HMHSE - 50

The wind outside the pass was cold, but only their lips were warm.

Shan Zong’s actions had always been inscrutable, and even now, he kissed her without warning.

Shen Rong was still indignant, deliberately not wanting him to succeed. Unable to move, she pressed her hands against his chest, her lips sealed even tighter.

He lowered his head before her, almost entirely enveloped with her in his cloak. He turned his face, and once again, his tongue forcefully pushed in.

For a moment, Shen Rong even traced the thin shape of his lips with her own tongue.

Immediately after, his tongue intertwined with hers. She couldn’t help but tilt her head back, her neck elongated, stiffening silently.

After a long while, the bells on her waist jingled softly, caused by Shan Zong’s hand brushing against them.

He finally slowly retreated, his thin lips gradually moving away, his nose separating from hers.

Shen Rong maintained her upturned face, looking at him, breathing in and out, her chest rising and falling violently.

Her lips were numb, her tongue was numb, as if numb to its very root.

“Had enough kissing?” she asked, panting slightly, with a hint of provocation.

Shan Zong was also breathing heavily, her soft body pressed against his chest.

A strand of hair near her temple was disheveled. Her eyes were no longer red, filled with moonlight, like glistening water, sharp yet captivating.

He kept staring at her, noticing her hint of displeasure. He raised his hand, his thumb tracing his lower lip, which she had just bitten. With a smile curving his lips, he said, “Even if not, it’s time to go.”

His voice was deep and mischievous. Before he finished speaking, he pulled her to continue forward.

Shen Rong was still somewhat reluctant as she was pulled along. She struggled but couldn’t break free, only able to follow, holding her cloak with one hand.

Not far away, another carriage appeared in the moonlight-bathed wilderness.

The driver was still a barbarian, clearly having been waiting.

Shen Rong was pulled over. Her waist tightened as Shan Zong, without explanation, lifted her into the carriage.

He then lowered his head and entered the carriage, which immediately sped away as before.

“It’s a good thing I arranged for a change of carriage early, otherwise the extra one just now would have been troublesome,” he said in a low voice in the dark carriage.

Shen Rong ignored him.

Shan Zong still kept one arm around her waist, holding her tightly, as if afraid she would run away.

This time, it was quick. After about the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, the carriage stopped.

Dim light filtered into the carriage through the curtains.

Shan Zong embraced Shen Rong as they dismounted.

Before them was an inn for travelers, its main gate ajar.

Shen Rong stood by the carriage, looking left and right. The carriage was parked on a narrow, brick-paved street. They seemed to have arrived in a town. This street was short, and only this inn before them was lit.

Shan Zong’s arm around her waist hadn’t loosened. He directly embraced her and walked into the inn’s main gate.

The inn, having likely heard the commotion, immediately sent out a bearded barbarian, who seemed to be the counter attendant. He bowed and scraped to Shan Zong, speaking fluent Han Chinese: “Esteemed guest has returned. Please come in quickly.”

“Mm,” Shan Zong tightened his embrace on Shen Rong. As he walked inside, he asked, “Where are my attendants?”

“They are all waiting inside for the esteemed guest to return.”

As he spoke, they entered the inn’s main hall. The counter attendant closed the door and gestured with a raised hand: “Everything is prepared. Esteemed guest can rest at any time.”

Shan Zong said, “Find a maid to attend to her.”

The attendant assented, ambiguously glanced at Shen Rong in his embrace, bowed, and retreated.

In the hall, a single lamp glowed dimly. Around several square wooden tables sat a group of figures, about a dozen people.

After the counter attendant left, one of them stood up, and the others followed suit.

All of them were dressed in short robes, with cloth turbans wrapped around their foreheads and short daggers tied to their waists or calves. In the lamplight, most had fleshy faces and fierce eyes, appearing to be no ordinary folk.

The first person to stand up even had a black leather patch over his right eye, making him look even more menacing.

He approached, cupped his fist towards Shan Zong, and called out a new title in a tight voice: “Brother Chong, everything’s ready. We’re just waiting for you to bring her back.” He then glanced at Shen Rong beside him.

Shan Zong nodded and whispered, “Once it’s done, leave as soon as possible.”

“Yes, we all know,” the man stepped back two paces, making way for him.

Shan Zong continued deeper into the inn with Shen Rong in his embrace. As she walked, she looked back at the group of people again.

They were all facing Shan Zong, still watching him depart, appearing both respectful and fearful of him.

Inside were guest rooms, divided into several grades according to the signs hanging on the doors.

Shan Zong embraced Shen Rong and walked to the door of an upper room. He pushed it open and led her inside.

The room was lit by a lamp. On the table was a steaming plate of barbarian flatbread, accompanied by several small barbarian snacks. A copper kettle with a wide belly and narrow spout held hot water, steam still rising from its spout.

Indeed, everything was prepared as the counter attendant had said.

Shan Zong closed the door, then finally released his embrace on Shen Rong.

She scanned the room, then her gaze swept over him. Only then did she speak: “Are those your attendants?”

Shan Zong almost thought she would ignore him indefinitely. He stared at her and retorted, “Do you know who they are?”

Shen Rong said faintly, “From the underworld. Outlaws.”

They were the same kind of people as the bearded men.

Shan Zong nodded. “Good that you know. Then do you know how many people from the underworld I mobilized to find you?”

Shen Rong paused, then looked at him again.

He stood tall and slender in his dark brocade robe, the golden crown on his hair gleaming. In the lamplight, his figure was as it had been in the past, only his eyes were deep, and he was still the Shan Zong of Youzhou.

“And you still think I look down on you?” The smile on his face flickered and disappeared. His eyes, fixed on hers, were a deep, shadowy void: “You’d better remember, next time when I say a few hours, it means a few hours. Don’t play games with me.”

Shen Rong’s eyes flickered. Only then did she realize he was indeed angry. Her previous emotions had faded. After a pause, she said softly, “I didn’t.”

Shan Zong looked at her for a while, thinking, Forget it. There won’t be a next time anyway, so why bother discussing this further?

Two knocks sounded at the door. A heavily accented Han Chinese voice said: “Here to serve the esteemed guest.”

It was the barbarian maid arranged by the counter attendant.

Shan Zong opened the door to let her in, pointed at Shen Rong, meaning for her to attend to Shen Rong, and then walked out himself.

Outside, a group of figures was moving out from the shadows. Seeing him emerge from the guest room, they all bowed their heads and cupped their fists.

They were still the same outlaws, but in front of him, they were so well-behaved that they didn’t seem like people who operated in the underworld.

Shan Zong stood under the porch and waved his hand, and they continued to walk out.

People from the outlaw community in the mountains and wilds had the quickest and most well-informed intelligence, with connections everywhere.

This group of people helped him by gathering information through the underworld, arranging identities, and organizing carriages and horses, which allowed everything to happen so quickly.

Shan Zong felt the cool breeze under the porch, recalling how he had waited at the border wall until sunset that day but had not seen Shen Rong return. Instead, a soaking wet soldier had returned to report that she was missing. He had probably been truly angered at that time.

She had promised to return in a few hours, and then she was simply gone.

But he still found her.

The constant cool breeze from outside the pass seemed to remind him that he truly had found her.

After another gust of cool wind, the lingering scent of wine and perfume from the pleasure house seemed to dissipate.

From the guest room behind him, the maid exited and left.

Shan Zong heard the movement, looked back, and walked back in.

The room was quiet. Shen Rong was already lying on the barbarian bed, her back turned outwards.

Shan Zong closed the door and stood by the bed. He then realized she had fallen asleep, probably drifting off unconsciously while sitting there. Her body was tilted.

His large cloak had slipped from her, half draped over her waist, and dragging on the edge of the bed.

Her barbarian dress was very revealing. Her pale shoulders were exposed, and a section of her back was also bare. A few strands of her hair were slightly disheveled from rushing too much, falling directly into his sight.

Shan Zong’s gaze lingered on her, not moving away. He remembered the information the outlaws had tracked down.

Her appearance was too striking. They easily found out from a procuress that she had reportedly fallen into the procuress’s hands while trying to evade a group of enemy soldiers from outside the pass.

He suddenly felt that he shouldn’t have spoken like that just now. She truly hadn’t played him.

A delicate lady as proud as her had never deigned to lower herself, let alone do something like using her beauty to serve others. Otherwise, how could her eyes have turned red?

Shan Zong bent down, picked up the cloak that was dragging on the floor, and looked at her. With narrowed eyes, he scanned her from head to toe. Seeing no injuries, his gaze softened.

The bells on her waist tassels were still there. He reached out a hand to untie them, causing her to stir slightly. Something was revealed from the hem of her barbarian dress below her waist.

Shan Zong glanced at her. The skirt hem had many layers. He inserted his fingers and found the object—a brocade pouch. Inside, of course, was her scroll.

Perhaps because she had changed clothes to perform that dance, she had tied the scroll to the thick hem of her skirt below her waist to hide it.

He chuckled, tucking the brocade pouch further in. His fingers brushed against her leg.

The image of those legs gracefully dancing on the circular stage, moving with each step, was still vivid in his mind.

He withdrew his hand, draped the cloak back over her, tugged at the collar of his brocade robe, and then twirled his fingers. His eyes fixed on her peacefully sleeping profile, and he suddenly smiled again.

Actually, she danced well.

He had sat there, watching her dance towards him, and what he saw was her radiant brilliance. It was a different side of Changsun Shen Rong.

Perhaps she didn’t know that at that moment, everyone in the hall had their eyes on her.

It was a good thing he arrived in time.

________________________________________

When dawn broke, Shen Rong opened her eyes.

For a moment, as she opened her eyes, she was in a trance. The canopy above the barbarian bed was full of patterns. She composed herself before remembering where she was.

The experience in that pleasure house was like a dream, but fortunately, the dream ended quickly.

Suddenly feeling someone beside her, she slowly turned her head and was startled. The man beside her had just sat up.

Shan Zong was dressing. He turned and glanced at her. “Awake?”

Shen Rong hadn’t fully come to her senses. Her eyes subtly shifted as she looked at him, then at herself. Her barbarian dress was still on, and one of her legs was still touching his.

Shan Zong’s gaze swept over her face. He had a half-smile on his face. “No need to look. I slept right here.”

Shen Rong, wrapped in the large cloak, slowly sat up. Last night, she had fallen asleep the moment she lay down, feeling nothing at all.

“What are you doing?” she asked, not knowing why she asked that.

Shan Zong’s gaze immediately fixed on her. He leaned closer, his leg pressing more tightly against hers. “Worried I did something to you?”

Shen Rong supported herself on the bed with one hand, glancing at him askance. She saw a slight break in the skin on his lower lip, which she had bitten. Her eyes flickered. “What’s there to worry about? Anyway, no one here knows us. Those who know us know we were husband and wife. Would they still demand that I be pure and unblemished?”

Her voice was low, each word piercing Shan Zong’s ears. He couldn’t help but smile, his gaze sweeping over her fair shoulders, a roguish air about him: “Then wouldn’t I be at a loss?”

Shen Rong’s eyes twitched, understanding the implication in his words.

He truly was a scoundrel.