Not Even Pretending Anymore

She was aloof and utterly self-possessed, dignified and composed, as though nothing in this world could ever move her.

That was, of course, assuming she was not sitting in Gu Chengyin’s arms.

After calling him Master, Luo Zhao simply made no attempt to get up.

Not only did she remain where she was, but she nestled even more deeply into Gu Chengyin’s embrace.

Then she reached out, pulled the memorials on the desk closer to herself, picked up the vermilion brush, and resumed reviewing them.

It was as though she were sitting in a cushioned chair rather than in a man’s arms.

Gu Chengyin carefully studied the Luo Zhao in his embrace.

The tips of her ears were still red, red as cherries freshly plucked from the branch, betraying the embarrassment in her heart without reserve.

Yet her expression was terrifyingly calm. The vermilion brush moved steadily across the paper, her annotations neat and elegant, without the slightest tremor.

When Gu Chengyin looked at her, she even tilted her head slightly and glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

Luo Zhao was testing him.

Testing Gu Chengyin’s limits, testing just how much he was willing to accept.

Just now, he had gripped her by the neck, giving her the suffocation and sense of control she had long desired. That had confirmed one thing to Luo Zhao.

Gu Chengyin wanted her.

The realization made her whole body tremble with excitement, and it also gave her considerably more courage.

Since Gu Chengyin could accept her like this, could she take things one step further?

Could she do more than call him Master and cling to his embrace like a well-behaved little dog adored by its owner?

So Luo Zhao did not get up.

Not only did she remain seated, but she also picked up the memorials and continued reviewing them, using this almost petulant gesture to tell Gu Chengyin:

I’m staying right here. Even if you tell me to leave, I won’t.

And if you don’t, then you’re agreeing to it.

Logically speaking, things should have progressed to something rather indescribable by now.

Luo Zhao was clearly expecting that as well.

Her vermilion brush moved more and more slowly across the memorial. Although her annotations remained neat, there were noticeably more unnecessary pauses than before.

Her breathing had also grown several degrees more hurried. Each breath she drew was deeper than the last.

It was as though she were greedily drinking in Gu Chengyin’s scent, or perhaps using that method to suppress something else.

Her back was still held perfectly straight, but the bearing of a Crown Prince was no longer present in that rigid posture.

All that remained was a deliberate, feigned composure that might collapse at any moment.

Luo Zhao was waiting.

Waiting for Gu Chengyin to do something.

Waiting for him to place his hand around her neck as he had before, tightening it, then tightening it further.

Or to do something else. Anything would do.

As long as it was something Master did, she...

“Now that Yunying has resigned, do you have anyone in mind for the position of Chief Lady Official?”

Gu Chengyin’s voice rang out, proper and composed. He had asked an utterly serious question about official business.

Luo Zhao’s vermilion brush stopped.

The tip hovered three inches above the official document and did not come down.

Her lashes fluttered several times in rapid succession, as though she were trying to process what Gu Chengyin had just said, or confirm that she had not misheard him.

Her lips parted slightly, then closed, then parted again, like a fish suddenly lifted from the water. Its mouth opened and closed, yet no sound came out.

Official business?

He was asking her about official business at a time like this?

She was sitting in his arms, leaning against his chest, with red marks still visible around her neck.

Her entire body was like a bow drawn to its limit, waiting only for the instant the string was released.

And Gu Chengyin had asked her: Did she have anyone in mind for the position of Chief Lady Official?

Luo Zhao set down the brush.

She placed it on the jade brush rest, where it made a crisp sound.

Her fingers moved away from the shaft, curling slightly as though she were enduring something.

It was impossible to say she was not disappointed.

It was like opening a packet of candied fruit full of anticipation, only to discover that it was empty.

Luo Zhao had thought Gu Chengyin would take advantage of their solitude, while she was still clinging to his embrace, and do something even more perverse.

For example, he might pin her hands behind her back and force her down onto the desk. The memorials would be shoved aside, and the vermilion brush would roll to the floor.

Her cheek would press against the cold tabletop as his palm slid down from the back of her neck.

Or he might turn her around in his arms and have her straddle him face-to-face, her hands resting on his shoulders.

Their foreheads would touch, their breaths mingling, while her collar was slowly peeled open to reveal more of the fair skin beneath.

Or perhaps he would grip her neck again.

This time, he would not merely hold it, but tighten his grip. Tighten it until her vision began to darken, until her consciousness grew hazy.

Tighten it until her entire world was reduced to the pressure and warmth of his fingers, then release her abruptly at the brink of suffocation.

Air would rush back into her windpipe, and she would tremble, curling into a ball beneath the dying ecstasy of that near-death sensation.

Or even...

No, no. What was she thinking?

Luo Zhao forcibly dragged her thoughts back, as though she had reached out from the edge of a cliff and seized a runaway horse by the reins.

Her cheeks flushed bright red in an instant, redder than at any point before, like the sunset setting half the sky ablaze.

The color spread from her cheekbones to the roots of her ears, then from her ears down her neck, bathing her entire body in a captivating crimson hue.

Luo Zhao cursed herself viciously in her heart.

You are the Crown Prince, the future Empress of Great Luo, a model for all beneath heaven.

How can you think about such things?

How can you look forward to him pinning you against the desk?

How can you look forward to him opening your collar?

How can you look forward to him choking you until you can barely breathe?

But even after scolding herself, those images still refused to leave Luo Zhao’s mind.

They did not merely linger; they became even clearer.

Clear enough for her to imagine the warmth of his fingers, the icy sensation of the tabletop against her skin.

Clear enough for her to imagine the haze of consciousness that came with suffocation, when the entire world was reduced to the overwhelming satisfaction of Gu Chengyin.

In the end, Luo Zhao drew a deep breath and tried to make her expression appear normal.

Her face was still faintly flushed, the blush refusing to fade.

It was like a valley covered in peach blossoms in spring, where a breeze sent petals drifting through the air.

But this time, she did not avert her gaze. Instead, she looked straight at Gu Chengyin.

“Does Master have someone in mind?”

Her tone was natural and her manner composed, as though she had not just been imagining all sorts of perverse scenes, but had been contemplating some perfectly respectable matter of state.

She had also grown much more accustomed to calling him Master. The word slipped smoothly from the tip of her tongue, carrying a dependence that felt entirely natural.

At the sound of that word, Gu Chengyin’s eye twitched.

This Highness really was not even pretending anymore.

But Gu Chengyin did not dwell on it. Luo Zhao dared to call him Master simply because there was no one else around.

There were no eyes watching them, no Crown Prince’s identity to uphold, no posturing she had to maintain, and no rules she was required to obey.

So compared with that, what concerned Gu Chengyin more was the candidate for the new Chief Lady Official.

“I think Zilu would be a very good choice.”