Shen Ling'er stepped into the study, set the teapot on the table, and poured him a cup, then one for herself.
From the same spout, facing the same direction.
Gu Moran looked at the color of the two cups of tea.
The same.
He picked his up, took a sip, and rolled it over his tongue.
Longjing. Normal Longjing, with nothing added.
The side of the cup still held the warmth of her fingertips, and it warmed a small patch of skin between his thumb and forefinger.
"Ling'er, have you changed your ways today?"
"I don't want to fight with you today, husband."
"Then what do you want to do?"
"Talk."
She sat down across the table, cradling her cup in both hands and rubbing her fingertips back and forth against its side.
The candlelight cast two shadows across the table, one large and one small.
Gu Moran closed his book, set it aside, and leaned back in his chair, waiting for her to speak.
Shen Ling'er didn't speak right away. She took a sip of tea, then another.
"Husband."
"Mm."
"Are you really a wastrel?"
She had asked him this before, that time with the osmanthus cakes in the Green Vine Courtyard. His answer had been, "Of course this prince is a wastrel. Who in the whole capital doesn't know that?"
A textbook brush-off.
Tonight, she wouldn't settle for a brush-off.
Gu Moran looked at her without answering immediately.
"What do you think?"
"I don't think you are."
"Then what am I?"
Shen Ling'er tilted her head and thought for a moment.
"I haven't figured that out yet."
She put down her cup and traced a circle on the table with her finger.
"Mother Consort said something to me today."
"What did she say?"
"She said, 'Ling'er, my son is a good child. He's just tired from the way he lives.'"
Gu Moran's finger paused on the rim of his cup for a beat.
Wind from outside the hall squeezed through a crack in the window, and the candle flame bent before straightening again.
"A man who even dares to visit the Flower-Between Pavilion, who sticks flowers in his bowl of medicine, is tired from the way he lives?"
Shen Ling'er shook her head.
"I don't believe it."
"But Mother Consort's eyes were red when she said it."
Gu Moran said nothing.
Silence stretched on for a while.
"So I didn't come tonight to sound you out."
She drew her hands back from the table and placed them on her knees.
"I came to see whether you're really tired."
Gu Moran looked at the face before him.
Her round eyes shone a little in the candlelight. They held none of the scheming from the last time, with the incense, nor the coquettishness from the time with the osmanthus cakes.
She was simply looking at him.
Looking at him with an unclouded gaze.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"Ling'er."
"Mm?"
"This move of yours is more potent than cattail pollen or Spirit-Relaxing Powder."
Shen Ling'er froze for a moment.
"What move?"
"Leaving yourself open."
He lowered his head and took a sip of tea.
The tea had gone cold, and its astringency was stronger than when it had first been brewed, settling at the back of his tongue.
"I'm not using any moves." Shen Ling'er's voice softened. "I'm serious today."
"I know."
"Then answer me. Are you tired?"
Gu Moran set the cup on the table and ran two fingers around its rim.
He didn't answer.
But his right hand rose from the table, hovered in the air for a breath, then landed on the back of his neck and rubbed hard twice.
The gesture wasn't for anyone's benefit.
He really was sore.
He had spent the whole day sitting in the study, and his neck and shoulders had long since gone stiff.
Shen Ling'er watched the hand rubbing his neck and stood up.
Gu Moran looked up.
"What are you doing?"
"Don't move."
She walked around behind his chair and laid both hands on Gu Moran's shoulders.
Her fingers were small, but her touch was unexpectedly precise. She found the Shoulder Well points and pressed down.
Gu Moran's back tensed.
"Ling'er, you..."
"I came from the Imperial Medical Bureau. I know how to press an acupoint or two, so shut up."
Her thumbs pushed down along the lines of his shoulders and neck, pressing each acupoint they passed with just the right amount of force.
The fabric rustled softly beneath her fingertips.
When she reached the base of his neck, her fingertips brushed a few loose strands of hair. They slipped between her fingers, bringing the faintest tickle.
Gu Moran's neck slowly relaxed, and his head tilted back two inches.
From this angle, he could see Shen Ling'er's chin.
Round, with a slight point.
Shen Ling'er's breath fell from above, warm against the crown of Gu Moran's head, one breath after another.
"Ling'er."
"Mm?"
"Were you nervous when you went into Hanzhang Hall today?"
Her fingers paused for a beat, then resumed pressing.
"Nervous to death."
"And then?"
"Mother Consort talked medicine with me, and I stopped being nervous. Once the subject turns to medicine, I'm not afraid of anything."
"You've been making your own prescriptions since you were little?"
"Mm, the first prescription I made was for Grandpa's cough. It took me three tries to get it right. The first two nearly gave him nosebleeds."
Gu Moran laughed.
It wasn't the frivolous laugh of a wastrel, but a low sound that rose from his throat.
Shen Ling'er's fingers paused on his shoulders.
It was the first time she had heard Gu Moran truly laugh.
"What are you laughing at?"
"At you, using your grandpa to test medicine."
"That was testing its effects!"
"All right, all right, testing its effects."
Gu Moran tilted his head back a little farther.
In those few seconds, the distance between them shrank until their hair brushed.
Shen Ling'er could smell the ink on him, mixed with the faint herbal scent left by the Marrow-Cleansing Pill.
He could smell osmanthus on Shen Ling'er. It wasn't from the flower beds in the courtyard, but from the sachet she carried, tucked inside her collar, its scent growing stronger and fainter with each breath.
"Ling'er."
"Mm?"
"That's enough. I'm not sore anymore."
"Oh."
Shen Ling'er didn't immediately take her hands away.
They lingered on his shoulders for two more breaths, her fingertips resting against the taut tendon at the side of Gu Moran's neck, feeling it loosen little by little.
Then she slowly lifted her hands and took a step back.
Gu Moran straightened his neck and turned to look at her.
Shen Ling'er stood behind the chair, her fingers clasped inside her sleeves, her expression different from usual.
No sweet smile, none of her usual fluttering of those round eyes.
She was simply looking at him.
"Husband, you still haven't answered me."
"What?"
"Are you tired?"
Gu Moran looked at her face.
The candle flame flickered in his pupils.
He opened his mouth.
"A little."
Three words.
Shen Ling'er's eyes curved slightly.
It wasn't a smile, but something she couldn't quite describe. The corners of her mouth didn't move, but the curve at the corners of her eyes changed.
"Then I'll pour you a hot cup."
She turned to reach for the teapot on the table.
Her foot caught on a chair leg.
She pitched forward.
The teapot flew from her hand and spun on the tabletop.
Gu Moran reached out, catching the teapot with one hand and her arm with the other.
The teapot didn't fall.
Neither did she.
But Shen Ling'er's full weight pressed down on Gu Moran's outstretched arm, and her body tipped forward. In an instant, their faces were less than three inches apart.
They both froze.
Shen Ling'er's breath brushed the tip of his nose, warm and carrying the astringency of Longjing tea.
Gu Moran's fingers gripped her forearm. Through the layer of fabric, he could feel her skin burning hot.
A breath of silence.
Two breaths.
Three.
Neither moved.
Then Shen Ling'er's lips touched his.
It wasn't intentional.
After losing her balance, her body had slipped forward that one inch.
But a touch was still a touch.
Lips pressed against lips, dry and warm, with the taste of tea.
Shen Ling'er's mind went blank.
She should have pulled away.
She didn't.
Gu Moran should have let go too.
He didn't either.
His fingers tightened a little around Shen Ling'er's forearm, drawing her forward half an inch.
That half inch turned a touch into a press.
The candle flame bent in the wind slipping through the window crack, and a shadow flickered across the wall.
At some point, the wind had pushed the study door nearly shut, leaving it open just a crack.
Shen Ling'er's eyelashes brushed his face, tickling him.
She drew back a little, and their lips parted, but they were still close.
His breath grazed the corner of her mouth, which she had yet to pull away, hot against the small patch of skin it warmed again and again.
"Husband."
"Mm."
"I think I just kissed you."
"Mm."
"I didn't mean to."
"Mm."
"Can't you say anything besides 'mm'?"
Gu Moran looked into her round eyes, so close to his own. There was panic in them, and shyness, and a little anticipation she might not even have been aware of herself.
He released his grip on her forearm.
Then, with that hand, he gently pinched her earlobe.
It was hot.
The pad of his finger passed over the tiny piercing, lingering for another stroke against the soft flesh.
"Ling'er, your ears are red again."
"Shut up!"