AYM Chapter 52

Warning: Dub-con(?) at the end.

Yan Yihuan was overjoyed. Even though he was still under someone’s control, his attention had already been completely captured by what was before him. He hurriedly reached out to take it, clutching it like a precious treasure.

 

He had indeed been reckless last night, but seeing how Yan Yihuan had already let go of the matter, Li Xuanming finally released him.

 

“Copy this over neatly and submit it to Hanlin Academy tomorrow, that’ll count as your submission.”

 

Yan Yihuan was momentarily dazed. He never would have imagined that the ruler of all under heaven would spend half a day helping him fool Song Weiqian. He couldn’t quite describe the feeling in his heart, but joy easily outweighed everything else.

 

Li Xuanming hadn’t seen Yan Yihuan like this in a long time. His whole being seemed to glow with light, radiant and bright, his eyes fixed intently on him. Li Xuanming froze for a moment, recalling that the last time he had seen that same look in Yan Yihuan’s eyes was back when he(YYH) had been relentlessly pursuing him(LXM) at the Residence of King Yan.

 

Back then, although Li Xuanming had been somewhat moved, he hadn’t wanted to get involved because of Yan Yihuan’s status. So he had kept a cold face, even deliberately showing disdain. Yet every time his gaze happened to fall on Yan Yihuan, the latter would show that same startled, delighted expression, his eyes clinging to him with yearning.

 

Li Xuanming had always known full well that Yan Yihuan’s interest stemmed from desire. Yet those peach-blossom eyes of his were born to brim with tenderness, and every time their gazes met, Li Xuanming could only force himself to look away, unwilling to stir up trouble within the Residence of King Yan.

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty, I…”

 

Yan Yihuan’s stammered gratitude broke Li Xuanming’s thoughts. He turned him to face him properly and looked at him closely, searching his face and eyes for something more than gratitude.

 

Under that steady gaze, Yan Yihuan felt an inexplicable panic ripple through him. Ever since “Zhao Chufeng” suddenly became the emperor, he hadn’t dared meet those eyes so directly in a long time. Reason told him to look away, yet he just stood there staring, reluctant to break the moment.

 

They were too beautiful. Why did such a pair of eyes have to belong to the emperor? Why couldn’t they be Zhao Chufeng’s, or a seventh-rank official from the Censorate, or anyone else, just not the emperor.

 

He couldn’t tell what the emperor was thinking, but after sharing such intimacy with him, the thought of his father and brothers standing in opposition to the throne made his chest tighten with a sudden, inexplicable ache. He pressed a hand over his heart, trying to still the sudden rush of emotion.

 

“Yan Yihuan.”

 

“…Huh?”

 

“What are you thinking about right now?”

 

“Thinking?” Yan Yihuan froze in shock. Surely the emperor shouldn’t be able to see straight through his thoughts like that, right? How could he tell him about his family? What was he supposed to say?

 

Yan Yihuan lowered his eyes, trying to hide the flicker in his gaze. His right hand lifted almost involuntarily, hesitating before coming to rest against Li Xuanming’s chest.

 

The moment his fingers brushed against him, Li Xuanming’s eyes darkened. He knew this gesture spoke of retreat and resistance. If it had been anyone else, he might have wondered whether it was feigned reluctance, a coy game of refusal, but Yan Yihuan wasn’t like that. His thoughts were always laid bare, so honest it left Li Xuanming helpless.

 

“I’m grateful to Your Majesty, but I have no way to repay you except… except…”

 

Except what? Yan Yihuan searched his mind and found nothing he could offer, except…

 

He glanced at the historical record still clutched in his hand. Thinking about it, there was no point pretending anymore. It had happened more than once already, and although it was exhausting, it wasn’t without its pleasures afterward. All in all, he had rather enjoyed himself, so it couldn’t really be called a loss.

 

Thinking like that, he simply pushed himself up and leaned forward, recalling what it had felt like to be kissed. Closing his eyes, he softly pressed his lips against his.

 

It was gentle, as light as a feather brushing past, but in that brief moment of contact, it was as if a sword had pierced straight through Li Xuanming’s heart. His hands, which had been resting lightly at Yan Yihuan’s waist, tightened uncontrollably.

 

The sides of his waist still ached from the marks left last night. Feeling that sudden pressure, Yan Yihuan frowned but didn’t pull away. Instead, he tried to imitate how Li Xuanming usually kissed him, awkwardly deepening the touch.

 

He was doing a surprisingly good job.

 

Once the first shock faded, Li Xuanming understood that this sudden show of initiative was only out of gratitude. The realization cooled his heart, and he released the narrow waist caught in his palms, resting his hands instead on the arms of the dragon throne.

 

Yan Yihuan faltered, a little lost. He lifted a hand to wipe the corner of his mouth, puzzled as to why, when he had already taken the initiative, the emperor still didn’t respond. Shifting uneasily, he caught the subtle change beneath him and immediately knew what it meant.

 

He tightened his arms around him and pressed his cheek to Li Xuanming’s chest, listening to that quickened heartbeat with secret satisfaction. A faint itch spread along his back, like a cat waiting for its master’s hand to stroke its fur.

 

But still, there was nothing.

 

Yan Yihuan froze for a moment. When the touch he’d been waiting for never came, a strange, restless emptiness welled up inside him. He lifted his head again, ready to repeat the same trick and kiss him once more, but a finger pressed lightly against his lips, halting him mid-motion.

 

“After all this time I’ve taught you, is that the only thing you’ve learned?”

 

What else was he supposed to do?

 

Yan Yihuan swallowed nervously, speaking in his heart, “The things you did to me, how could I possibly dare to do them back?”

 

“Then what should I do?”

 

Li Xuanming’s gaze flickered, the faint curve of his eyes carrying an unreadable amusement that still managed to draw Yan Yihuan in. The fingertip resting against his lips slowly traced downwards, gliding past the curve of his chin, following the line of his throat.

 

“This,” he said softly, “can be used to kiss other places too.”

 

“Where…?”

 

A quarter of an hour later, Yan Yihuan regretted everything. He never should have let that faint smile cloud his mind, he never should have been swayed by that low, coaxing voice. By the time he realized what was happening, his cheeks were already flushed, and there was nowhere left to retreat. 

 

He didn’t know if it was the ache in his jaw or the lack of air that stung more, but tears began slipping down before he even realized it. One after another, they slid from his reddened eyes, catching briefly on his lashes before trembling loose and falling.

 

His brows knit tighter with each muffled sound he made, and his parted lips trembled helplessly, pitifully soft. Watching him like this, Li Xuanming’s own brow furrowed in unison, a low sound rumbling in his throat.

 

Yan Yihuan’s eyes flew open. Panic seized him, and before he could think, he pulled away, scrambling under the desk as coughs wracked his chest.

 

It took Yan Yihuan a long while to catch his breath. When he finally did, his tearful eyes widened in protest, “I’m not doing this anymore!”

 

Li Xuanming’s brow twitched. He let out a long breath that had been held in his chest and glanced down at himself, then back at Yan Yihuan,

 

“So this is what you meant by ‘having no way to repay me’?”

 

Yan Yihuan was at a loss for words. After a long pause, he gritted his teeth, crawled back out from under the desk, and sat down again. One hand braced against Li Xuanming’s shoulder for balance, the other hesitated for a moment before reaching toward the delicate button at his collar.