Chapter 108: Opening the Second Battlefield

Outside the door, Huang Rong leisurely paced to her own room door, her hand just resting on the doorknob, the faint clamor and slight creak of the bedboards from Ling'er's room next door drifted through the door panel, barely reaching her ears.

She stopped in her tracks, tilted her ear to listen for a moment, and the knowing, mischievous smile at the corner of her lips deepened silently, almost bending toward her ears.

She could even picture Zhao Ling'er frantically trying to 'suppress' Shuang'er's boundless curiosity inside the room.

Huang Rong shook her head, the smile in her eyes like tiny starlight, carrying the pleasure of seeing through everything.

In the end she said nothing, merely turned her door handle gently, slipped inside, her movement swift and silent.

The door closed softly behind her, completely cutting off the last trace of upstairs, secret and heated sounds from the hallway.

The entire fortress's second floor finally fell utterly silent, leaving only the deep, boundless night outside the window.

After a long while, a faint creak of a door opening sounded in the dark hallway, the hinge's turn deliberately made extremely quiet in the silence, yet in this hallway where even a dropped pin could be heard, it remained as clear as a stone dropped into a lake.

A sturdy figure slipped out silently from the door crack—Li Qingxuan—who, with a backhand, gently shut the door behind him, his movement light as a cat's.

His eyes, still bright in the darkness, glanced at Huang Rong's tightly shut door, his gaze lingering only a moment before shifting to Zhao Ling'er and Shuang'er's door.

That door was also shut tight, with no sound audible; presumably both had fallen into deep sleep.

He did not linger in the hallway, but like a shadow merging with the night, he silently arrived at their room door, lightly placed his hand on the knob, slowly turned it, slipped inside without a sound, and the door closed behind him seamlessly.

Zhao Ling'er lay in bed for a long time unable to sleep, listening to Shuang'er's breathing, striving to keep herself from wandering thoughts.

In a daze, she vaguely saw a dark shadow at the bedside, about to cry out, when a hand covered her mouth; Li Qingxuan hurriedly whispered, "It's me, why aren't you asleep yet?"

Hearing the familiar voice, Zhao Ling'er relaxed her body, allowing his warm palm to press against her lips.

In the darkness, his outline was close at hand; his breath carried a barely perceptible quickness that brushed her temples, his unique scent instantly enveloping her, stronger and more heart‑racing than it had been in the living room.

"Qingxuan brother," Zhao Ling'er whispered, her voice as thin as a mosquito's hum, tinged with the lingering shock of being startled and deep shyness, sounding especially clear in the quiet room; she instinctively tried to shrink into the blanket, but Li Qingxuan gently pressed her shoulder.

"Come, I'll play a game with you," Li Qingxuan chuckled, his voice lowered to a whisper, like a feather lightly brushing the heart.

Li Qingxuan did not immediately release his hand covering her mouth; his fingertip unconsciously stroked the edge of her soft lips, the faint touch like an electric current that made Zhao Ling'er shudder all over, her breath suddenly disrupted; only then did he realize how sensitive she was, slowly withdrawing his hand but not stepping back, instead, using the faint light from the window, he gazed at her more intently.

Even though she could not see the expression in his eyes, Zhao Ling'er could feel the heat of his gaze, as if it could pierce the darkness and lay bare the hidden anticipation and panic in her heart.

"Shuang'er… Shuang'er just fell asleep…" she stammered, looking for an excuse, her voice trembling almost out of tune, fearful of waking the sleeping little maid beside her and of revealing her pounding heart.

"I know," Li Qingxuan said, his voice still low and steady yet carrying a strange soothing power; his fingertip gently brushed aside a stray lock of hair on her forehead, the motion as natural as if he had done it countless times, his cool fingertip touching her scorching brow, he whispered, "Let's start with you."

She felt his approaching breath, carrying the faint freshness after a bath and a deeper, masculine aggressiveness, pinning her firmly in place, unable to move.

Her throat felt dry enough to smoke, all the words she wanted to say lodged in her throat, leaving only her ever‑faster heartbeat thudding in the quiet room, numbing her eardrums; the flush on her cheeks had already spread to her neck, burning hot even in the dim light.

She could even feel her body trembling slightly, half from tension, half from an indescribable anticipation that both frightened and thrilled her; she could only lie stiffly, letting the darkness' temperature rise unnoticed.

Woken by the suppressed panting beside her ear and the slight shaking of the bed, Zhao Shuang'er slowly opened her eyes to see Li Qingxuan and her sister in the midst of activity, her pupils contracting sharply.

Li Qingxuan noticed Zhao Shuang'er's breathing suddenly hitch, so he pulled her to his side, standing shoulder‑to‑shoulder with her sister, and continued what they had been doing.

After an unknown period, Li Qingxuan cleaned the weary pair, intending to return to his room; he opened the door gently, and a figure stumbled in—upon closer look, it was Huang Rong.

"Oh dear!" Huang Rong exclaimed, caught off guard, losing her balance and instinctively bracing her hands on the floor to avoid falling flat; she then lifted her head—was there any trace of embarrassment from being caught eavesdropping left on her face?

Li Qingxuan silently watched her slightly flustered, astonished face gradually calm, the signature smile—mischievous and knowing—quickly blooming in his eyes like ripples from a stone tossed into a lake.

Even while sitting askew, she tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping the room with interest—past Zhao Ling'er, clothes disheveled, face flushed, wishing to bury herself in the blankets; past Shuang'er, equally embarrassed, eyes darting away; finally, her amused gaze settled on the figure inside the door, the tall man who had just finished a bout of 'Labor'.

Li Qingxuan clearly hadn't expected anyone outside the door, nor that she would 'tumble' in this way; he raised his eyebrows slightly, his deep eyes flashing a hint of surprise in the dim light, but his rock‑like composure remained unshaken.

He simply stood still, as if opening the door had been nothing out of the ordinary, his face still retaining a hint of post‑exercise languor.

"Yo," Huang Rong said, drawing out the syllable on purpose, lightly breaking the moment's stillness.

She clapped her hands, rose smoothly to her feet as if the tumble had been merely a minor interlude, brushing off nonexistent dust from her skirt, "I was wondering why the noise next door had just stopped and this door opened again… turns out it's you, Qingxuan…"

She paused deliberately, her eyes flickering with mischief that almost overflowed, "…opening the Second Battlefield?"

"Sister Rong!" Zhao Ling'er gasped, her voice trembling with tears, curling completely into the blankets, only her eyes—misty, mingling shame and indignation—showing.

Shuang'er also buried her head low, her small hands clutching the blanket's edge, not daring to breathe.

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