The Scholar's Wife 12

...The Emperor?

The young woman's red lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but before the words could leave her mouth, a stream of crystalline tears rolled down her upturned little face.

"I'll save you. Don't be afraid."

It felt as if his heart had been pricked with a faint pain; Xiao Mingting's jaw tightened, yet his tone remained steady.

He only gripped the girl's small hand harder, slowly pulling her up.

The warmth in the man's palm was scorching, pressing against her skin with a soothing force.

Chen Yao bit her lip, her small voice hoarse as she softly acknowledged. Though her eyes were rimmed red and her apricot eyes still brimmed with tears, at least with something to hold onto, her fear had greatly diminished.

Until Xiao Mingting pulled her up bit by bit, finally drawing her forcefully into his broad, sturdy embrace, and her nose caught the faint scent of dragon's incense on him.

Just as Chen Yao felt herself relax, a hair-raising series of "clack, clack" sounds—like gears and bearings turning—rang out again from beside her ear.

The next second, even the ground beneath Xiao Mingting's feet tilted sharply downward.

No matter how quick his reflexes were, with the delicate girl still cradled in his arms, he was only a beat too slow—and then they both tumbled into the opening beneath them, embracing unexpectedly.

At the same time, the opening above let out another "clack" as it quickly sealed shut, plunging everything into pitch blackness.

As they rolled downward, Chen Yao felt the arm wrapped around her tighten slightly, pressing her deeper into his chest.

It seemed only a second passed, or perhaps a long while, before a muffled "thud" sounded as they landed heavily on the ground.

In the darkness, an obvious suppressed groan came from beneath her.

Chen Yao's small body trembled, and she hastily tried to scramble up from the man's embrace.

But she had barely moved an inch before she paled and let out a soft "hiss."

A piercing pain shot through her right ankle, making her arm propped against his chest go weak, and she collapsed back into his hold.

"I'm sorry."

Chen Yao's forehead gently knocked against his chest. She tried to endure the pain in her foot, fresh teardrops clinging to her lowered lashes as she apologized in a soft voice.

Xiao Mingting had reflexively shielded her with his own body as they fell. Add to that his martial artist's sturdy frame, and such a height and impact were nothing to him.

But it was the girl lying bonelessly against his chest that left him at a loss.

Especially hearing her soft exclamation of surprise—it was like a feather tickling across his heart.

Thanks to his excellent vision, even in the dim surroundings, he could see her pretty cheeks were damp, seemingly soaked with tears.

"What's wrong?" Xiao Mingting sat up on the ground, but his large hand remained locked onto her waist, letting her sit steadily in his lap.

He instinctively raised his hand to wipe away the crystalline tears on the girl's face, but in the end, he stopped it midair and pulled it back.

"Your Majesty." Chen Yao sniffled softly, her voice choking with grievance as she suppressed the pain. "I think I sprained my foot."

Xiao Mingting let out a soft sigh but still reached down to feel in the dark. "Which foot?"

"It... it should be the right one." Chen Yao's voice was tiny, like a mosquito's buzz.

But soon, she felt his slender, defined fingers land on her soft thigh, and her small body immediately trembled. She hurriedly reached out to grab his hand.

"Not there." She spoke timidly, seemingly full of shyness.

"Sorry," Xiao Mingting said.

His pitch-black pupils glimmered with a faint luster, the depths of his eyes obscure and unreadable.

He only remained silent, allowing the girl's warm, soft little hand to guide his palm, shifting it little by little toward her right foot.

It wasn't until the girl's small hand let go that Xiao Mingting opened his palm and slowly pressed it closer.

Chen Yao was wearing a pair of soft satin pearl-embroidered shoes today. The shoe tops weren't high, and even through the thin silk socks, he could clearly feel her slender ankle.

But as soon as his fingertip pressed down lightly, without applying any force, he felt the small foot in his hand tremble slightly.

Chen Yao couldn't help but turn around, clutching the man's clothes as she buried her entire face into his chest, pitifully murmuring, "It hurts."

Xiao Mingting tightened his arm around her waist a bit more. He lowered his head and gently brushed his chin against her hair, soothing her in a warm voice, "Bear with it for a bit; it'll be over soon."

Though the view before him was dim, he had accumulated some basic medical knowledge from his childhood in the palace, where he was neglected and ignored, forced to treat his own injuries. With that, Xiao Mingting quickly assessed her condition.

"It's just a slight sprain," he said in a low voice. "Nothing serious. I'll set it back in place for you."

Chen Yao obediently acknowledged.

Then she felt the man's fingertips fumble around, clumsily but successfully slipping off the shoe and sock from her right foot.

Xiao Mingting inhaled steadily, using his long, slender fingers to gently pinch the girl's bare little foot while his other hand encircled the area above her ankle.

His movements were clean and swift, and with a crisp "click," the misaligned bone in the girl's ankle was set back into place.

"Mm..." Chen Yao whimpered in pain, and tears spilled out again.

Xiao Mingting clearly felt the dampness seeping into his chest, and his heart tightened in response.

"Is there anywhere else that still hurts?" he asked gently.

His calloused fingertip continued to slowly probe along her ankle, testing whether any other bone was out of alignment.

But in the end, he found nothing wrong. He could only lower his head and press a comforting kiss to her soft hair, saying, "Come, move it gently and see where it still hurts."

Chen Yao snapped back to her senses. Her small hand still clutching his clothes, she tentatively moved her little foot, which was still cradled in his palm.

"It... doesn't hurt anymore?"

She blinked in surprise, sat up a little straighter, and instinctively looked down toward her foot.

But the view before her was dim. Though she could make out some outlines after her eyes adjusted, she still couldn't see clearly.

So Chen Yao couldn't help but wiggle her ankle a little more. Though tears still clung to her lashes, her tone had lifted noticeably.

"It really doesn't hurt," she affirmed.

"Good," Xiao Mingting said, also letting out a breath of relief.

And so, aside from the shallow breathing of the man and woman, the dark passage fell silent once more.

Only then did Chen Yao belatedly realize that the scorching hand of this unfamiliar man was still gently holding her bare little foot, stripped of its shoe and sock.

The tears on her cheeks had dried somewhat, but now a blush slowly crept back over them.

The girl's long lashes trembled fragilely like butterfly wings as she gently tried to pull her little foot back, as if to silently remind him.

But the next second, Xiao Mingting clenched it even more firmly in his palm.

She could even clearly feel his calloused fingertip unconsciously stroke the soft sole of her foot.

Chen Yao's small body trembled again, but she didn't dare resist. She could only purse her lips and weakly say, "It tickles."

Xiao Mingting's Adam's apple bobbed, the ink-black in his eyes churning wildly, but in the end, he carefully held her little foot and helped her put the shoe and sock back on.

Then, in a low, hoarse voice, he said, "Sorry."

Chen Yao lowered her head, her snow-white teeth gently biting her lower lip, at a loss as she shook her head.

Only when she finally felt the man release her little foot did she visibly breathe a sigh of relief, then prepared to stand up from his embrace.

But her movement was quickly halted as Xiao Mingting raised a hand to press her back down.

His voice was calm. "The light here is dim, and you just sprained your foot. To avoid any more accidents, I'll carry you."

Without waiting for her reaction, the man had already reached out on his own to support the girl's soft legs and steadily stood up with her in his arms.

Chen Yao's lips moved as if to speak, but in the end, she didn't dare voice any objection.

Finally, she could only clench her hands, refusing to wrap them around him, and replied in a small voice, polite and distant, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Xiao Mingting frowned but said nothing more.

However, they hadn't walked far along the passage before the originally spacious area gradually began to narrow.

At some of the lower intersections, he even had to bend down slightly while holding the girl in his arms to pass through smoothly.

In the end, Chen Yao blushed and had no choice but to gently loop her arms around the man's neck, pressing her whole body against him, afraid she might hold him back.

She bit her lip, feeling that when Xiao Mingting bent over, she could clearly sense his warm breath, as if it were falling on her ear.

Until, inadvertently, a strange, damp touch brushed lightly across the bare skin at the back of her neck, making her heart skip a beat.

Chen Yao could only bury her face deeper into his chest, her apricot eyes shimmering, but she dared not say anything.

Xiao Mingting's gaze remained fixed on the path ahead, but a dark tide surged within his pitch-black eyes, so deep it seemed capable of drowning a person completely.

And so, as he walked, such seemingly inadvertent contact began to occur more and more frequently.

Until once, his lips pressed fully against the skin at the back of her neck, which had gradually flushed a delicate pink.

Chen Yao's drooping eyes snapped wide open in an instant. She felt every inch of skin he touched begin to tremble.

Almost forgetting the situation at hand, she instinctively struggled to break free from his embrace, but was easily stopped by the man raising a hand.