Chapter 64

“Did you… make this?” Although it was merely a guess, an uncontrollable smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Internally, he cursed himself, “Shangguan Ye, you’re too pathetic.”

Murong Qiufeng nodded. “But I can only manage simple dishes, enough to fill the stomach. You’ll have to make do.” He set down a dish of stir-fried radish with shredded meat, replacing the scrolls on the desk.

Shangguan Ye didn’t say another word. He put down his brush, picked up a pair of chopsticks, and began to eat. He hadn’t felt hungry before, but now he realized he was ravenous. Whether it was because of genuine hunger or a shift in mindset, the plain porridge and simple vegetables tasted better than anything he’d had before.

Seeing Shangguan Ye eating, Murong Qiufeng let out a quiet sigh of relief. He had been worried that the food might be thrown out as soon as he served it.

Resigned, Murong Qiufeng began tidying up the messy pile of scrolls on the desk. Suddenly, an empty bowl appeared before him.

Startled, he looked up to see Shangguan Ye’s piercing gaze fixed on him as he uttered a single word: “More.”

Murong Qiufeng glanced at the small clay pot just an arm’s length away from Shangguan Ye and felt a twitch at his brow. Nevertheless, he set down the scrolls, took the bowl, and ladled out another serving. Fine, he thought. I did make him angry, after all.

Three bowls of porridge and the accompanying dish were polished off, leaving the pot empty. Shangguan Ye set down his chopsticks with a satisfied smile. “Not bad. Do you cook for yourself often?”

His mood had evidently improved, like a cloudy day that had turned bright and sunny. His whole demeanor seemed lighter and more at ease.

Murong Qiufeng, busy cleaning up the dishes, answered absentmindedly, “Not really. Sometimes when my senior brother returns, I’ll cook for him.”

With just that one sentence, Shangguan Ye’s expression darkened again, the sunny day turning into a thunderstorm.

Murong Qiufeng looked up, about to speak, but stopped when he saw Shangguan Ye’s stormy face. The prince glared at him, teeth clenched, radiating irritation. Why is he angry again? Murong Qiufeng wondered. Then he recalled his earlier words. His mood changes so erratically lately.

He sighed inwardly, feeling at a loss. Why do we seem like rivals every time we meet? And judging from my senior brother’s tone earlier, he seems to harbor hostility toward Shangguan Ye as well.

With a helpless sigh, he changed the topic. “Is there much left to do? Can I help with anything?”

Shangguan Ye huffed coldly, initially inclined to refuse, but then changed his mind. Pointing to a stack of approved scrolls, he said, “Check these for errors.”

Relieved, Murong Qiufeng reached for the tray, but before he could take it, Shangguan Ye’s hand pressed down on his. The warmth of Shangguan Ye’s palm spread through Murong Qiufeng’s hand, making it feel oddly hot. Startled, he pulled his hand back as if scalded, almost dropping the tray.

Luckily, Shangguan Ye caught it in time.

Embarrassed, Murong Qiufeng silently berated himself for overreacting.

Shangguan Ye, on the other hand, remained composed. “Look at you. Your hands are freezing. Don’t forget you need them to play the qin. Let the servants handle this.” Then he called out, “Someone, come in!”

The door opened instantly, and Youxiang stepped in with bright, eager eyes, as though she had been waiting just outside the entire time. “Your Highness, what are your orders?”

“Clear these away. Prepare some tea and bring in a hand warmer.”

“Yes, sir.”

Youxiang happily tidied up and left the room.

Murong Qiufeng glanced around, noting there were no extra chairs or tables. Did that mean he had to stand?

Before he could speak, Shangguan Ye shifted and gestured beside him. “Sit here and hurry. Otherwise, you might as well forget about sleeping tonight.”

Murong Qiufeng looked at the long cushioned bench Shangguan Ye occupied. It was spacious enough for two and clearly designed for work and rest. Reluctantly, he sat down, though he felt uneasy about it.

Shangguan Ye, now focused on his work, resumed reviewing the remaining scrolls.

Murong Qiufeng composed himself and began inspecting the approved documents. Gradually, he became engrossed in the process.

Shangguan Ye’s comments were as sharp and concise as his speech, direct and on point. Each note not only identified the issues but also suggested practical solutions. Occasionally, his remarks contained scathing critiques, which made Murong Qiufeng chuckle as he imagined Shangguan Ye delivering those biting words in person.

Without realizing it, he turned to look at Shangguan Ye.

The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow on Shangguan Ye’s face, softening his usual cold demeanor. For the first time, Murong Qiufeng studied him seriously.

Shangguan Ye’s complexion was slightly tanned, with deep-set eyes that gave his gaze an intense depth. His prominent nose added to his sharp features, and his thin lips—slightly chapped from the cold—lent him a stern air when pressed together. Yet, when they curved upward in a rare smile, they carried an inexplicable charm.

Paired with his deep, magnetic voice, he was both attractive and commanding. Murong Qiufeng found himself picturing Shangguan Ye in his entirety, recalling the way his smile could light up his face, making him appear confident and vibrant. Lost in thought, he didn’t notice how long he had been staring.

“What is it?” Shangguan Ye asked. He had sensed the weight of Murong Qiufeng’s gaze but let it linger, savoring the attention. Yet, as the silence stretched on, curiosity got the better of him.

Murong Qiufeng snapped out of his reverie, his face flushing crimson. The redness spread from his cheeks to his neck, disappearing under his collar, a sight that made Shangguan Ye’s heart race. He fought the urge to pounce, his body betraying him with an immediate reaction.

“Uh, nothing. How much is left?” Murong Qiufeng stammered, quickly averting his gaze.

“Not much,” Shangguan Ye replied, struggling to steady his breathing. “You can go rest if you’re tired.”

On any other occasion, Murong Qiufeng would have stayed to help. But now, mortified, he quickly agreed. “All right, but don’t stay up too late.” He left in a hurry, berating himself for being so captivated by another man.

As the door opened and cold air rushed in, Shangguan Ye felt his heated body cool slightly. He glanced down at his persistent reaction and sighed, resting his forehead in his palm. This is going to be the death of me.

Just as he was about to deal with the situation, a sharp movement caught his attention. He tilted his head, and a gust of wind brushed past his cheek. A leaf embedded itself in the chair’s wood, its surface etched with characters by internal force.

Narrowing his eyes, Shangguan Ye pressed his palm lightly on the chair, causing the leaf to dislodge intact.

He picked it up.

“Shall we talk? —Yun”

Shangguan Ye’s gaze turned icy as he looked toward the window. With a flick of his hand, the leaf disintegrated into nothingness. The room fell silent, the candlelight extinguished in an instant.

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