Through the thin layer of skin, Duan Ling could clearly hear Lin Ting’s heartbeat growing louder with each pulse.
Since he was kissing directly over her heart, the rhythmic thumping seemed to transmit through his lips and tongue, resonating through his entire body, reaching his own heart.
Two hearts beat simultaneously, their rhythms gradually synchronizing until they seemed to merge into one.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Lin Ting seemed to sense it too.
Her fingers curled unconsciously, gripping Duan Ling’s hand in return as she looked down at his bent form.
She could almost confirm it now-it wasn’t that she merely tolerated his closeness, but that she genuinely enjoyed it, this instinctive intimacy devoid of any ulterior motives.
Her eyelashes fluttered slightly.
Affection comes in two forms: physical attraction and emotional attachment.
With Duan Ling, she’d developed the former-drawn irresistibly to his appearance, his scent, his very being, craving proximity without realizing when it began.
This realization made her fingers tighten around his hand, her nails leaving faint red marks that stood out starkly against his skin before she relaxed her grip.
Moments later, Duan Ling straightened, capturing her lips while releasing her hand only to press firmly against the nape of her neck.
Their mouths melded together, tongues intertwining in a dance both heated and damp.
Lin Ting wrapped her arms around his waist, arching up to meet his kiss, her tongue boldly exploring his mouth.
Duan Ling yielded willingly, delighting in her dominance.
The bathwater had cooled, but they were no longer in the tub having migrated to the bed.
Beneath the covers, Lin Ting felt no chill.
Instead, the heat of their embrace warmed her through as Duan Ling continued alternating between featherlight brushes and searing pressure, like a plume that had once barely grazed her heart now branding it indelibly.
The flickering candlelight cast shifting patterns across their entangled forms, alternately veiling them in shadow and baring them to the glow.
Duan Ling lingered at the corners of her mouth, deepening each kiss with controlled desperation-laving every inch of her lips and teeth with meticulous devotion, as if he could never tire of this intimacy and still found it insufficient.
He was nearly obsessed.
Originally reclining, Lin Ting soon found herself lifted into her customary position astride him, once more granted the upper hand to rain kisses downward.
Duan Ling still reveled in receiving her affections, craving the weight of her shadow upon him-though it couldn’t fully envelop his frame, it claimed enough to feel like merciful inclusion within her very being.
Now accustomed to this dynamic, Lin Ting bent forward to kiss him, her restless hands following instinct to tangle in his disheveled hair before trailing down to cradle the base of his skull.
The neck houses vital points for most, both vulnerable and exquisitely sensitive.
Duan Ling was no exception.
Though inherently distrustful and never one to surrender his weaknesses, he’d allowed Lin Ting this hold repeatedly, each time resisting not at all-wishing rather for her grip to tighten, even entertaining fantasies of meeting his end by her hand.
Should Lin Ting ever choose to kill him, his blood might stain her skin…
This thought alone sent pleasure coursing through him—that she could command his body, his very life.
Arching his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbed as soft gasps and murmurs escaped his lips.
This time, as Lin Ting listened to Duan Ling’s restless soft moans and murmurs, she felt she was completely ready to consummate their marriage.
A breeze drifted through the wooden window, extinguishing the candlelight in the room.
Darkness enveloped them as Duan Ling’s wrist guards, belt, and outer robe fell to the floor.
At that moment, Duan Ling caught sight of the twisted, hideous scars on his wrist.
Though the room had darkened, human eyes adjust to dim light, and his scars remained starkly visible, impossible to hide.
The scars had faded slightly-but only slightly.
They hadn’t disappeared, still resembling grotesque worms deeply embedded in his skin, winding and impossible to ignore.
Duan Ling clenched his fist.
Lin Ting withdrew her hand from his hair, no longer wanting to intertwine their fingers—it made her heart tremble too much.
Instead, she moved to grasp his wrist, adjusting their kissing position.
But Duan Ling pulled away.
From above him, Lin Ting could see everything every inch of him, unobstructed.
Duan Ling covered her eyes, halting all other movements.
If they consummated tonight, she would see or feel through their entangled bodies the scars on his wrist.
Even covering her eyes wouldn’t help.
Not to mention, he didn’t want to keep his clothes on during intimacy-it would only make her suspicious.
Better to wait a few more days until the Western medicine arrived to remove the scars.
In the meantime, he could learn to conceal his cravings.
Now, whenever desire took hold, touching Lin Ting made him lose all control-each time worse than the last.
He couldn’t restrain his intensity, always wanting more.
The last few times, he had even ruined her handkerchief.
She couldn’t find out.
He despised this addiction himself how much more would she?
Duan Ling’s gaze darkened.
Suddenly blinded by his hand, Lin Ting was baffled.
“What’s wrong?” Was he trying some blindfolded play?
Duan Ling removed his hand, rose from the bed, and turned his back to her as he picked up his clothes and dressed.
They weren’t going through with it?
Lin Ting watched him dress, even more confused.
She had thought tonight would finally complete their wedding night, but he had stopped abruptly.
Still, she stayed silent.
“You got caught in the rain earlier you should rest early tonight,” Duan Ling said, still facing away, his long hair cascading to his waist.
“I haven’t bathed yet. I’ll go wash first.”
She responded belatedly, “Oh.”
He walked to the wardrobe for fresh clothes and called servants in to replace the cooled bathwater.
The servants filed in silently, eyes fixed on the floor, swiftly changing the water and adding scented oils without making a sound, careful not to disturb them.
Only after they left did Duan Ling step away from the wardrobe, draw the curtain, and undress to enter the bath.
Meanwhile, Lin Ting curled up on the bed behind drawn curtains, wiping herself with a handkerchief before dressing her body’s natural response to their kisses had left her damp.
She pulled the covers over herself, staring at the canopy, listening to Duan Ling bathe.
After what had just happened, sleep was the last thing on her mind.
She buried herself in the blankets, rolling around restlessly.
By the time Duan Ling finished bathing and returned to bed, Lin Ting was still awake, peeking out at him from under the covers.
Their gazes locked, neither willing to look away first.
Lin Ting’s eyes drifted to Duan Ling’s slightly flushed cheek from the steam, then lingered on his lips that had just been pressed against hers.
Grasping for words, she remarked pointlessly, “You’ve finished your bath.”
Even she knew it was a meaningless comment.
Duan Ling responded anyway, “Yes, finished bathing. Why aren’t you resting yet?”
“I can’t sleep.”
The moment she said it, Lin Ting realized how suggestive it sounded.
She promptly shut her mouth and buried her face back in the blankets.
Heaven knew she hadn’t meant it that way, but explaining would only make it seem more suspicious.
Duan Ling pulled back the covers to reveal her face and brought up tonight’s assassination attempt on the Crown Prince.
“Since you’re awake, let me ask you something. If the assassin tonight had really been Jin Anazi, what would you have done?”
Was this never going to end?
Had she known he’d keep questioning about Jin Anazi, she would have pretended to be asleep.
Now it was too late.
After a brief silence, Lin Ting countered, “What do you think I would have done?”
With an unreadable expression, Duan Ling toyed with a strand of her loose hair, winding it around his finger.
“I think you would have helped him.”
The tug on her scalp made Lin Ting glance at his hand.
“If Jin Anazi had been the assassin tonight and I’d encountered him, I would have helped. After all, he’s my friend—I couldn’t just stand by and watch him die.”
Though Jin Anazi truly had gone to assassinate the Crown Prince, since Duan Ling was speaking hypothetically, she answered honestly.
Duan Ling released her hair, leaving the strand he’d twisted slightly curled.
“You’d go that far for him? Do you know what the penalty is for aiding a royal assassin? It’s the same crime.”
Lin Ting nodded.
“I know.”
Having lived all these years without forming friendships, Duan Ling couldn’t comprehend her actions.
“People would go this far for friends?”
After a thoughtful pause, Lin Ting replied, “I can’t speak for others, but I would. Of course, I wouldn’t recklessly endanger myself either. I’d secure an escape route first, then help within my means.”
His gaze remained intently on her.
“Even so, you treat Jin Anazi exceptionally well.”
Lin Ting met his eyes steadily.
“Reciprocity matters-I return the kindness shown to me.”
To distance Jin Anazi from suspicion, she added, “But Jin Anazi definitely couldn’t have been tonight’s assassin.”
Without batting an eye, she stated firmly, “He’s a man of the jianghu. Even if hired for jobs, he’d never dare assassinate the Crown Prince— that’s a capital offense.”
Duan Ling chuckled softly.
“You’re right. Jin Anazi stays clear of court affairs and has no grudge against the Crown Prince. It’s highly unlikely it was him.”
Lin Ting didn’t know how to respond.
Duan Ling turned his face away.
“Perhaps it was too dark, and I mistook the assassin for Jin Anazi. Besides, he should still be in the capital -why would he appear in Ancheng?”
Lin Ting studied Duan Ling’s profile.
His persistent questions about Jin Anazi-had he encountered him in Ancheng and was now testing her?
She didn’t take the bait.