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Xie Jing returned to the backyard and went straight into the hot spring room on the west side. He didn’t tell Lu Ling whether he should join him or not, but Lu Lingcong probably understood his meaning.
The word “bathing” held a different kind of deeper meaning for them, especially since their first intimate encounter happened in this setting.
After the pregnancy, their physical contact increased, and so did the instances of intimate touching. Both became skillful through practice, finding various ways to satisfy each other, so the number of times they actually went all the way decreased instead.
Lu Lingcong thought, This seemed to be the only behavior between him and Xie Jing that, aside from the child, could be regarded as consistent with a “husband and wife” relationship.
He had not yet worked out a stable or comfortable way of interacting with his own “wife,” yet he was already accusing Xie Jing of the complete absence of marital affection between his father, his legal mother, and his birth mother. He was merely condemning the less serious while committing the same fault himself.
A maid intercepted him in the flower hall and offered him a bowl of hangover soup, saying it had been prepared at the Princess Consort’s instruction.
Lu Lingcong drank it down in two gulps and asked, “Was there anything unusual about him today?”
“In the evening, the maternal uncle and the madam brought the young master over. They had dinner with the Princess Consort and talked for quite a while,” the maid frowned, thinking. “After they left, the Princess Consort remained quietly in his room the entire time, and no one knew what he was doing. When it was time to light the lamps, he suddenly said he would go outside to wait for Your Highness. Sister Yin Chou tried to persuade him, but could not, and had no choice but to let the Princess Consort go. Still, the Princess Consort showed no sign of displeasure; he looked completely normal.”
Lu Lingcong nodded, “All of you go and rest; I’ll stay with him.”
Xie Jing was sitting by the edge of the pool. The thin nightgown hung loosely on him, and the tips of his hair formed a small curve on the floor.
Sitting this way without support was actually a little tiring. He therefore leaned his upper body back slightly, supporting himself with one arm behind him, while the other folded back to cradle his waist.
He could now clearly sense the baby’s presence, but this little one seemed rather inactive, occasionally changing position lazily as if his body had gone numb from sleeping too long in one spot.
However, laziness did not mean dullness; at least, it didn’t prevent him from keenly distinguishing whether the person touching him was his mother, father, or someone else and giving different responses to each—for Xie Jing, it was turning over to indicate “I’m still alive”; for Lu Lingcong, it was stretching arms and legs to mean “What do you want?”; and for everyone else, it was feigning sleep, as in “Keep away from strangers.”
Lu Lingcong walked into the inner room, changed out of his clothes, and draped them over the top of the screen. He changed while facing sideways and did not avoid Xie Jing. Xie Jing did not look away either, simply observing him calmly and openly from across half the room, watching him descend into the water naked, swimming a couple of strokes across the pool to this end, wiping the water from his face, and floating up while looking up to meet his gaze.
From this angle, there was actually nothing indecent to look at. Xie Jing’s nightgown was loosely tied with two knots at his ribs; his shoulders were exposed while his chest was concealed. His stomach could have been shielded, but because he was sitting with his legs crossed, the hem of the gown slid to both sides, subtly revealing a bit of the curve of his pale abdomen.
“Are you coming in?” Lu Lingcong splashed some water toward him.
“Wait,” Xie Jing picked up the ends of his hair. “I washed my hair at noon; I need to pin it up. It’s too much trouble if it gets wet.”
Yin Chou had advised him to avoid washing his hair at night as much as possible, saying that the dampness was heavy, it wouldn’t dry easily, and it was bad for his health.
Lu Lingcong’s hair was nowhere near as long as his, so he didn’t have these worries. He held out his hand to help him, “Come down, I’ll pin it up for you.”
Xie Jing moved forward a bit and leaned his body forward to grasp Lu Lingcong’s shoulder, allowed him to slowly cradle him into the water.
The moment the nightgown became soaked, it clung tightly to his body, revealing every curve. The dark color on his chest was also faintly visible.
Lu Lingcong glanced at him without comment, simply taking over to gather his long hair. With practiced ease, he split the hair into two sections, twisted each a few times, crossed them over, and coiled them neatly atop the head. He then took Xie Jing’s own wooden hairpin and inserted it diagonally, securing the coiled bun in place.
Finally, he turned Xie Jing’s head to admire the result and said quite contentedly, “It looks even better than when you wear your hair tied up and capped. Don’t let it come undone later.”
Xie Jing tilted his head to look at his reflection in the water’s surface only to see a blurry image.
He knew what Lu Lingcong meant by “later,” but he pretended not to understand, instead answering with a question, “Where did you learn that? Zhenzhen doesn’t need a woman hairstyle like this at her age.”
“Mingluan Hall,” Lu Lingcong said while smoothing the wisps of hair that had fallen around Xie Jing’s temples with his fingers. “The Imperial Consorts in the palace often wear this style. The movement of the wrist when handling short weapons and when arranging hair is in fact related; the latter is even more supple and precise. The most skilled hairdresser among the maids, if she were to learn the use of daggers or short blades, would be no less formidable than a seasoned assassin.”
“En,” Xie Jing responded with a nasal sound and said lazily, “So you’re treating me like those ladies.”
Lu Lingcong was undaunted. Instead, he casually scooped up a petal soaking in the water; it was small, crimson, and delicate, about the size of a fingertip, stuck it to Xie Jing’s brow, and laughed, “The flower decoration is now complete too.”
Xie Jing frowned and raised his hand to wipe it away, but because his hands were wet, he couldn’t do it right away. Instead, he only managed to rub his nose until it was wet and shiny. His naturally dark, richly colored lips and his cheeks flushed red from the steam, complemented one another, creating a strikingly beautiful appearance.
“Stop messing around; let’s wash.” Lu Lingcong finished laughing, took the petal off, and went to untie the sash at Xie Jing’s side.
Xie Jing just stared blankly, letting him untie it. With his chest completely exposed, his face felt a little hot. He stripped off the robe, turned his back, and simply cupped water to apply to his neck.
Lu Lingcong also reached for a cloth by the edge of the pool, wrung it out, and wiped his back for him. But his other hand did not remain idle either; it slid around his upper arm to hold him close, repeatedly brushing over his collarbone, the hollow of his shoulder, and the upper part of his chest.
This was tacitly allowed by Xie Jing. Due to the fear of slipping or other accidents, it had been customary for Lu Lingcong to bathe with him for the past month or two. However, it felt strange for the two of them to each occupy a side of the hot spring and wash themselves independently. Therefore, Lu Lingcong would first attend to him and help him wash, conveniently sparing him the physical inconvenience and avoiding movements such as bending over, twisting, or turning his head.
But it would be even stranger if they only washed. They were intimate in bed more often than in the water, and though neither of them said it aloud, they both understood that it was difficult to maintain proper restraint and simply bathe without letting improper thoughts arise.
According to the experience Xie Jing summarized from multiple practices, Lu Lingcong seemed quite fond of touching him. Initially, he allowed his belly to be touched, which had a dignified explanation. However, his waist was already slim, the fetus sat far back, and his abdomen was not very prominent. Lu Ling’s palm could cover most of it in a single hold, and after being touched for too long, the little one inside would also grow irritable and stop responding. Thus, the touching inevitably had to extend to other places instead.
…
