She gently coaxed Lang Huan, "Don't be sad…" as her fingers lightly brushed the back of her head.
"Come," Lang Huan whispered, pulling her up slowly. "It's cold." Her voice was low, touched by the moment. "Let me shield Your Highness from the wind."
She drew Feng Yao into her warm robe and wrapped her arms around her in a protective embrace. Feng Yao rested her head against Lang Huan's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, and slowly closed her eyes.
Feng Yao had never liked physical contact. This was the first time she had ever truly embraced someone. The faint scent of wine on Lang Huan's robe mingled with Feng Yao's own light floral fragrance—a blend so natural, it smelled unexpectedly sweet.
She slid her hand slowly up Lang Huan's back, offering warmth in return.
Then, she lifted her head and looked up at Lang Huan's softly flushed cheeks.
Lang Huan leaned in, her gaze falling to the delicate lips just beneath the high bridge of her nose. The space between their faces was only a fist apart. It was warm and quiet, like the world had paused around them.
A strange impulse stirred in Lang Huan's chest. "What do your lips taste like?" she asked, her voice low and intoxicated by the wine.
Lang Huan's body heated up. "Your lips," she murmured, voice husky, "they smell so good…"
Feng Yao's eyes were full of confusion. She couldn't quite grasp what Lang Huan was thinking.
The sweetness of her lips—soft as morning dew—filled Lang Huan's senses, making her mouth dry.
"May I taste your lips?" she asked softly, as if afraid to break the moment.
Feng Yao hesitated. "it's just the fruity lip balm…"
"I want to taste your lips." Her hand rose gently to cup Feng Yao's chin.
Feng Yao lifted her own hand to rest lightly against Lang Huan's neck. "Will that… ease your sadness?" she asked in a whisper.
Lang Huan's lips curved in that signature smile, tender and a little mischievous.
"Of course," she said.
Lang Huan's heartbeat quickened. Slowly, she leaned in, her breath brushing against Feng Yao's skin like a whisper. Her lips met Feng Yao's in a soft, lingering touch, tracing the gentle curve and tasting the warmth that lingered there.
Feng Yao's fingers tightened around Lang Huan's robe, her thoughts scattering like petals in the wind.
As her lips parted slightly, Lang Huan deepened the kiss. Her movements grew bolder—her tongue slipping into the warmth, brushing tentatively against Feng Yao's, then chasing, dancing, coaxing her into the rhythm.
A soft gasp escaped Feng Yao as her brow knit in quiet confusion. Their bodies pressed close beneath the robe, breath mingling in the silence.
"Huan'er…"
The gentle voice of a woman broke through the moment.
Startled, Feng Yao instinctively pushed Lang Huan away. Lang Huan stumbled back slightly, her face flushed bright red—like a child caught red-handed by a parent.
Su Qing stood not far from them, watching quietly. No one knew how long she had been there.
"Qingqing…" Lang Huan breathed, her voice trembling just a little.
Feng Yao, in contrast, remained perfectly composed—her expression calm, as if nothing had happened.
A strange tension passed between two beautiful women. Their eyes met, sharp and cold, like an unspoken battle. Lang Huan could feel something wasn't right, but she couldn't name it.
"Come in," Su Qing said finally, her voice polite but distant. "Your father is looking for you."
Lang Huan gave an awkward nod. As she stepped toward Su Qing, the woman reached out and gently smoothed the wrinkles on her robe, her fingers brushing over the fabric.
Then, she gave Lang Huan a soft pat on the back. "It's cold out here," she said with a faint smile. "Go on inside first."
Lang Huan hesitated for half a second, her eyes flicking briefly toward Feng Yao… before turning away.
Su Qing walked toward Feng Yao, her voice laced with quiet disdain. "Don't drag Lang Huan into your filthy little games. I know exactly why you're trying to get close to him."
Feng Yao arched an eyebrow, calm and unbothered. "Oh? Is there something wrong with me being close to Lang Huan? We're both single, after all."
She took a slow step closer. "Madam Su, if we're talking about intentions… it seems you also have your own toward your stepson."
Without waiting for a reply, Feng Yao turned on walk away headed back into the banquet hall.
The Emperor and Empress had already left the hall to rest early due to feeling unwell, leaving the guests to continue the banquet on their own.
Inside, Lang Huan sat at the same table as before, visibly tipsy—her cheeks flushed. Her drinking tolerance had always been low, and tonight's wine had clearly gotten the better of her.
As soon as she saw Feng Yao, her eyes lit up. She reached out and caught Feng Yao's hand, her voice slightly slurred, "What happened? Why Your Highness gone so long?"
Feng Yao didn't answer. She simply took the wine pot from Lang Huan's hand and set it aside. "No more drinking," she said calmly. Then she turned to A Li, who had been standing nearby. "Go prepare some sobering soup."
She was about to pout, but it faded when Feng Yao brushed her cheek to check the warmth of her skin. After tasting those sweet lips, she became an obedient kitten.
"Drink it," Feng Yao said gently, placing a warm bowl of sobering soup into Lang Huan's hands.
Lang Huan couldn't hold the bowl steady. Feng Yao sighed softly, took the bowl back, and leaned closer to feed her slowly, spoon by spoon. She then gave Lang Huan a hot towel to wipe her face.
The Duke of Huguo watched Lang Huan and the eldest princess interact, smiling curiously as he wondered about their relationship.
He walked over to the Eldest Princess and gave a polite bow. "Your Highness," he said warmly, "I apologize for Lang Huan's behavior."
The eldest princess smiled gently. "There's no need to worry, Duke Ye," she said calmly. "Lang Huan is just a little drunk."
Just then, Su Qing walked up and gently held Lang Huan, who was swaying a bit. She looked at her husband and said, "I think I should take Lang Huan home now."
The Duke of Huguo nodded in agreement. "Okay, Madam. You take care of Lang Huan—I'll handle things here."
Su Qing gave a soft smile and began to support Lang Huan, one arm around her to keep her steady. The eldest princess watched them leave, but her mind was deep in thought.
She then spoke softly, turning to her maid, "A Li, let's go too. There's nothing interesting left here."
As they stepped outside, the eldest princess called out quietly, "Qiu Yue, go help Madam Su get Lang Huan into the carriage."
Qiu Yue bowed and quickly moved forward. The eldest princess remained where she was, the chill of the night brushing past her, her gaze lingering on Lang Huan—half-leaning in Su Qing's arms.