"Then I shall wait for your move."
The moment those words fell, Chi Jiu realized—belatedly—that she had truly pushed the situation to a point of no return.
She stood frozen before him. They were so close that if she leaned forward another half-inch, their noses would touch. In the space where their breaths mingled, the air grew thick, humid, and sticky, clinging to her skin. Her hand, which was still gripping Xiao Zhan's wrist, felt scalding hot, as if her palm no longer belonged to her.
Yet she didn't let go. She had said she would "change her tactics," and as a daughter of the Chu family and a modern special agent, she could never retreat before the enemy lines—even if her heart was racing so hard it felt ready to burst through her ribs.
She stared unflinchingly into his eyes, trying to detect even a single crack beneath that face as calm as still water. But his eyes were too deep, like a bottomless pool—placid on the surface, but harboring a vortex strong enough to drown anyone within. Instead, it was she who felt her defenses crumbling under his profound gaze.
"What are you looking at?" Xiao Zhan spoke suddenly, his voice low and raspy, carrying a trace of an undetectable smile.
Chi Jiu's breath hitched. As if provoked into a final burst of stubborn defiance by that faint smile, she took a sudden step forward. The distance between them shrank to the absolute limit. She could clearly see the shadow cast by his long lashes and the slight movement of his Adam's apple.
In that instant, a sudden realization hit her—
She wasn't the only one in chaos; he was too.
This realization brought a sudden, fleeting sense of stability to a turbulent corner of her heart.
She raised her hand. This time, she didn't grab or push. She simply placed her palm gently against Xiao Zhan's chest. Through the thin layer of his inner robe, she could clearly feel the heat radiating from his body and the steady, heavy thumping of his heart.
"I was thinking—" She looked up slightly, her voice dropping to a bare whisper. "How long can Your Highness maintain this composure?"
The moment the words left her mouth, the calm in Xiao Zhan's eyes finally cracked.
The emotion he had kept fiercely suppressed in his depths was instantly ignited by her words, bursting into a faint but scorching flame in his pupils. He didn't retreat; instead, he took an active step forward.
Chi Jiu's breath shattered, her spine instinctively stiffening. The hand she had placed against his chest was instantly caught by his counter-grip. He didn't let her escape, nor did he allow her to press any further; instead, he pulled her entirely into his own rhythm.
"Ning'er," he called her name, his voice so deep it almost brushed against the corner of her lips.
Chi Jiu froze completely. She finally realized she had played with fire and burned herself. But it was too late.
Xiao Zhan lowered his head slowly, compressing the remaining distance inch by inch until their noses lightly touched and their breaths intertwined. The scorching air brushed against her lips, sending a numbing shiver through her. At that moment, her rationality snapped completely.
"This move—" His voice hovered right against her lips, so low it was barely audible. "—is highly dangerous."
Chi Jiu's heart exploded. She parted her lips, but found herself unable to utter a single word.
Yet, at that exact moment, Xiao Zhan suddenly stopped. They were a hair's breadth away; a fraction of an inch lower and he would have claimed her soft lips. But he chose to freeze right there.
This "almost" distance was far more agonizing to the nerves than an actual kiss. Chi Jiu's eyes grew hazy, her breathing entirely derailed. She could even feel her own ragged breath sweeping across his face. She fully expected him to kiss her in the next second.
"Do you wish to continue?" Xiao Zhan asked softly.
He didn't dominantly take what he wanted; instead, he handed the final choice back to her.
Chi Jiu was stunned. In that moment, she finally understood—it wasn't that he couldn't, but that he had been waiting all along. Waiting for her to be completely willing, waiting for her to stop hiding. This realization threw her mind into a greater state of chaos than his physical proximity ever could.
Her throat felt dry and tight. The grip she held on his lapel slowly loosened, finger by finger. It wasn't a retreat; it was a silent, absolute surrender.
She didn't answer. She merely stood there, letting their breaths entwine in the shifting shadows of the red candles.
Finally, Xiao Zhan gently released her hand. His movement was incredibly slow, as if wanting her to remember the warmth of his touch as it left.
"That is enough for tonight," he said softly. His tone returned to its usual steady composure, though it carried an irrepressible hoarseness. "If we go on... I fear I will lose my restraint as well. Ning'er, go wash up."
He turned and walked toward the window, leaving Chi Jiu with a back that looked exceptionally tense.
Chi Jiu stood rooted to the spot, watching the flickering red candles. She knew that in this "battle," neither of them had won. Because at this very moment, both of them had already lost to this sudden, most tender surrender.
Behind the screen, the sound of splashing water rose intermittently.
Steam drifted up within the confined space, blanketing the area in a hazy white mist. Chi Jiu stood before the bath barrel, her fingertips still trembling slightly. The lingering sensation felt as though it had been seared by fire, refusing to dissipate.
She looked down at her hand—the place that had just touched his chest. It felt as though it still carried the aftershocks of his heartbeat. She abruptly plunged her hand into the water. The water was hot, yet it couldn't suppress the scalding heat spreading from the depths of her heart.
"Calm down..." she told herself over and over.
Yet, everything that flashed through her mind was that exact moment: the distance where he had stopped, the fire in his eyes, and that low warning whispered right against her lips—"highly dangerous."
Chi Jiu snapped her eyes open. The water's surface rippled slightly, reflecting her flushed face. She gritted her teeth and washed herself slowly, attempting to use the routine to escape the suffocating ambiguity.
Outside the screen, Xiao Zhan listened to the intermittent sound of water. Each splash struck precisely against the tight line of his sanity.
He stood by the window, letting the chilly night wind scrape against his cheeks like cold blades. This gust was enough to make ordinary people tuck in their necks, yet it couldn't drive away the burning heat coiled in his chest. His palm gripped the window frame tightly, his knuckles turning white from the sheer force.
"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, his voice so raspy it sounded foreign even to him.
He knew that if he stayed in the room any longer, his strained line of defense would collapse at any moment. He wanted her, certainly, but he treasured her willingness even more.
Xiao Zhan took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing the roaring primal instincts within him. He turned abruptly, his stride so hurried it bordered on clumsy, and flung the door open to march out.
Seeing the Prince emerge with such an aggressive aura, the young servant keeping watch on the corridor held his breath in terror. Without looking back, Xiao Zhan ordered coldly, "Prepare hot water and send it to the study. I wish to bathe. Move quickly."
"Y-Yes, sir!" The servant didn't dare delay and scrambled to fulfill the command.
Xiao Zhan walked toward the study, his steps heavy and steady, but his silhouette exuded a sense of isolated tension. He needed a colder environment, a vaster space, to extinguish the wild prairie fire sparked by "Ning'er"—a fire that had nearly burned him to ashes.
By the time Chi Jiu dried her hair and stepped out from behind the screen with some unease, the room had fallen into complete silence.
The red candles were still flickering, but the dark-robed figure was gone. The room, which had just been filled with his overwhelming presence, now held only the faint sound of the wind and her own gradually stabilizing breath.
She stood frozen in place, staring at the empty bed. A strange, unnameable emotion welled up in her heart. Was it relief? Or... was there a hint of melancholy that she herself was unwilling to admit?
She walked to the window, feeling the remnants of the chill.
It turned out that in this "battle," she wasn't the only one who had fled the field.
Inside the cold, quiet study, the lamplight burned dim and yellow.
Xiao Zhan shed his outer robe and stepped into the bath barrel. As the steam swirled around him, the warm water enveloped his body, yet it was far from enough to soothe the churning heat inside.
He closed his eyes.
In the distance, the rhythmic dripping of the water clock [1] echoed through the night, marking each passing second and driving the night into deeper darkness.
The water's surface rippled slightly.
His shoulders and back were taut, his breathing pressed exceptionally low, as if locked in a fierce struggle against something.
A moment later—
He let out a soft breath.
It was as if he were shedding a layer of emotion he shouldn't have displayed.
Yet, a very faint smile graced the corner of his lips—carrying a touch of helplessness, and a touch of restraint.
"...This battle is indeed hard to fight."
[1] Water Clock (更漏 - Gēng Lòu): An ancient timekeeping device used in China that measured time by the regulated flow of liquid. Since the night was divided into five watches (更), it became a poetic metaphor in literature for the deepening of the night or the agonizingly slow passage of time during restless hours.