Chapter 29
The white mist curled around her again, thick and clinging like damp silk. Yun-si recognized it instantly—the same dream, the same endless quiet broken only by the faint rustle of her own breath.
And there he was.
Ting-zhi stood a few paces away in front of that bed, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in that infuriating way of his.
He was wearing his white inner robes, but they were so loosely tied that his collar had fallen wide open, revealing his chest and a glimpse of his taut abdomen beneath.
The sight sent an unwanted heat creeping up her neck.
“You,” she accused.
His lips twitched. “Me.”
“This is my dream.”
“Is it?” He tilted his head, studying her with that maddening half-smile. “Last time, you seemed quite convinced it was yours. Yet here I am. Again.”
Yun-si’s fingers curled into fists. “Well, I can’t come into your dreams! It’s not as if I’m a fox vixen or something! I say this is mine.”
The air shimmered and she felt a sudden heaviness on her bottom.
Ting-zhi’s breath hitched. The lazy amusement in his eyes deepened into an intensity that made her step back instinctively. The change was so unexpected it stole the protest from her lips. The mist between them seemed to thicken, pressing in like a second skin.
Then he moved.
One moment, he was standing there. The next, his hands were on her waist, pulling her against him with a force that knocked the air from her lungs.
The heat of him seared through the layers of her robe, his fingers digging into the softness of her hips as he lifted her effortlessly, spinning her until the world blurred and her bottom hit something solid.
She was in his lap.
Yun-si gasped, her hands flying up to brace against his chest. The muscle beneath her palms was firm, his heartbeat a wild, erratic rhythm against her fingertips. “What—?”
He didn’t answer. His arms locked around her, one hand splaying across her back to hold her flush against him, the other tangling in the loose strands of her hair.
“Wait!” She twisted, trying to break free, but his grip only tightened, His breath was hot against her temple, his lips already moving, pressing kisses to the corner of her eye, the shell of her ear, the top of her head.
Then she heard him whisper, very gently, very huskily, “Si-er, will you let me kiss you, please?” But how had she even heard him? His lips had been pressed to her hair, not her ear.
Then his mouth found hers.
And—
And it was better than she’d imagined.
His lips were warm, insistent, moving against hers with a gentleness that made her head spin. The taste of him was warm, like spiced wine in winter, and when his tongue brushed the seam of her lips, she parted them without thinking.
One hand cupped the back of her neck, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, while the other slid down her spine, pressing her closer until there was no space left between them.
Then his fingers found it.
Yun-si jerked back with a gasp. “What was that?!”
Ting-zhi didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from their kiss. “Your tail.”
“My what?”
She twisted in his lap, craning her neck to look—and froze.
There it was. A tail. White as fresh silk, bushy as a calligraphy brush, tipped with the faintest shimmer, like moonlight on water. She reached back, fingers trembling, and—fluff. Actual, ridiculous fluff.
Her hands flew to her head. Two pointed ears, soft as rabbit fur, twitched beneath her touch.
“I’m a fox.”
“Mmm.” His voice was rough, his breath hot against her throat. “More accurately, a fox vixen.”
She whipped back to glare at him. “This is your dream.”
Ting-zhi’s arms were still locked around her, his dark eyes half-lidded, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “If it is, can we stop analyzing and go back to—”
“The fox vixen seducing the scholar,” she finished, shoving at his chest. “From Dreams of the Otherworld. You’re recreating your own book!”
“A dream,” he murmured, nuzzling the sensitive spot where her ear met her neck. His thumb brushed her lower lip, smudging the wetness there. “Just a dream, Si-er.”
Right. A dream.
A spring dream.
Ting-zhi’s warm hands stroked down her tail again, slow and deliberate.
Yun-si’s entire body tensed up.
A shiver tore through her, violent and sweet, her spine arching before she could stop it. Her breath hitched, her lips parting on a sound she didn’t recognize—something between a gasp and a whimper.
His thumb pressed into the soft fur right where it met her skin, circling once, twice—
“Ngh—!”
The noise escaped her before she could bite it back. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his robe. She should push him away. She should. But her body had other thoughts, melting against him, her hips shifting restlessly in his lap.
Just a dream, she told herself. Just a dream, just a dream.
Her tail—her tail—twitched, brushing against his thigh. His breath hitched.
It was just a dream.
She could wake up anytime.
Yun-si exhaled, slow and shaky. And leaned in to Ting-zhi tentatively.
This time, when their lips met, his hands didn’t stay still. One continued to trace languorous paths down her tail, eliciting delirious moans that she didn’t recognize as her own. The other slid down, lower and lower...
She yelped, breaking the kiss. “That’s—!”
“Very sensitive,” he agreed, voice rough. His fingers didn’t move, just rested there, right at the curve where her thigh met her—oh.
She should’ve been furious. She was still angry at him. She should’ve slapped him. Should’ve woken up.
Instead, she arched into his touch, her tail—her ridiculous, traitorous tail—curling around him.
“Just a dream,” she whispered.
His lips curved against her skin. “Mmm. So we can do anything.”
The promise in his voice made her breath catch.
Then his fingers moved.
He traced the sensitive mountains and valleys where her chrysanthemum cave was. And the pleasure that shot through her was so sharp her toes curled and she let out another breathy moan.
Ting-zhi’s breath was ragged against her ear. “Si-er,” he murmured, his voice rough, “you’re dripping.”
She didn’t understand what he meant. Not at first.
But then his palm pressed her gently there, where the heat between her legs had grown thick and aching, and she felt the dampness. Her face burned.
His fingers never left her tail, stroking downwards in slow, maddening drags, each one sending another wave of that impossible pleasure spiraling through her.
Her tail twitched in his grip, the fur standing on end, and when his thumb pressed down again, she made that sound again—higher this time, needier.
“I am yours.” He murmured against her fox ears. “And you are mine.” Each soft kiss he pressed there sent a bolt of lightning down her spine.
Yun-si’s vision blurred. She could feel the way her body had gone pliant against his, her chest rising and falling too fast, her skin too hot. His other hand was still on her, his fingers flexing, almost where she needed them—
“Zhi-zhi—” His name broke from her on a whine, her voice thin and trembling.
His control was slipping—she could hear it in the way his breaths came in rough gasps, could feel it in the way his hips lifted fractionally against hers, as if he couldn’t help himself.
His lips crashed back onto hers, hungry now, his teeth catching her lower lip before his tongue swept in, deep and claiming. She moaned into his mouth, her hands fisting in his robes, and when his fingers finally—finally—slid higher, into the damp heat between her thighs, she shattered.
A broken cry tore from her throat, her back bowing as pleasure ripped through her, sharp and bright as a blade. Her tail lashed in his grip, her ears flat against her skull, and Ting-zhi groaned against her neck, his own body trembling beneath hers.
In the midst of shuddering between realms, a sharp crack split the air.
And everything dissolved abruptly.
TING-ZHI JOLTED AWAKE, his face burning, heart hammering against his ribs. Warm morning light spilled through the open windows. For a moment, he was still searching for Yun-si. Then the dream receded, and he remembered where he was.
The cold water did nothing to douse the heat still crawling under his skin.
Ting-zhi stood in the bathing chamber, staring at the mirror with fevered eyes, fingers digging into the bronze washbasin. His haunted face looked like he’d spent the night drinking strong wine instead of sleeping.
He hadn’t.
He’d spent it tangled in a dream so vivid he could still feel the weight of her on his lap, the way her breath hitched when his lips brushed her ear and the way she moaned when he stroked her tail.
His stomach twisted.
Guilt first. Sharp and ugly. He shouldn’t have dreamed of her like that. Not when she was still furious with him. Not when he’d deceived her, over and over, in letters she’d never meant for him.
And—
His fingers flexed against the basin.
He had touched her there.
He could still feel the wet warmth on his fingers. Her hands in his hair, her body arching into his, the way she’d made that little sound—
Ting-zhi groaned, ducking his head under the water again.
The cold bit at his skin, but the memory burned hotter.
He scrubbed at his face, then at the evidence of the dream clinging to his body, his movements rough. The sheets were already bundled in the corner, soaked in the washbasin. He’d have to burn them. Or bury them. Or—
“Young Master?”
Wen-xin’s voice piped from the doorway, small and confused. “Why are you washing clothes?”
Ting-zhi didn’t turn. Water dripped from his hair, down his neck. “Sometimes a man has to handle his own messes.”
Wen-xin considered this. “Oh. Like when I peed in my sleep when I was younger and Mother insisted I clean up the sheets?”
“Exactly like that.”
Wen-xin mulled over that, then looked at him sympathetically. “You are a little old to be dirtying your sheets. Don’t worry. I won’t tell Master Gu.”
Ting-zhi choked and nearly fell over his own feet.
Wen-xin trotted forward and plopped a covered tray onto the table. “Breakfast from the kitchens,” he announced, as proudly as if he had made it himself. “It’s steamed buns today.” He picked one up, hopped up onto the stool next to the table, and started eating.
Ting-zhi grabbed a towel, dried his hands, and took a bun too. Wen-xin watched his face closely as he ate the first one in two bites, then ventured, “Did you have a bad dream last night?”
The bun stuck in his throat. He coughed and took two quick sips of the tea.
Wen-xin tilted his head. “Can I help?”
“How?”
“I could...” He scrunched his nose. “Pretend to be sick? Third Maiden will visit if you’re worried.”
Ting-zhi almost choked again. “Absolutely not.”
“Or!” Wen-xin’s eyes lit up. “I could tell her you are sick.”
Ting-zhi stared at him. “That’s...” Diabolical. “...actually not a terrible idea.”
Outside, a crow cawed. A bad omen. Fitting.