Chapter 81: The Patron Seeking Amusement

It was the first time Xia Jiujiang had ever run wild through Xishui Street; she let her feet fly, clutching glutinous rice flour dumplings, sugar figurines, lotus pastries, dragon's beard candy, candied hawthorn, golden crisp rolls, peach slices, and almond preserves in her hands...

Jun Buwen clicked his tongue in astonishment. “Were you starving to death at the Prince Jin’s manor? Are you planning to eat yourself into a stupor on Xishui Street?”

“Aren’t you going to eat? It’s delicious.” Xia Jiujiang’s words were muffled as she stuffed a glutinous rice dumpling into her mouth.

Only then did Jun Buwen realize just how much Xia Jiujiang loved sweets. Since he himself had no taste for them, there were never any at Prince Jin’s manor, but seeing her so happily clutching her treats, he found it rather pleasant.

A playful impulse arose in him. He glanced at Xia Jiujiang and said, “Is it sweet?”

She nodded. “Very swe—”

Before she could finish, Jun Buwen suddenly bent down and brushed his lips against hers. For the briefest second, Xia Jiujiang felt as if lightning had struck her—she went rigid, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at Jun Buwen.

He, however, seemed perfectly composed, savoring the moment with utter seriousness. “Indeed, very sweet.”

Even Jun Buwen didn’t know what had possessed him to do something so reckless. He had always kept his distance from women, and yet, somewhere along the way, he found himself paying more and more attention to Xia Jiujiang. Her every gesture and expression amused him, and now, he had acted on a whim, tasting sweetness in such an audacious manner.

Xia Jiujiang was stupefied. Was this really the time for such things? Jun Buwen... had just kissed her!

She blurted out in shock, “You actually kissed me!”

With a look of utter nonchalance, Jun Buwen replied, “What of it? When I was suffering from my fever, you kissed me to transfer your breath—this isn’t the first time.”

Flushing red, Xia Jiujiang stammered, “That’s not the same... Well, yes, but... you... I...”

How could they be the same? That was to save his life. This, however, felt like a natural intimacy between two people, the kind of sweetness and happiness that belonged only to them.

Her heart thudded wildly. When had Jun Buwen become so forward? Something was amiss.

Trying to save face, Xia Jiujiang forced a smile. “Well... you’re right, I suppose. Are we showing off our affection in public? With so many people on Xishui Street, it’s the perfect place, isn’t it, ha ha...”

Jun Buwen’s face fell instantly. Did she really think he’d kissed her just to show off in front of others?

“You think I did it to show off?” His eyes grew sharp with an unspoken threat, making Xia Jiujiang freeze.

She hastily pointed in another direction to change the subject. “Look... there’s more food over there... I’ll go get some.” With that, she bolted away.

She felt it was dangerous to remain there any longer.

“Hey, don’t run off!” Jun Buwen called after her.

Watching her retreating figure, he wondered if his boldness had really been so frightening—she’d nearly tripped over herself in her haste to escape.

In the blink of an eye, Xia Jiujiang had vanished into the bustling crowd. Xishui Street was indeed lively, filled with pastries, snacks, scented sachets, and flowered umbrellas in dazzling array.

Not far off, Nightkill, Green Dew, and Youhua had witnessed the scene. Nightkill’s face darkened as he turned to Green Dew. “What did your mistress feed His Highness to make him act like this?”

Dressed as a pageboy, Green Dew replied smugly, “Are you blind? Didn’t you see His Highness kiss the princess of his own accord? I told you, our mistress is irresistible.”

Nightkill shot her a look, thinking, Like master, like servant. The mistress was dressed as a man, and now her maid was too—what a pair.

He rolled his eyes. “Irresistible? Where? I certainly don’t see it.”

Green Dew snorted. “Of course you don’t. You don’t like her, so how could you see it? I wonder which poor girl will be unlucky enough to catch your eye—what a blockhead.”

Nightkill glared at her, and as soon as the two were together, they began bickering. Youhua, who’d lagged a step behind, stood watching them, her eyes glinting with a cold, ghostly light.

Xishui Street was a melting pot of all sorts—swordsmen with blades at their waists, burly warriors, beggars, and elegantly dressed young lords. Unlike the opulent Zhuque Street, here the simple life of the common folk exuded a carefree, unrestrained joy.

Hidden in a corner, Xia Jiujiang’s mind was in turmoil. As the heir of a long line of healers and poison-masters, her heart should have been as strong as steel, yet now it felt as though it might burst forth from her chest.

What on earth had gotten into Jun Buwen just now, acting so naturally as he took liberties with her? There had been none of that untouchable, otherworldly air he’d always maintained before.

She slapped her cheeks to clear her head. What was she thinking? Jun Buwen must be testing her.

Yes! That had to be it.

Hmph, she’d almost fallen into his trap—she mustn’t let herself be so easily manipulated. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.

Meanwhile, as Jun Buwen searched the throng for her, lost in thought, a soft hand suddenly rested on his shoulder, and a sultry voice purred, “Such a handsome gentleman, come in and have some fun, won’t you?”

Perhaps it was Jun Buwen’s extraordinary bearing that made him stand out at a glance. His striking features made women want to draw near, and his moon-white robe, embroidered with golden cranes, clearly bespoke wealth—a prime mark.

Jun Buwen’s face turned icy. “Get lost.” How dare this woman touch him? He glanced at the spot where she’d laid a hand on his robe—he’d have to burn this garment when he got home.

“Oh, playing coy, are we? You’ve been standing at the door so long—why not come inside?” The woman tried to tug him in by his sleeve.

He turned to see the blush-colored storefront behind him, the bold characters above reading “Drunken Dream Pavilion,” with scantily clad women beckoning from the doorway.

Xishui Street was not like Zhuque Street, and Drunken Dream Pavilion was no refined brothel like Fragrant Pavilion. Here, the business was pure flesh trade, without the cultured airs of the other establishment.

Had he, Jun Buwen, really been mistaken for a pleasure-seeker?

As the woman persisted, Xia Jiujiang caught sight of her husband being accosted. She rushed over, quickly wrapping her arm around Jun Buwen’s and declaring, “Husband, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you...”