Chapter Text
Under Night's Veil
(from episode 41)
Jingyan entered in the exact opposite manner to how he had entered last time. Then, he had been imposing, accusatory, absolute. Now, he walked in with hesitant footsteps, and looked chastised as the servant who was opening the passageway door for him gave him a look full of reproach.
He looked no better than last time, however. His face was still hollow, his eyes heavily ringed in purple.
“Lady Su, are you sure you are well enough to—” he said, and then stopped short. He averted his gaze away from her. “I—I can wait a moment outside. If you need,” he said stiffly.
Changsu rose from her bow. “I assure Your Highness I am well enough. I would not have requested this meeting otherwise,” she said.
She left her cloak as it was: haphazardly secured, so that its center opening afforded a clear view to her under-robes. Those robes, too, she had tied low, so that the right and left edges of the fabric overlapped far down her chest and left her pale clavicle wide-exposed.
Mei Changsu waved a dismissing hand at her servants. They bowed as they backed out of the room, and then the doors were closed—and it was just Jingyan and Mei Changsu, alone in her quarters.
“But you have only just recovered.” Jingyan’s eyes flicked towards her. But the moment she caught his eyes, they were gone again, fixed to the folding screen to the side of her.
His reaction makes her feel so tender, despite it all.
“As I said to Your Highness, I am fine,” she said, and in the same moment let herself sway forward just a little, as if feeling faint.
Jingyan was immediately by her side, his right arm a steady presence high across her back.
“Lady Su, are you all right?” Jingyan said.
“I’m fine, Your Highness. Only momentarily light-headed.” She gestured towards her bed. “May I…?”
Jingyan’s steps faltered; but he recovered, and supported her the entire way there, his presence solidifying her shaky steps.
Mei Changsu observed Jingyan as they moved slowly across the room. He was staring at her, anxiety in every line of his face. But the moment that she tried to lean more of her weight on him, he seemed to tense and shift away, even as his hand stayed supportive around her upper body.
When they finally reached her bed, he released her from his arms, and she lowered herself down, a deliberately careful production.
Mei Changsu looked up when she was finally settled—and realized that he was, for the first time, truly not looking at her. Instead, his attention had been caught on their habitual table by the window. Some enterprising servant had placed a tea service. Steam rose from the pot in lazy tendrils and drifted up and out, into a winter sunset of rioting orange.
It had been a long time since they had sat in that corner together.
She said, softly, “Your Highness?”
Jingyan turned back to her, and her heart froze to see his eyes red-rimmed.
“You should be angrier at me.”
Belatedly, she realized that this positioning—her best seduction arrangement—mirrored exactly the way they had been, the last time they had met in her quarters together.
Mei Changsu swallowed.
“I—I have no cause to be angry. As your strategist, to carry out your wishes is my duty and pleasure.”
He pressed his lips thin. His wretched eyes were so bright, and how was it that he had the upper hand again when she had orchestrated this visit? She couldn’t look away from him.
“My mother has only met you twice, yet she knew to defend you from my terrible accusations. I have known you for all this time, and yet still I… I even put you in danger. Had you—”
“It is useless to dwell on a resolved matter.” She averted her eyes. “Wei Zheng is safe; and as I promised, no one came to any harm.”
“No one?” he repeated. “And what about you?”
“The risk level was reasonable. Some temporary harm is more than a fair price to rescue Wei Zhe—”
“It wasn't reasonable!" he bit out, sharp enough that her eyes snapped back onto him.
He looked liked he had when he’d been yelling at her about Consort Jing. Eyes wild, mouth grim, hands clenching open and closed by his side.
Her fingers twitched. She wanted to unfurl those hands and enclose them in her own. Wanted to never touch them and their heat again.
“It is my fault,” he said vehemently. “I shouldn’t have made you believe you were dispensable. I shouldn’t have—”
No. This was not how the conversation was to go. What use was his remorse? What use was her vengeful vindication, or her inevitable forgiveness?
There was only one thing she needed from him: an assurance that he would never act so recklessly again. And to get it, Changsu was willing to bind his hands with his own affection and guilt, coerce him into caring so much about her that he was obliged to listen to her. He was not to go rogue again, was not to ever risk his life again—
He had always responded better to action. Mei Changsu gave up on words, and leaned in. And as his eyes widened, she pressed her mouth to his.
For one moment, his lips were inert under hers.
And then with a sound—of relief? Disbelief?— he surged forward.
Jingyan gripped her at the waist, with all the passion he’s withheld from her all these months. She returned the embrace, and swallowed his sounds with her tongue.
Mei Changsu leaned back, and he chased her—until there was nowhere left to go and they were sprawled all over her furs.
But the sound of her back hitting the wood of the palet broke the spell. He jerked away, inhaling sharply with a mouth that was no longer pressed against her. She made a protesting sound, and grasped at the fabric of his clothing.
“I—Lady Su, we shouldn’t—”
She tried to pull him back to her.
“Your Highness need not be concerned, there is no risk of a child.”
Still he resisted. “That isn't—I don’t want—”
But Jingyan did want, didn't he? He was flushed not with rage, but with arousal. And she had to give him what he wanted, if she was to keep him on this path she had marked for him.
Mei Changsu pushed up, so that he was one long line of heat pressed against her. She stared up at him. His eyes, framed by those confused brows, were so dark. She found she did not have to reach for her next seductive words. They were already there, falling easily from her tongue. "I want you, Your Highness,” she whispered, like a secret.
His breath hitched.
He closed his eyes. Shuddered again. Leaned in.
She let her legs spread around the fulcrum of his hips, let her weight fall onto the bed, let herself welcome him back.
“Jingyan!” Lin Shu greeted brightly as she hopped through his open window and into his bedroom.
Jingyan sighed. He put down his brush, so neatly that the surface of his inkwell barely even rippled.
“You can’t sigh like that when you see your dear fiancée, the gossips will say you’re unhappy to be engaged to me,” she complained as she draped herself over his back, and peeked around his broad shoulders at what was taking him away from her.
Prince Qi was entrusting Jingyan with military reports, she realized with indignation. Actual military report! Of actual military significance!
And her father was still having her summarize training drills, in the most useless, excruciating detail?
She was going to complain to her father tomorrow, no way could Jingyan be allowed to pull ahead of her—
Jingyan sighed again, without even bothering turning around. “It’s only scouting plans to assess the terrain near the Eastern Sea, Xiao Shu, stop pouting. What are you here so late for?”
“Most men would be overjoyed to see their sweetheart in their quarters this time of the night, you know. Generally signifies night plans,” she said, and was rewarded with his ears turning pink.
Heavens, Lin Shu missed him. Jingyan’s assignments were getting ever longer; and though she knew it was a sign of the Crown Prince’s growing trust in his younger brother’s abilities, she wished selfishly that Prince Qi would trust someone else once in awhile.
She let her cloak drop to the floor, circled the chair, and dropped down into his lap, one leg on either side of him. His hands came up at the waist to steady her, automatic.
“Xiao Shu, careful of the ink—” he said, and stopped talking.
She draped her arms over his shoulders, and arched her back—not over-dramatically, just a little coquettishly. Just enough for the swell of her breasts to push against her gauzy under-robes and press deliciously against his chest.
He swallowed. His gaze wandered downwards.
“Like what you see?” she said, as smooth as silk. His guilty eyes snapped back up to her face. She grinned.
The chilly walk over? Absolutely worth it.
Lin Shu slotted herself closer to him, on top of exactly where she needed to be.
“So, while you were gone,” she began, “I had a chat with my, ah, female informants about your little hang-up.”
He scowled, his fingers twitching against the sides of her hips. “It is not a hang-up, it's a decision." He said. “You’ve spoken about going into battle for years. What will you do if you become pregnant, and General Lin forbids you from accompanying him on his upcoming campaign against the Da Yu?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “If I’m willing to risk it, I don’t know why you care. It’s not like I can’t go back to battle after I have the baby”—he opened his mouth—”but yes, yes, we’re young, we’re not married yet, I know, I was there for your lecture. I did say I’ll indulge your honor or whatever.”
She tightened her arms around him. “But I figured there had to be at least a couple other options, it always seemed so dissatisfying—”
Jingyan paled.
“If it’s not been enjoyable, I can—” he began.
“No, no,” she waved vaguely again, “Your tongue is very flexible. I meant for you.”
He opened his mouth. Then closed it again.
“I—” he stuttered. “I’m fine, you needn’t—”
Fine, Jingyan said.
Fine.
Heavens, it was worse than she’d thought.
Fine was for other people. She wasn’t going to keep letting him complete in her hand or against her thigh, and think, “That was fine, that wasn’t bad.”
She wanted him to be gasping for air but still unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to move, reduced to the same state he reduced her to when he—
The point was, Lin Shu didn’t like to lose.
She gracefully slid off his lap and slipped onto her knees.
“What are you doing, Xiao Shu?” Jingyan said in a strangled voice.
In lieu of answering him, she reached for the ties at his waist. It was so thoughtful of him to already be stripped down to his sleeping attire. So many fewer layers that way.
“Xiao Shu! Don’t—are you—that’s not proper —” He reached down to stop her, but her fingers were faster, and whatever other nonsense he wanted to say was lost as her hands closed around her prize.
It'd been too long, she'd forgotten how hot it was. How it filled up the width of her hand so nicely. How firm but soft it felt, almost vulnerable. A little like Jingyan, she supposed.
“Get up, Xiao Shu!” he hissed. “Someone could come in and see you—”
She rolled her eyes. “What are they going to do? Make me marry you sooner?” Lin Shu said as she leaned closer and turned to the task at hand.
She narrowed her eyes. Theoretical knowledge, that she had plenty of. But was that enough to make up for practical experience? Of course she wasn’t nervous, but—
Lin Shu licked her lips, and exhaled on it, like she was told to do. It twitched in her hand, and Jingyan moaned. Curious, she licked the very tip. This time he shuddered.
It was a strange taste, like the courtesans had warned. But for that reaction? Not going to be a problem.
“So,” Lin Shu said, peering up at him through her lashes. She was aware that at this angle, he had a great view straight down her loosely-tied robes—which were also helpfully sliding off her shoulders. “Should I stop? Or will you stop being a Water Buffalo for once and gracefully accept your present?”
He choked out a laugh, and covered his red face with one hand.
“You’re so spoiled,” he said in a muffled voice. But his other hand was already sliding into her hair.
“Whose fault is that?”
She swallowed up whatever outraged response he had.
Mei Changsu woke up before Jingyan did.
The candles had long been extinguished, but the moon still shone high in the sky, making it easy to sketch out Jingyan’s high brow and set mouth as he lay sleeping. He looked as vulnerable in sleep as he always had. She hadn't expected him to.
Mei Changsu remained beside him for a time, memorizing.
Then, she extracted herself gently from the circle of his arms. The night’s chill had settled inside the room, though the braziers still smoldered, and she pulled on her discarded robes and padded towards the corner where a wash basin waited.
She would have been embarrassed that some thoughtful servant had placed it there some time in the night—but her intention couldn't have been a mystery to anyone in her household. After all, she had sent the invitation to Jing Manor, then promptly dispatched Gong Yu off to speak to Yujin and ordered her servants to remain out of her quarters for the evening.
Her body ached; but the symptoms were pleasant, if now unfamiliar. Parched throat, swollen lips, strained inner thighs. They chased away the lingering memory of her time at Xuanjing Bureau, which had not disappeared as silently as the physical scars of it.
The polished bronze mirror above the wash basin showed her the same appearance as always. Only a single red-mark, left just above the swell of her breast, easily covered up by the line of her robes, was new.
Mei Changsu shook her robes a little looser around her shoulders, and stared at her clavicle critically. Such a wide expanse, so pale and smooth.
Jingyan had been as she remembered. Not in every way—but in the ways that mattered. His intent and unabashed focus on her, the moment right before she fell off the peak. His criss-crossing scars, ones she’d never forgotten nestled next to those whose raised texture she did not know. And the taste and scent of him, leather and metal and grass. Jingyan had always carried the summer with him everywhere.
But Mei Changsu—
To restore her into the semblance of a human, Lin Chen had stripped her skin and remade her anew. None of Lin Shu’s “beauty marks” remained. Not the sword slash bisecting her chest, that Jingyan had loved to trace with his tongue. Not the starburst arrow scar on her right shoulder, onto which he had often dropped a kiss. Not even a single one of the many rough-textured nicks that he had glided over with his fingers, easily and familiarly, each time they came together. She wondered if Jingyan found the smoothness of her new skin as alienating as she did.
But perhaps he had gotten used to such unmarked expanses, with his dutiful concubine of many years. Perhaps he had formed new inclinations and habits that she did not know. Perhaps now he even preferred Mei Changsu’s unblemished skin to Lin Shu’s battle-marked body.
“Lady Su,” Jingyan said, and she startled. His face was behind hers in the bronze mirror, hi s eyes fixed on her clavicle.
She dropped down the hand pressing on the red bruise. "Your Highness."
"Does it... hurt?" He asked. When she turned back to him, his ears and neck were red. "I should have been more careful."
She shook her head. "It does not. It feels..." She pressed down, and felt the heat from it radiate outwards. "I did not mind."
His eyes met her mirror reflection. He twined his arms around her waist and pulled her close, so that the crown of her head pressed neatly against the hollow of his collarbone.
"I am glad," he whispered into her hair. “It’s been some time, and I was afraid you might have… You seemed….”
She remembered, in a flash, how she had tensed-- then relaxed, deliberately, muscle by muscle, as he had pushed in. How he had paused, and then moved more slowly, more consideringly. How his hands and mouth had distracted her until the glide was smooth, at which point they worked instead to take her apart, until she tightened down on him, again and again.
Her neck felt hot. She had to look away from him in the mirror.
Heavens, what was wrong with her. She had never been abashed about this. What was there to be abashed about? Dogs did it, horses did it, humans did it.
"It had been some time for me as well, " she said.
His arms tightened around her.
Changsu tilted up to look at him, and his eyes were dark and heated. They lit something in her, flames bright and chaotic.
“I did not mind," she repeated.
Jingyan swallowed.
She pushed up onto her tiptoes to kiss him, until they stumbled back towards the bed together.
In the morning, Changsu promised herself.
There were many hours between now and then, when their shared quiet had to end.