The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"...What...what happened?"

As Li Shuang looked at the scene before her, countless thoughts raced through her mind.

The princess, soaking wet, was held in Lord Mu Liang's arms, her face flushed and her clothes disheveled.

Are they going all out tonight?

Are they playing some kind of game in the bathhouse?

Who knew Lord Mu Liang was so savvy!

But Lord Asaka wasn't with us?

She dared not think any further.

This scene felt like a complete carnage!

In particular, he was caught red-handed by General Feng.

"His Highness has been poisoned."

Mu Liang paused, his voice low and steady.

He glanced at Feng Zhuo, a glance so brief it was almost imperceptible.

Ke Fengzhuo understood.

He was heartbroken and devastated.

When the gift box fell from his hands, he felt as if his heart had shattered into pieces.

But when the word "poisoning" reached his ears, all his disappointment and bitterness vanished in an instant, replaced by worry.

He bent down, picked up the gift box, and handed it to Li Shuang.

Then, he strode after him.

Deep within the bedroom, the candlelight glowed warmly, like the late-returning spring sun, weaving the room's warm light into soft, wispy smoke.

Tangxi Snow was gently placed on the bed.

Her dark hair spread out, forming a languid nightscape, the ends winding across the lotus-colored brocade rug, like spring water overflowing a newly thawed riverbed.

The young general bent down and touched her forehead.

The crimson outfit with a qilin pattern covered the sharp shoulder line, the metal arm guards were cold, but the fingertips were warm.

The fingertips are calloused, yet hot to the touch.

He reached for the unusual blush on her forehead, his brow furrowing slightly, his heart skipping a beat before he could even think.

"Ah Xue—"

The name that had been hidden for over a decade had barely escaped her lips when it was enveloped by a pair of soft arms around her neck.

He was caught off guard, falling into the misty, shimmering light in her eyes.

She looked up at him.

Those usually clear and bright peach blossom eyes now seemed to be filled with melting spring water.

The light, shimmering and rippling, reflected his astonished expression and the flickering candlelight that filled the room.

next moment.

Her lips pressed against mine.

It's very light.

The first drop of rain gently taps on the green tiles after Qingming Festival, and the wind gently kisses the first petal of the lotus that blooms in the early summer night.

He didn't even have time to close his eyes.

He could only stare blankly at her eyelashes, which were so close to his face, shimmering with tiny drops of water, trembling gently like the wings of a fledgling bird flapping for the first time before taking flight.

"Burn...it."

She called his name, panting.

Her voice was as soft as melted honey, so sweet it was almost burning, with a subtle tremor at the end.

The tremor traveled down her lips, into his bloodstream, and exploded into a shower of stars.

Feng Zhuo felt that at this moment, the heart in his chest had completely betrayed his control.

It jumped wildly.

Like the first thunderclap of the Awakening of Insects rolling across the sky, it awakens all things that have been dormant under the frozen earth for a whole winter.

It crashed.

Like the raging tide of the Azure Moon Sea crashing against the stone embankment, wave after wave surged higher and higher, almost shattering ribs into dust.

He didn't know how to describe the feeling.

It was clearly Xue who was poisoned, it was clearly Xue who was burned by the poison.

"Ah, Ah Xue..."

But he felt that she had ignited his entire being.

Start burning from the tip of the ear.

The burning sensation was scalding hot, frantic, and something a young man couldn't hide or suppress.

The heat quickly spread across my cheeks, down my neck, and over my heart.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the mattress, and the calluses on his fingertips brushed against the brocade, making a soft, restrained rustling sound.

He wanted to push her away.

She's still not fully conscious; she shouldn't be like this.

He longed to meld her into his very being.

I've wanted to knead it in, hide it away, for many years now.

But she was still kissing him.

One moment, one moment, gently.

Like the spring breeze repeatedly brushing across the thawing ice, like the drizzle soaking the parched desert night after night.

He felt like he was going to melt.

It melted in her palm, melted on her lips, melted in the gentle candlelight that filled the room.

Ah Xue is kissing him.

This realization was like a wildfire, burning away all the self-made things he had been proud of for the past twenty years.

The lighter her kiss, the harder his heart pounded.

The slower her kiss, the more disordered his breathing became.

He even forgot to breathe.

It wasn't until his chest felt so tight and painful that he suddenly realized—that a person can feel both drowning in the deep sea and ascending to paradise in the same instant.

She stepped back slightly.

Her face was flushed, and tiny drops of water clung to her eyelashes as she gazed at him hazily.

That one glance.

Like the first rain after the Awakening of Insects, it roused him from his daze.

It was like the last spring breeze before the start of summer, blowing away all his remaining rationality.

He suddenly didn't want to wait any longer.

So many years, countless days and nights.

So he waited.

He would wait until she grew up, until he achieved great military exploits and was worthy of her, until she might, perhaps, look at him the way he looked at her.

Now she is in his arms, her lips still warm from his touch, and the corners of her eyes still flushed with the blush that comes from him.

Why should he wait?

Feng Zhuo lowered her eyelashes.

Those eyes, usually sharp and cold on the battlefield, now drooped into two gentle crescent moons.

But when his Adam's apple bobbed, the sharp lines clearly revealed the young general's uncontrollable, wolf-like possessiveness.

next moment.

He bent down.

It's not a probing question, not a test.

His lips descended, burning with the desperate intensity of a young man, silencing all her unspoken gasps.

The young general launched a counterattack.

His kisses were still awkward, like a novice rider struggling to control the reins, unable to rein himself in or her.

But he was so domineering that no argument was allowed, like a sudden rainstorm hitting new lotus leaves, like the north wind sweeping up the first snow, like the tide that had been building up for more than a decade finally breaking through the dam.

"Um……"

She gave a soft hum and traced her fingertips up the back of his neck.

He became even more unruly.

With one hand supporting himself on the side of her pillow and the other hand running through her flowing black hair, he pulled her even deeper into the bed between his burning chest and his own.

The crimson of the Qilin-patterned outfit intertwines with the lotus-colored brocade quilt, like the inseparable entanglement of flowers and mud in late spring.

The jade bracelet on her wrist touched his arm guard with a clear, crisp sound—the most melodious rhythm of the night.

He finally decided to step back half an inch.

He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath coming in jumbled, chaotic gasps.

"Ah Xue".

He called her name, his breath coming in short gasps, his voice hoarse like sandpaper rubbing against sandalwood, rustling and heavy, carrying a slight tremor that the young man was trying hard to suppress but couldn't quite control.

"You provoked me first."

He paused, his eyes still moist, but the candlelight made them shine brightly.

Like the sky after a rainstorm, a gap appears in the clouds, letting in a handful of sunlight.

"It was true twelve years ago, and it's true tonight."

He tilted his head slightly, his nose brushing against hers.

The docile, affectionate, wolf cub-like behavior of snuggling with its owner.

"Since you started this fire..."

His voice softened, lowered, and sank into the delicate, warm fragrance emanating from the side of her neck.

"Don't even think about wiping it out."

outside the window.

The spring breeze is gentle, and the Milky Way is silent.

The celestial phenomena of the four seasons passed before his eyes one by one.

Her eyes were like the first rain after the Awakening of Insects, nourishing his barren fields that had been desolate for twelve years.

Her body temperature was like the fullest sunlight during the Grain in Ear season, which ripened the apricot tree that he had carefully hidden in his heart for many years.

Her lips were like the early morning breeze before the summer solstice, which made him lose his composure and his soul.

And her name—

Snow in Tangxi.

She is the last flower that refuses to wither after the autumnal equinox, the first snowflake that falls into his palm at the winter solstice, and the warm sun of the spring equinox that never sets in his heart.

His life was just like the most ordinary four seasons on the calendar.

There is spring planting, autumn harvest, harsh winter, and scorching summer.

And then she arrived.

She then became—

The four solar terms are: Awakening of Insects, Grain in Ear, Summer Solstice, Frost's Descent, Winter Solstice, and Spring Equinox.

He became the reason why every day was worth kneeling down and worshipping him.

The room was filled with the flickering red candlelight.

The young general buried his face in the warm crook of her neck, like a fledgling bird that had finally found its way home after a long and arduous journey.

His heart was still pounding.

Her heart was pounding wildly.

Two hearts, separated by a thin layer of skin, resonated with each other, like spring thunder rolling over distant mountains, its echo crashing into another valley.

This love is like a deep valley, its echoes resounding with every thought.

he thinks.

So this is what the human world is like.

So this is what the human world is like—hot and scorching.

"...Burn it."

Her voice was muffled inside his clothes, carrying a faint sob, as light as a melting snowflake.

"I... feel unwell."

Feng Zhuo's heart felt like it was being gripped tightly, aching terribly.

He stretched out his hand.

His fingertip hovered three inches above her head, paused again and again, and finally fell down—gently, as if afraid of shattering a handful of newly gathered snow.

"Ah Xue".

His voice was so hoarse it was unrecognizable.

The words of comfort rolled through his throat a thousand times, but only these two words came out.

"...Don't cry."

He paused for a moment.

He heard himself say:

"I...I'll help you."

As soon as the words were spoken, a fiery ignition erupted from the tips of her ears, instantly spreading like wildfire.

The young general endured seventeen arrows and twenty-three sword wounds on the battlefield without ever flinching.

At this moment, my fingertips trembled like the first tender leaf on a spring branch, startled by the wind.

He bent down.

There was no urgency, no abruptness.

It was very light and very slow.

Like turning the pages of a book of poems that have been treasured for many years.

His fingertips touched the hem of her dress, which was covering her eyes, and he paused, waiting for her.

Waiting for her breath, her permission, the rhythm of her fluttering eyelashes.

She didn't dodge.

He continued.

He lifted the hem of her dress by an inch, like a curtain being lifted by the wind on a spring night, letting in a sliver of soft moonlight.

He lowered his eyes, not daring to look at her.

Her ear tips were so red they looked like they were about to bleed, and her breathing was as erratic as a horse that had lost its reins.

But his fingertips remained steady.

He was afraid of making her cold, afraid of startling her, afraid of being too hot, burning the snow he had carefully tended to for twelve years.

I'm even more afraid that my heartbeat is too loud and will shatter the peaceful candlelight in this room.