“Xiao-xiao wants to eat buns.” A last, desperate struggle, through gritted teeth.
A fine brow lifted. Mo Bei spoke with great warmth: “Then drink first.”
Yelü Qianxiao stared motionlessly at the porcelain cup in his palm, his thin lips pressed together. Pitifully, he said, “Mo-mo is bad! You only know how to bully Xiao-xiao!” In this world, the one thing he least wanted to touch was wine—the culprit that had made him lose everything.
Seeing that he truly disliked it, Mo Bei put away her wicked smile, picked up a xiaolongbao, and held it to his lips. “Your Highness, if you obediently drink this wine, you’ll be able to have a nice, beautiful sleep. Even your shoulder won’t hurt anymore.”
“Mm, tasty, mm!” Yelü Qianxiao wolfed down the bun in one bite, his cheeks puffed round as he kept shaking his head and grinning foolishly.
So adorable! If he got drunk, would he become even cuter? Mo Bei wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth and smiled as if coaxing a child. “Your Highness, if you finish this wine, I’ll sing you a song.” As the saying went, if one wanted to raise a pet well, one had to use both firmness and gentleness. That was how she had raised Pumpkin before, too.
Yelü Qianxiao turned his head aside, the corners of his mouth twitching. He kept feeling that this fake eunuch’s smile was extremely lecherous, and that there was a strong intention to get him drunk so he could be taken advantage of at will.
(Ahem, Xiao-xiao, isn’t that exactly what you’re hoping for!)
Still, he really did want to hear Mo Bei sing. When his hair had been washed before, he had only heard a little; that light, lilting tone was neither cloying nor dull, and was exceedingly pleasant to the ear.
And he wanted to believe once more.
Though he had been betrayed so many times, just for tonight, he did not want to use even the slightest scheme on anyone.
“If Xiao-xiao finishes the wine, you have to sing a really, really nice song for me, okay? And I want buns and… roast, uh, roast?”
“Barbecue!” Mo Bei ruffled his hair and nodded heavily. “If Your Highness really drinks it all up, then tomorrow I’ll roast mushrooms, corn, and pork belly for you!” When she had gone to borrow the buns, she had conveniently taken a stroll through the imperial kitchen. There were plenty of ingredients; if one or two went missing, they probably wouldn’t notice. She could just go take some more tomorrow.
After hearing this, Yelü Qianxiao pinched his high nose in a very convincing manner. First, he licked it with the tip of his tongue, cried out that it was so bitter, then furrowed his thick brows and pretended to sip with great difficulty.
Almost at the same time, while he wasn’t paying attention, Mo Bei gulped down a mouthful of Huadiao wine and sprayed it all over his exposed shoulder.
“Hiss!” Yelü Qianxiao cried out in pain, his handsome face twisting into a knot. So this had been her true intention!
“All right. This way, it won’t get infected later.” As Mo Bei tore open his clothes, she asked worriedly, “Your Highness, does it hurt a lot?” There was no help for it. She couldn’t find any disinfectant, and in such hot weather, if the wound wasn’t treated, it could easily lead to tetanus.
Yelü Qianxiao nodded, directly accusing her with eyes like a little rabbit’s. In his heart, however, he was holding back his laughter so hard he nearly suffered internal injuries; the amusement that had reached his throat could only be dealt with by lowering his head and eating furiously.
He had never imagined that watching this fake eunuch worry over him would be this amusing! In the future, he would have to keep up the good work!
How could Mo Bei know of these thoughts? She only felt that she had gone a bit too far. After all, that was wine—spraying it on a wound definitely hurt more than being slashed with a blade.
Add to that those watery blue eyes, so innocent and pitiful, and anyone who saw them truly couldn’t bear it.
“Um…” The guilty Mo Bei cleared her throat and spoke awkwardly. “I’ll sing for Your Highness.”
Yelü Qianxiao abruptly raised his head. His body automatically leaned over, clinging to Mo Bei and refusing to let go; the meaning was that he wanted to be held while he listened.
“You really are just like Pumpkin, always liking to rely on people.” Mo Bei murmured the words aloud, only treating Yelü Qianxiao as a child, never imagining that he would, intentionally or otherwise, verify her sex.