This medicine is useless on Duan Ling, which means his actions that night had nothing to do with the drug’s effect.
According to what Duan Ling said, does that mean things like knockout drugs or poisons also don’t work on him?
No wonder the knockout drug didn’t affect him—she’d thought he knew in advance what she was going to do and had taken the antidote.
Lin Ting swallowed.
But how could Duan Ling be a Medicine Man?
The original novel never mentioned this.
Lin Ting didn’t know much about Medicine Men, but she’d read about them in other novels—they were people used for drug testing, basically a different kind of “test subject.”
In any case, it’s not a good thing.
Lin Ting was about to ask, but Duan Ling kissed her again, his nose brushing past hers, grazing her skin, then their lips and teeth met, their tongues entwined, the kiss growing deeper.
Lin Ting couldn’t speak at all, so she’d have to save her questions for tomorrow.
The reason she’d wait until tomorrow, and not just after they finished tonight, was because she’d fall straight asleep the moment they were done—there was no way she could ask anything.
Lin Ting looked at Duan Ling’s face, so close at hand—his skin and features were nearly flawless.
Duan Ling habitually held the back of Lin Ting’s neck, pressing forward just a bit, deepening the kiss.
He kept his lips slightly parted, licking and tangling with hers.
Lin Ting couldn’t help but wrap her arms around Duan Ling’s neck, matching his kiss.
His kiss was gentle, but it also carried an undercurrent of aggression.
Lin Ting thought that tonight she ought to take the initiative, seize control, set the pace herself—otherwise, things might spiral out of control like that night.
In the past half month, they’d been intimate, just not as many times in one night as that first time—though it was still more than most people, but less than that night by two times.
So Lin Ting had thought Duan Ling’s “illness” made him need it at a frequency she could still barely accept.
She hadn’t expected that he’d actually been holding back, and that night with the Aphrodisiac was his true self.
Lin Ting’s heart pounded like a drum.
The next moment, she pulled Duan Ling’s hand, pushed him down onto the Luohan Couch—he didn’t resist—and straddled him, leaning down to kiss him, her already loose skirt draping over his robe.
Duan Ling’s belt slipped to the floor.
He interlaced his fingers with Lin Ting’s, slowly closed his eyes, and let her kiss him.
Lin Ting kissed along the corner of Duan Ling’s lips—his thin lips were soft and warm, the sensation so good it seemed to tempt her to kiss him harder.
In fact, that’s what she did—she kissed him more forcefully.
Duan Ling’s lips grew redder from the friction, as if they’d been painted with rouge.
His Adam’s apple bobbed restlessly, a moan spilling out.
Whenever Lin Ting took the initiative, Duan Ling became sensitive—just a touch would make him tremble.
Even if Lin Ting was only kissing him, doing nothing else, Duan Ling’s pleasure would quickly peak and then burst like fireworks.
The temperature in the room rose, while the cold wind outside was kept out by the closed doors and windows.
A thin sheen of sweat formed on Duan Ling’s forehead, his fingertips reddening as he gripped Lin Ting’s hand tightly.
At this moment, Lin Ting tilted her head slightly, her narrow, straight nose brushing his face, her breath falling on his skin like a brand.
Duan Ling’s eyes fluttered, the corners tinged red, a drop of sweat sliding down his lashes like a tear.
Lin Ting wasn’t faring much better—she truly felt that kissing was a workout.
It was just moving your lips, but somehow it made her hot and tired.
There was another sensation as well—whenever she kissed Duan Ling, it often felt like a gentle electric shock, not painful but numbing, accompanied by an indescribable thrill.
As that thrill built up, it felt like a thread of water quietly flowing through her, soothing and pleasant, until it rushed to one spot and spilled out.
When Lin Ting kissed Duan Ling, she would also hold his neck—right now, her hand was on the side of his neck.
Holding the back of the neck and the side felt different—the latter could easily brush the Adam’s apple by accident.
Lin Ting’s thumb moved unconsciously, her finger pad pressing lightly on Duan Ling’s Adam’s apple.
Duan Ling’s neck arched uncontrollably, his Adam’s apple trembling and bobbing violently, as if he’d been bullied too harshly and couldn’t take it.
He let go of Lin Ting’s hand and wrapped his arms around her waist.
His palms were hot, and the moment they landed on Lin Ting’s waist, she felt a tingling numbness there.
Lin Ting kissed from the corner of Duan Ling’s lips to his cheek.
The more she kissed him, the more skilled she became, her hands and feet growing restless.
Her hand moved up from the side of Duan Ling’s neck and pinched his earlobe as it passed.
Because Lin Ting remembered that Duan Ling always liked to kiss her earlobes, and hers were sensitive, she wanted to pinch his earlobe and see if he was the same.
The moment Lin Ting pinched Duan Ling’s earlobe, his whole body shuddered, his beautiful voice trembling as well: “Lin Leyun……”
She suddenly felt a little guilty, stopped pinching his earlobe, and kissed his slightly parted lips to comfort him.
Duan Ling hugged her even tighter.
Lin Ting felt Duan Ling was holding her too tightly.
While kissing him, she freed one hand to pry his hand off her waist.
Even though he was holding her tight, once Lin Ting pried, his hand loosened, and he interlaced his fingers with hers again.
In just an instant, it was Duan Ling kissing Lin Ting instead—he moved behind her, pressing against her back, kissing from her cheek to her nape and shoulders, like a slippery snake.
Lin Ting gripped the armrest of the Luohan Couch tightly.
She suddenly realized she’d failed to seize control tonight—Duan Ling’s kisses made her mind foggy, and she’d forgotten all about taking the lead.
Lin Ting’s heart followed the movement of Duan Ling’s kisses, damp and burning, like a blast of hot wind in the dry, cold winter, seeping into her body inch by inch, warming her to the core.
Wind is formless, often stirring the heart unseen, but the hot wind Duan Ling brought was tangible, leaving trails of warmth inside her again and again.
Duan Ling was still kissing her.
After a long while, the heat from their kisses—or perhaps something else—transformed into a torrent, bursting forth like warm rain nourishing flowers and trees, sweeping through her body with its warmth.
Now, Lin Ting felt no cold at all, only endless waves of heat.
Just as she turned to look at Duan Ling, who was kissing her shoulder from behind, he leaned in and kissed her lips.
The mirror facing the Luohan Couch reflected their entwined figures clearly.
Lin Ting lay on the Luohan Couch, Duan Ling pressed behind her, kissing her cheek and nape, their long hair tangled together, indistinguishable, the ugly and the beautiful intertwined, inseparable.
***
The day they set out for Jingcheng, it rained as well.
Rain poured down, the sky was dark, and occasional lightning flashed, illuminating everything for a moment before darkness returned.
They chose not the water route but the land route to return to Jingcheng.
Several carriages in a line traveled the official road, the wheels rolling through wet sand and mud, moving steadily forward.
Lin Ting sat casually in one of the carriages, with Duan Xinning lying in her arms.
The driver of this carriage was someone Xia Zimo had specially arranged before they left, keeping it from the Crown Prince.
The official road was fairly smooth, and the driver was steady, so there was little bumping, and Duan Xinning could rest comfortably inside—she was still prone to sleepiness.
Xia Zimo had to stay in Ancheng with his father and couldn’t return to Jingcheng with them, so he had to find other ways to take care of Duan Xinning.
Lin Ting looked down at Duan Xinning in her arms and pulled the blanket that had slipped to her waist back up.
Duan Xinning burrowed deeper into Lin Ting’s embrace.
Her body was soft and warm, and Lin Ting found holding her quite comfortable.
Both Duan siblings had warm bodies—hugging them felt like holding a heater.
Lin Ting was more than a little envious.
She was the type whose hands and feet turned icy in winter, and even under the covers, she couldn’t get warm.
She touched Duan Xinning’s rosy cheek, and Duan Xinning burrowed closer.
There was a brazier in the carriage.
Zhilan heated some water on it, brewed a pot of tea, and poured a cup for Lin Ting:
“Young Madam, have some tea.”
She spoke softly, afraid to wake Duan Xinning.
Lin Ting reached out to take the tea, drank it, and put it down.
Zhilan lifted the curtain and peeked outside.
The rain was still pouring on the official road, showing no sign of letting up—in fact, it looked like it might get heavier.
After heavy rain, it would get even colder.
Zhilan was worried about Duan Xinning catching a chill.
Lin Ting also glanced forward through the curtain.
She wanted to take care of Duan Xinning, so she stayed in this carriage, not riding with Duan Ling—his carriage was just ahead of theirs.
She watched ahead, lost in thought.
As expected, after she and Duan Ling finished last night, she’d fallen asleep.
It was only the next day that she asked him why he was a Medicine Man, but Duan Ling didn’t give her a reason.
Lin Ting withdrew her gaze and her thoughts.
Suddenly, Duan Xinning seemed to have a nightmare, her brows furrowing as she mumbled something and clutched Lin Ting’s clothes tightly.
Lin Ting heard this and decided not to let Duan Xinning keep sleeping: “Duan Xinning, wake up.”
Duan Xinning woke, drenched in sweat.