Chapter 87
Time seemed to stretch out, each second carrying a silent pressure.
Su Zhelan remained in the carefully "positioned" posture, her body stiff and almost numb, even her breathing was extremely light and slow, as if she was afraid that the slightest movement would disrupt this frozen scene.
All his senses were still on edge, focused on the person painting behind him, waiting for that scrutinizing gaze.
Just as Su Zhelan was about to tremble slightly, Xiao Qiyun's voice finally came from behind the desk, carrying a hint of relief and... barely perceptible satisfaction:
"alright."
These two words were like unlocking an invisible shackle.
Su Zhelan's tense nerves suddenly relaxed, and the stiffness that had been forcibly suppressed in her body surged up instantly.
He almost subconsciously let out a long sigh of relief, his shoulders slumped slightly, and his back, which had been ramrod straight, finally relaxed, revealing a tired curve.
He first moved his neck cautiously and tentatively. The prolonged tilting of his head back had made his neck sore and stiff, and his bones even made a slight "clicking" sound. He tilted his head slightly and gently massaged the back of his neck, trying to relieve the discomfort.
Then, he moved his stiff arms. His wrists were a little numb from maintaining the same position for so long, and his fingers were slightly curled, carrying a sense of powerlessness after being out of control.
He gently shook his wrist and tried to stretch his fingers, feeling the slight tingling and itching as the blood flowed back to his extremities.
The moonlight still shone coldly on him, but the suffocating feeling of being nailed to the picture frame slowly dissipated as his body loosened.
He turned slightly to the side, with a hint of relief as if he had just escaped a disaster, and looked at Xiao Qiyun behind the desk.
Xiao Qiyun stood before his desk, his eyes lowered as he gazed at the painting he had just completed. The flickering candlelight illuminated his focused profile, his tranquility unchanged from when he was painting.
He held the pen in one hand and gently brushed the edge of the drawing paper with the other, his movements as tender as if he were caressing a rare treasure.
He seemed to notice Su Zhelan's gaze and slowly raised his head.
Their eyes met.
Xiao Qiyun's lips curved into a faint yet gentle smile, a smile as warm as the first melting snow of spring, as if the domineering person who had just imprisoned him with his gaze and words had never existed.
"You've worked hard." Xiao Qiyun's voice was deep and pleasant, carrying a hint of barely perceptible comfort. "Maintaining this position must be tiring, right?"
Looking at his gentle smile and listening to his considerate words, Su Zhelan felt a slight reduction in the powerlessness and embarrassment she felt from being controlled, replaced by a complex emotion tinged with confusion.
He shook his head gently, his voice slightly hoarse from stretching his muscles: "...It's alright."
Xiao Qiyun's gaze lingered on his slightly flushed face for a moment, his eyes still gentle, yet seemingly carrying a hint of insightful understanding.
He didn't say anything more, but gently placed the pen on the pen rack, then picked up a wet wipe and slowly wiped away the few ink stains on his fingertips.
His movements were composed and elegant, every detail exuding an innate nobility. After wiping it clean, he walked around the desk and slowly approached Su Zhelan.
The moonlight and candlelight intertwined around him, outlining his tall and slender figure. He walked to the low couch, but did not sit down immediately. Instead, he stood in front of Su Zhelan, his gaze falling on him again with the satisfaction of examining a completed work.
"Come and take a look?" Xiao Qiyun's voice carried an invitation, but his gaze had already turned to the painting on the desk.
Su Zhelan hesitated for a moment, but still stood up as instructed. His legs were a little numb from sitting for so long, and he staggered slightly as he stood up.
Xiao Qiyun did not reach out to help him up, but simply looked at him calmly until Su Zhelan was steady before turning around and walking towards the desk first.
Su Zhelan followed behind him, her steps still a little unsteady. He walked to the desk and looked at the painting that had just been completed.
On the pristine white Xuan paper, the ink was not yet completely dry. Moonlight streamed through the window lattice, falling precisely on the silhouette of the figure in the painting.
In the painting, he tilts his head slightly, the lines of his neck are delicate and graceful, and his eyes seem to carry a sense of emptiness and distance. His moon-white clothes seem to be shrouded in a cool halo under the ink rendering.
The background, depicted with just a few strokes of a window frame and bamboo shadows, further accentuates the figure in the painting, conveying a sense of otherworldly solitude and...a beauty of confinement.
Looking at herself in the painting, Su Zhelan felt an indescribable feeling welling up inside her.
That was indeed him, yet he seemed like a puppet stripped of its soul, leaving only a beautiful shell.
The painter accurately captured his stiffness and absent-mindedness at that moment, and even vividly portrayed the coldness of the moonlight and the subtle vulnerability.
Xiao Qiyun stood beside him, her gaze also fixed on the painting, a gentle smile playing on her lips, as if she were extremely satisfied with the work.
"Do you like it?" Xiao Qiyun's voice rang in my ears, with a hint of inquiry, yet it seemed to confirm the answer.
Su Zhelan looked at the figure in the painting, eternally frozen in the moonlight, and her Adam's apple bobbed slightly.
He couldn't bring himself to say "like" it; the loneliness and fragility in the painting made him feel alienated and a little... embarrassed. But he couldn't deny the painting's exquisite detail and lifelike quality.
"...Your Highness's painting skills are superb," Su Zhelan finally said in a low voice, avoiding direct praise of her preferences.
Xiao Qiyun seemed unconcerned by his avoidance, letting out a soft, melodious laugh. He raised his hand, his fingertips not touching the painting, but merely brushing across the outline of the figure in it, his gaze shifting to the real Su Zhelan beside him.
"Though the person in the painting is beautiful," Xiao Qiyun's voice carried a hint of meaning as his gaze lingered on Su Zhelan's face, from her slightly reddened ears to her lowered eyelashes, "she is ultimately not as vibrant as the person before my eyes."
Su Zhelan's heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason, and his cheeks flushed even more. He lowered his eyelashes, avoiding Xiao Qiyun's overly focused gaze.
Xiao Qiyun said no more, turned and walked to the tea table to the side. With elegant movements, he picked up the purple clay teapot that was warming on the red clay stove and poured it into two white jade cups. The delicate aroma of tea instantly filled the room, diluting the scent of pine ink.
He handed one of the cups of tea to Su Zhelan, his voice still gentle: "Have a cup of tea to warm yourself up."
Su Zhelan looked at the teacup offered to him; its white jade was warm and smooth, and the tea was clear. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take it. His fingertips inevitably brushed against Xiao Qiyun's fingers as he handed him the tea, and the warm touch made him tremble slightly, almost causing him to drop the teacup.
Xiao Qiyun seemed unaware, simply withdrawing his hand, picking up his own cup of tea, gently blowing on the steam, his posture relaxed.
Su Zhelan held the warm teacup, feeling the warmth from her palms, and her stiff body seemed to slowly relax with the warmth.
He sipped the tea slowly, the warm liquid sliding down his throat, bringing a touch of warmth and temporarily dispelling the turmoil in his mind.
However, the feeling of being meticulously crafted as a "birthday gift" and then scrutinized in such a way, along with the subtle possessiveness in Xiao Qiyun's words, stirred up ripples in his heart like a pebble thrown into a lake, which lingered for a long time.
He held a teacup, standing beside the desk, looking at the painting whose ink was still wet. The moonlight was cold, the candlelight was warm, but his heart felt as if it were suspended in mid-air, unable to find a place to land.
Xiao Qiyun leisurely finished his tea, gently placing the white jade cup back on the tea tray with a crisp sound. He looked up at Su Zhelan, who was still holding the teacup and seemed somewhat dazed, his gaze lingering for a moment on Su's slightly lowered eyebrows and somewhat stiff shoulders and neck.
"You must be stiff from sitting for so long?" Xiao Qiyun's voice was as gentle as ever, with a hint of barely perceptible concern.
He walked slowly closer and stopped in front of Su Zhelan.
Su Zhelan subconsciously took a half step back, her fingers gripping the teacup slightly, her voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible tension: "...It's alright, thank you for your concern, Your Highness."
Xiao Qiyun's lips curled into a very faint smile, a smile that remained gentle, but his eyes held an unmistakable determination.
He reached out, but instead of touching the teacup, he gently placed his hand on Su Zhelan's shoulder with an extremely natural and undeniable force.
Su Zhelan's body tensed instantly! The warmth of Xiao Qiyun's palms seeped through the thin fabric, carrying a scorching heat. His hands weren't exerting force, just resting lightly, yet they carried an invisible pressure.
"Don't move." Xiao Qiyun's voice was deep and pleasant, carrying a soothing tone, but it sounded more like a command.
His fingertips applied slight pressure, with an undeniable guiding force, gently massaging Su Zhelan's stiff shoulder and neck muscles. "Here, and here... they're all so tense."
His movements were gentle, yet his finger techniques were exceptionally precise, carrying an irresistible force as he kneaded Su Zhelan's muscles, which ached from maintaining the posture for so long.
Su Zhelan's body trembled violently, almost instinctively trying to pull away. He turned to the side, trying to break free from Xiao Qiyun's grasp, his voice tinged with panic and resistance: "Your Highness! This...this is against the rules...I dare not trouble Your Highness!"
He tried to back away, but Xiao Qiyun gently pressed down on his other shoulder with her other hand. Xiao Qiyun didn't use force to restrain him, but her hands seemed to have a magnetic force, firmly fixing him in place, unable to break free.
Xiao Qiyun leaned slightly closer.
The moonlight and candlelight intertwined, illuminating his handsome face, and his deep eyes clearly reflected Su Zhelan's flustered and resistant expression.
He wasn't angry; instead, a slightly aggrieved smile curved his lips. His expression was completely different from his usual calm and composed demeanor, carrying a rare, almost childlike stubbornness.
“But…” Xiao Qiyun’s voice was very soft, with a hint of… coquettishness? He looked directly into Su Zhelan’s eyes, his gaze clear, with just the right amount of innocence and disappointment, “Today is my birthday.”
His fingertips did not stop massaging; the pressure remained gentle yet precise, yet carried an undeniable persistence.
"Could it be..." Xiao Qiyun's voice lowered, his warm breath almost brushing against Su Zhelan's earlobe, carrying a heart-stopping allure, "You can't even grant me this small request?"
His gaze was fixed on Su Zhelan, and his deep eyes clearly said: Today I am the birthday star, you should listen to me.
Su Zhelan's heart suddenly raced. He looked at Xiao Qiyun's face so close to his, at those eyes that were usually unfathomable but now held a hint of grievance and expectation, and at those deep, melodious words that carried a hint of coquetry... All his resistance and thoughts of "not following the rules" seemed to crumble instantly under the gaze of those eyes and the reminder of "birthday".
He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but found that he couldn't make a sound.
The words of refusal stuck in his throat, impossible to utter. The deep-rooted awe and obedience he felt for the Crown Prince before him, along with the indescribable tenderness stirred by those eyes and words, overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.
Xiao Qiyun seemed to sense his wavering, and the aggrieved smile on his lips deepened slightly, carrying a hint of triumphant cunning. He tightened his grip on Su Zhelan's shoulders slightly, with an undeniable guiding force, and gently pressed Su Zhelan down onto the low couch beside him.
"Sit still." Xiao Qiyun's voice returned to its usual gentle tone, but carried an undeniable air of command. He stood behind Su Zhelan, placing his hands on her shoulders once more.
This time, Su Zhelan did not struggle. He sat stiffly on the low couch, his back straight, his hands unconsciously clenching the hem of his clothes.
He could clearly feel Xiao Qiyun's fingertips landing on his shoulders and neck, warm and with considerable force, precisely pressing on every sore muscle.
Xiao Qiyun's movements were unhurried and his strength was just right. His fingertips had thin calluses, and when he kneaded and pressed, it brought a slight soreness, but strangely relieved the stiffness.
However, this sense of comfort did not relax Su Zhelan; instead, it made him even more nervous.
He could clearly feel Xiao Qiyun's breath brushing against the back of his neck, carrying a warm scent, each press seeming to carry an invisible sense of possession and declaration.
"Relax." Xiao Qiyun's voice sounded above his head, deep and pleasant, with a soothing tone, but more like a command, "Don't be so tense."
Su Zhelan swallowed hard, trying to relax her tense muscles, but found that she couldn't do it at all.
Xiao Qiyun's presence was too strong. Every touch and every breath he took was clearly transmitted to him like a brand, making it impossible for him to ignore.
Xiao Qiyun didn't seem to care about his stiffness. His fingertips slowly slid down Su Zhelan's shoulders and neck, across his tense back, sometimes gentle, sometimes firm, precisely searching for every stiff spot.
His movements carried an undeniable sense of control, as if he were caressing a precious personal item.
"It's... hard here." Xiao Qiyun's voice carried a hint of a sigh, as he pressed and kneaded a stiff muscle below Su Zhelan's shoulder blade.
Su Zhelan groaned, his body involuntarily leaning forward before he managed to steady himself. The aching sensation mixed with an indescribable tingling feeling instantly spread throughout his body, making his scalp tingle.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Xiao Qiyun's voice carried a questioning tone, but his actions did not stop; instead, they went even deeper.
“…No, it’s not.” Su Zhelan’s voice trembled slightly. He lowered his head, his long hair falling down to cover his reddened ears and tightly bitten lower lip.
He dared not turn around, nor did he dare to look at Xiao Qiyun's expression at that moment; he could only passively endure it.
The candlelight flickered, casting the shadows of the two people onto the wall.
Xiao Qiyun's figure completely enveloped Su Zhelan's slender figure, like an invisible cage.
His long, slender fingers traced patterns on Su Zhelan's shoulders and back, each press carrying an undeniable force and a deep-seated possessiveness. The comfort brought by that "massage" was completely overwhelmed by a strong sense of shame and powerlessness from being controlled.
Su Zhelan sat stiffly on the low couch, feeling the irresistible gentleness and strength of the person behind her. Her heart was like a deep pool with a boulder thrown in, churning and unable to calm down for a long time.
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