Normally, even when awake, she might grow breathless from prolonged kisses-let alone in slumber, where she struggled even more.
Lin Ting pushed Duan Ling away.
He withdrew briefly, waiting for her to catch her breath before leaning in again.
Still asleep, she dreamt of drowning, reverting to her restless nature-swinging a slap at Duan Ling, followed by a kick, before turning away to resume her sleep.
Ignoring the red mark on his face, Duan Ling kissed her shoulder from behind.
The next day, Lin Ting slept until noon, lounging in bed until hunger gnawed at her stomach, forcing her to rise for food-otherwise, she might have lazed until afternoon.
As for Duan Ling, she assumed he’d left early for his duties, no longer in the room.
Lin Ting called for servants to bring water, stretching and yawning repeatedly, her exhaustion evident as she sluggishly sat before the mirror to comb her hair.
Halfway through, she dozed off, collapsing onto the table.
When the servants entered with water and found her asleep, they hesitated, unsure whether to wake her.
At that moment, someone entered the room, walked past the maids, and approached Lin Ting.
He removed the sandalwood comb stuck in her hair and gently lifted her long tresses, continuing to comb them with unhurried strokes.
The servants, seeing Duan Ling, set down the water and left, leaving only the two of them in the room.
The sensation of the sandalwood comb gliding through her hair was soothing.
Half-asleep, Lin Ting mistook it for a servant tending to her hair and murmured, “Feels so nice…”
In the past, Lin Ting would have caught the scent of agarwood on Duan Ling, but not today.
After last night, the fragrance lingering on her was no less potent than his perhaps even richer.
“What would you like to eat?”
Still lying with her eyes closed, Lin Ting replied, “I want roasted chicken, braised duck, steamed lamb, and braised pork trotters. Eating all that together might be a bit heavy, so I’ll need a bowl of sour plum soup to cut through the richness.”
“Alright, I’ll arrange it.”
Wait, that voice didn’t belong to a servant.
It was Duan Ling’s.
Lin Ting’s eyelids fluttered open.
“Don’t you have official duties today?”
Duan Ling opened her jewelry box, selecting ribbons and hair ornaments.
“I delegated some tasks to the Imperial Guards under me.”
Lin Ting understood he had originally been on duty but changed his plans.
She sat up straight, studying Duan Ling’s reflection in the mirror.
His left cheek was slightly redder than the right.
“What happened to your face? The left side looks a bit flushed.”
“I bumped into something.”
The slap she’d given him last night had been harder than before, and the mark hadn’t fully faded.
Lin Ting eyed him skeptically.
“You bumped into something?”
Duan Ling, clumsy?
Someone as reckless as her might, but he was highly skilled in martial arts and quick to react-it seemed unlikely.
Duan Ling remained expressionless.
“Yes, last night.”
“When last night? I don’t remember that.”
Lin Ting scratched her head, trying to recall.
Their intimacy had been gentle, unhurried, with her leading nothing that would have caused either of them to bump into anything.
After finishing her hair, Duan Ling replied calmly, “After you fell asleep.”
Lin Ting had indeed dozed off before him, exhausted, her eyelids too heavy to keep open.
Once asleep, she’d been oblivious.
“How did you bump into something?” The mark didn’t look like an accident―more like a strike.
But who would dare hit him?
“A door.”
Lin Ting studied him a moment longer but saw no reason for him to lie.
Dismissing her doubts, she rummaged through a cabinet.
“Let me find some ointment for you.”
Duan Ling remained indifferent.
“It’s hardly an injury. No need for ointment.”
“I know you’re an Imperial Guard and no stranger to pain, but you should still treat it. I always carry bruise ointment for my own bumps and scrapes when traveling.”
Finding the jar, she unscrewed it.
“Bend down-I’ll apply it.”
Relenting, Duan Ling leaned toward her.
Lin Ting dabbed her fingers in the ointment and smoothed it over his faintly reddened skin.
Gazing at his face so close to hers, a thought struck her.
Hesitantly, she asked, “Did… I hit you in my sleep?”
He denied it.
“No.”
“Good.”
Even if she were prone to thrashing in her sleep, Duan Ling’s reflexes would let him evade easily.
He was, after all, an Imperial Guard—why would he just stand there and take it?
Lin Ting let out a relieved sigh as she replaced the medicinal plaster and stood up.
“It’ll heal soon enough.”
After washing up, she scanned the room but couldn’t spot the red dress and skirt they’d worn the previous night.
Anxiously, she asked, “Where are last night’s clothes? Did you have the servants take them to wash?”
Normally, the servants handled laundry, and Lin Ting rarely concerned herself with it.
But those red garments had been used to wipe their… fluids, leaving stains she’d intended to clean herself.
Duan Ling replied, “I washed them.”
Her eyes widened with disbelief.
“You washed them?”
“Is that not allowed?”
“Well… it’s not that.”
Even after their intimacy, the thought of Duan Ling personally laundering her undergarments gave her an indescribable feeling-mainly because she couldn’t picture this nobleman scrubbing her bellyband and underclothes with his hands.
But since he’d already done it…
Truth be told, Lin Ting wasn’t one for chores unless there was tempting silver involved.
She’d rather lounge about, especially since most of the mess on that outfit had been his anyway.
Seated at the table waiting for servants to bring food, she planned to combine breakfast and lunch into one meal.
Waking late meant missing meals in dreams, so this was her compensation.
The servants didn’t keep her waiting long.
Within half an hour, they brought in an aromatic spread.
As Lin Ting gazed at the feast before her, she reflected how her recent life had become an endless cycle of eating and sleeping- absolute bliss.
She hoped this luxury would continue.
Though today brought the recurring task she resented:
“Investigate Xia Zimo’s whereabouts every five days.”
Annoyed, she helped herself to two extra bowls of rice.
Across from her, Duan Ling sipped tea with deliberate grace.
Her eyes inadvertently caught on the love bite she’d left on the side of his neck.
While he’d always been careful with his kisses, she’d been less restrained, following pleasure rather than worrying about marks.
Apparently, she’d been too enthusiastic.
Fortunately, it wasn’t too noticeable—just below his collar line, visible only up close.
Others likely wouldn’t spot it.
She averted her gaze.
Duan Ling rotated his empty teacup slowly, seemingly unaware of her glance.
Softly, he began, “This afternoon you—”
Anticipating his question, she interrupted, “I want to go out.”
“Out? I assumed you’d rest after eating.”
His eyes traced the shadows under hers-evidence of last night’s insufficient sleep.
Lin Ting cleaned her bowl.
“I’m not tired. Why rest?”
Then betrayed herself with an uncontrollable yawn, tears springing to her eyes.
Duan Ling raised an eyebrow.
“I’m really not sleepy,” she insisted.
He hummed noncommittally.
“What will you do outside?”
Rubbing her eyes discreetly, she schooled her expression.
“Nothing special. Just wandering. You know I can’t stay cooped up.”
Duan Ling lowered his gaze thoughtfully before smiling.
“Then wander as you please.”
Outside, the streets bustled under a cloudless sky after the rain.
Since news spread of rebel forces advancing toward Ancheng, the city gates had sealed only officials permitted passage, leaving commoners confined within the walls.
Lin Ting walked through the streets, occasionally glancing at Duan Ling beside her.
Duan Ling kept his gaze forward, showing no interest in the goods sold by shops and street vendors lining the road.
Yet, out of habit, he observed everything, committing every person and object to memory as they passed.
Meanwhile, Lin Ting racked her brain, trying to figure out how to inquire about Xia Zimo today.
Xia Zimo had been caught sneaking off to a brothel “to find women” behind Duan Xinning’s back.
Now that they knew, Lin Ting could no longer use Duan Xinning’s name to ask Duan Ling for information about him.
After all, in Duan Ling’s eyes, there was no chance left between Xia Zimo and Duan Xinning.
Once Duan Xinning learned of this, she would never accept Xia Zimo again.
And since that was the case, she wouldn’t ask Lin Ting to investigate him either the Duan family had no tolerance for even the slightest stain on their honor.
Not even the gentle-natured Duan Xinning.
Even though Duan Xinning was far away in the capital and still unaware of Xia Zimo’s visit to the brothel, Lin Ting knew.
She ought to write and inform Duan Xinning of the matter, not dig into Xia Zimo’s affairs.
If she continued probing under Duan Xinning’s name, it would seem suspicious.
More importantly, Lin Ting had no way to explain to either of the Duan siblings that the “woman” Xia Zimo had gone to the brothel for was actually a man-Xie Qinghe, the rebel leader.
Suddenly, Duan Ling’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” Lin Ting said, casually sitting down at a roadside wine stall.
“Boss, two bowls of wine.”
Unlike taverns, these stalls sold only alcohol, no food, making them cheaper, a common haunt for those short on coins but craving a drink.
The owner served them quickly.
Lin Ting downed half the bowl in one gulp.
Duan Ling watched her quietly before speaking again.
“You seem troubled.”
She finished the rest.
“Not at all. What could possibly trouble me?”
Before she could even settle in, the Imperial Guards arrived.
They kept constant tabs on Duan Ling’s movements, ready to seek him out at a moment’s notice.
This time, the guard was so flustered that they forgot to bow, their voice urgent:
“Sir! The rebels are here!”