way. “I… I am just so afraid… afraid that one day Your Highness will suddenly stop liking me.”

The fingers Ji Yuanhui had been tapping against the quilt came to a halt. His brow furrowed as he pulled Pei Xu into an embrace. “Why think that? Did I do something wrong?”

A look of bewilderment appeared on Pei Xu’s face; he seemingly hadn’t expected Ji Yuanhui’s response to be like this. “If I say this, is Your Highness not angry with me?”

“If you tell me what’s on your mind, we can find a way together. Why would I be angry?” Ji Yuanhui stroked his cheek, brushing his thumb across his eye socket. “I only get angry when you won’t tell me anything. Alright, now continue. Why do you think that?”

“Your Highness is very good to me, but I’m just afraid. It’s just like when I was very young—my father was also very good to my mother, but later…” Pei Xu’s eyes blinked slowly. “Your Highness already knows what happened later.”

Ji Yuanhui gave a hum of affirmation, silently wiping away Pei Xu’s tears. “I know.”

“No one felt sad or pained for my mother. She was so pitiful; except for me, no one is willing to earnestly remember her.” Pei Xu’s eyes gazed blankly at some spot, finding no rest. “I have no relatives left. If one day Your Highness no longer cares for me, then truly no one will remember me. Even if I died of illness in some corner, no one would ever know.”

“If only I could have a child.” Pei Xu’s tone softened. “Just as I remember my mother, at least my child would truly love me and remember me.”

“I don’t want to just leave soundlessly like that. I want there to be someone who occasionally remembers me…”

“Even if it’s only one person…”

Ji Yuanhui felt nothing but heartache and anger.

Heartache that Pei Xu had never truly stepped out from the shadows after all these years; anger that the old wretch Pei Ji’s actions had caused Pei Xu to likely harbor suspicions toward every man in the world who held the title of “husband.”

Pei Xu couldn’t help but draw close to him, yet he was constantly terrified that one day he would be like his own father—transforming without warning from a kind father and virtuous husband into an executioner.

This kind of mindset couldn’t be corrected overnight. Once their days became stable and they didn’t have to guard against this or endure that every day, he would have time to spend with Pei Xu to wear away the hours, and Pei Xu would naturally forget to worry about such things.

Pei Xu’s willingness to share these hidden thoughts proved that, subconsciously, he already trusted and relied on him deeply; he simply hadn’t worked through the mental knot yet.

Ji Yuanhui decided to point it out to him.

“Rongrong… I am also your family. I will never leave you alone.” Ji Yuanhui held him as he spoke. “Although you keep saying you’re afraid I’ll suddenly stop liking you, in your heart, you are already certain that I love you to death and would absolutely never do that.”

“You couldn’t be unaware of how sure you are of this, could you?” Seeing Pei Xu’s dazed expression, Ji Yuanhui laughed. “You are clearly acting out of certainty. Otherwise, with your cunning personality, why would you voluntarily hand over a weakness like ‘I’m afraid you won’t like me’?”

“Unless you are very aware that this isn’t a weakness for you at all, you wouldn’t be relaxed enough to speak of it.”

Ji Yuanhui kissed his forehead twice. “I know you’ve just had too much to consider lately; you’re too tired, and so you’ve started overthinking. You’ve been so busy you’ve muddled your own brain, unable to distinguish why you’re actually unsettled. You aren’t afraid of me not liking you—you clearly just want me to kiss you a few more times.”

He trusted Ji Yuanhui completely, but his heart remained restless. He wanted comfort, and so in his pain and confusion, he instinctively sought help from Ji Yuanhui by baring his soul.

Pei Xu’s expression was blank. He even forgot to cry, as if he hadn’t quite processed things yet.

Ji Yuanhui mused, “It seems I still kiss you too little normally, leaving you with the energy to let your thoughts wander.”

He stared at Pei Xu for a while, then leaned down to kiss him. Pei Xu’s hands were braced against his chest at first, but then they moved to wrap around his neck. Amidst the entanglement of lips and tongues, Ji Yuanhui tasted the saltiness of bitterness—likely the tears he hadn’t wiped clean just now.

After kissing for a while, Ji Yuanhui pulled away, breathless. “Are you still sad?”

Pei Xu said blankly, “No…”

“That’s it then. In the future, when I return from duty, we’ll kiss for a while before doing anything else.” Ji Yuanhui pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “Is it because I’ve been too busy lately, and you’ve only had trivial matters to handle at home, so you’ve been too lonely? The Ministry of Personnel is almost done with the arrangements. You should be taking office around the time your birthday passes.”

“If you really like children that much… then we’ll have a whole brood of them. We’ll have two daughters. It would be great if the girls were like Ji Lingyi—fond of running, jumping, and riding horses. Girls still need to have some skills to protect themselves. When the time comes, the Tiger Tally will be snapped in two, one half for each.”

Ji Yuanhui toyed with his fingers. “If we have boys, we’ll let them grow up wild. Boys are hardy; as long as they don’t die, it’ll be fine.”

Ji Lingyi was Ji Yuanhui’s sister from the same mother, fourteen years old this year. Pei Xu had met this princess at the banquet on their wedding day—a very spirited and beautiful young girl who had watched him with curious and friendly eyes across the crowded guests and then smiled at him.

Pei Xu instinctively began to imagine: if it were a daughter, she would probably resemble her aunt and be a very lovely child.

“Don’t rush into some things.” Ji Yuanhui was still rambling softly. “Since you’re afraid, don’t force yourself. It’s best not to start until you’re ready. I like you too much; I can’t control it. If we really start, we won’t be able to stop. By then, it will be too late even if you regret it…”

Perhaps exhausted from crying, Pei Xu fell into a muddled sleep listening to Ji Yuanhui’s whispers.

He did not sleep soundly. As the saying goes, what one thinks of by day, one dreams of by night—he dreamed of his mother.

In the dream, it was likely the days when Pei Ji was still serving as a local Commandery Governor. The estate wasn’t very large, but the gardens were exquisite—a scene at every step, full of charm.

Pei Xu was probably only six or seven, walking beneath the long corridors, draped in gold, silver, and jade ornaments chosen by his mother. As he moved, the metal and stone clinked together with a clear, lingering sound.

After a few steps, he sat down to learn music by his mother’s side. Today was the guqin, tomorrow the pipa.

At that time, he was not a gentle or easygoing child. He didn’t like playing with children his own age, thinking they only knew how to run around like mad all day, getting filthy. They hadn’t read the books he had, so they had nothing to talk about.

He was used to holding his head high, tilting his chin up, and ignoring everyone.