The Prime Minister Knows How to Handle Her Wife (ABO, GL) - Chapter 37

Chapter 37

“Hmm?”

A lazy breath lingered by the ear.

Sheng Shiyue didn’t know how to respond, as the other person had already given the best answer, and she was just being mischievous.

Her calf wrapped around again, this time with a hint of flattery. Her toes slid down from the ankle bone, tapping lightly on the slightly curved instep, splitting the light spots on it into two, like intertwined vine tattoos.

Sheng Shiyue wanted to continue downward, but the other person bent their leg, trapping her mischievous calf in the middle.

Sheng Shiyue tilted her head and laughed, her eyes holding a spring breeze, full of pride. She said, “So you really are ticklish.”

This was how she proved it. Ning Qingge didn’t know what to say about her and simply closed her eyes.

She was indeed a bit tired. Last night, heavy worries kept her awake, and after getting up early to handle palace affairs, she was exhausted. If she kept pushing herself without lying down, it might have been fine. But now, with Sheng Shiyue in her arms, both of them sinking into soft bedding, the ice basin in the corner chasing away the heat, the comfort made drowsiness creep in uncontrollably.

But the little troublemaker opposite her wouldn’t stop. She tilted her head again, pressing against Ning Qingge’s lips, not rushing upward but slowly brushing her soft red lips over them. Her moist tongue lightly licked below the lip line, curling with a flick, as if savoring something delicious.

Ning Qingge didn’t hurry to stop her, curious to see what this troublemaker would do next.

Sheng Shiyue shifted upward slightly, her trapped calf unconsciously pressing harder, stepping on the other’s instep for leverage.

From chin to thin lips, she kissed like a dragonfly skimming water. The little princess seemed to be playing an amusing game, continuing slowly, nibbling gently on Ning Qingge’s nose tip before letting go, then tilting her head to blow on her eyelashes.

Her thick, curled lashes swayed like dandelions that couldn’t fly away, trembling in the breeze.

A strange ticklish sensation spread.

The other person kept up her mischief, whether intentional or not, pressing against Ning Qingge’s eyelids, brushing her lips lightly before pulling back, repeating the motion. Occasionally, her tongue would touch briefly, leaving a wet trace before retreating quickly.

Loose strands of hair slid across Ning Qingge’s cheeks and neck, as troublesome as their owner, never stopping their chaos.

The hand resting on the back of Sheng Shiyue’s head slid down, unintentionally brushing her waist.

Sheng Shiyue let out a muffled laugh and said, “Ning Qingge, I’m ticklish.”

She didn’t mention her own mischief but protested the moment someone else touched her lightly, as if she’d never seen such a stingy person.

Ning Qingge finally spoke lazily, “What are you doing?”

Her eyes remained closed, unable to see the other’s expression, but she could feel her smiling.

“Comforting you,” Sheng Shiyue replied boldly, as if she were truly doing just that.

This reminded Ning Qingge of a lion cat in the harem, apologizing by pushing its favorite yarn ball and pawing at its owner’s leg, then sitting proudly as if saying, “I’ve played your favorite game, so hurry up and forgive me.”

The teasing continued, with tiny kisses landing on her forehead, then tracing downward along the earlier path.

The calf that had crept up followed downward, the toes drawing a straight line on smooth skin.

Their clothes grew messy from the friction, the open collar revealing a flat collarbone, rising and falling with each breath.

Sheng Shiyue’s gaze drifted downward unintentionally, then she pressed against Ning Qingge’s lips, chuckling, “Ning Qingge, were you in such a hurry this morning? It seems you wore my undergarment by mistake.”

Her bold personality favored bright red robes, even for her undergarments, which were red with golden peony threads. But Ning Qingge preferred elegance, often choosing light bamboo or orchid patterns, a stark contrast.

Yet Sheng Shiyue had just glimpsed a flash of red beneath the clothes, so she teased her about the mistake.

But Ning Qingge calmly replied, “I didn’t wear it wrong.”

Had she seen it wrong?

Sheng Shiyue frowned in doubt and looked again.

It was indeed red silk.

She furrowed her brow and tugged at the other’s clothes.

The loose inner garment was pulled open, revealing half of a gracefully curved shoulder and neck. But the other person wasn’t paying attention to that, too busy arguing over a trivial matter.

“It’s red…” Sheng Shiyue blinked, not doubting Ning Qingge but questioning herself.

“Ning Qingge, did I hit my head too hard? It’s red.”

She looked at the other person in confusion, still clutching Ning Qingge’s clothes.

“It’s red,” Ning Qingge answered without looking, her voice growing clearer as eight-tenths of her sleepiness was worn away by this troublemaker.

“Huh?” Sheng Shiyue grew even more confused.

Ning Qingge then explained, “Seeing how good it looks on Your Highness, I wanted to try it too.”

“Oh?” Sheng Shiyue paused, then realized, “Oh!”

She remembered to pull the clothes back, her flustered fingertips brushing over the thin fabric, touching a soft curve. The red fabric seemed to catch fire, burning her fingertips.

Sheng Shiyue curled her fingers, pressing them into her palm.

The usually quiet person suddenly spoke, “Does it look good?”

Sheng Shiyue froze, then stammered, “It, it looks good.”

Ning Qingge’s fair skin and graceful figure made even the overly vibrant color look harmonious on her, like a touch of pink on a lotus petal, adding softness and charm.

She asked again, “Do you like it?”

The bold girl shrank back, mumbling, “It’s, it’s alright.”

Ning Qingge finally opened her eyes, her clear, autumn-water-like gaze piercing. She asked, “Alright means you like it or not?”

She insisted on an answer.

Sheng Shiyue’s eyes darted away, landing on the other’s shoulder and neck. The hastily pulled-up clothes didn’t fully close, faintly revealing a hint of color.

The ears under her hair turned completely red.

The first time was drunken, the second in darkness, but this time, in the bright afternoon, everything was clear.

Sheng Shiyue felt embarrassed, her voice growing softer, barely managing, “I like it.”

“Are you happy?”

“Happy…” Sheng Shiyue didn’t even dare look at her.

To make the usually elegant, color-shy prime minister wear such an undergarment for her—how could Sheng Shiyue not be happy?

Ning Qingge patiently continued, “Your Highness, comforting someone means doing things they like and that make them happy.”

How did it suddenly turn into a lesson?

Sheng Shiyue didn’t catch on. She was the one initiating, yet it felt like Ning Qingge was leading her by the nose.

Ning Qingge ignored her confusion and gently coaxed, “If Your Highness wants to comfort someone, shouldn’t you do things I like and that make me happy?”

“It seems so…” Sheng Shiyue couldn’t find the flaw and followed along.

Her blue-tinged eyes were clear and pure, like a deer unaware it was stepping into a trap.

The prime minister, who had suppressed her temper repeatedly, finally felt a spark of irritation after being teased and woken from her drowsiness. She decided to teach the spoiled troublemaker a lesson.

She slightly tightened her hold on Sheng Shiyue and asked, “Is your head still dizzy?”

“It’s, it’s alright. The doctor said it’s just a surface injury and a slight concussion. Avoid riding horses or shaking, and rest for a while.”

Sheng Shiyue couldn’t help but complain, “I can’t even lie in a rocking chair. It’s so annoying.”

Ning Qingge said, “Hmm,” then added, “So you can’t move around?”

The slow-witted girl finally caught on a bit. Smelling the familiar sweet lychee scent, she quickly backed away, stammering, “You, you, I’m still injured.”

Sheng Shiyue emphasized each word, “I can’t move around.”

“Then don’t move,” Ning Qingge suddenly smiled, her beautiful eyes shimmering, radiating a lazy charm.

“I, no, it won’t do,” the girl who’d fallen into her own trap struggled desperately.

Cool fingertips pinched Sheng Shiyue’s earlobe, the calloused pads rubbing the soft flesh.

She said softly, “Your Highness teased for so long, and now you say it won’t do?”

Before Sheng Shiyue could reply, she added, “Didn’t you want to comfort me?”

She grabbed Sheng Shiyue’s wrist and pulled it downward.

Sheng Shiyue wasn’t as inexperienced as last time. As her hand landed, she touched an indescribable dampness, the result of her earlier teasing in Ning Qingge’s arms.

The sweet, cloying lychee scent filled the room again, wrapping around Sheng Shiyue’s ankles, enveloping her entirely.

“Shouldn’t Your Highness take responsibility for this?”

“Hmm?” A breath laced with desire lingered by her ear.

Sheng Shiyue trembled, looking at her pitifully, as if pleading for mercy.

But the trick didn’t work after being used too much. Ning Qingge ignored her, only slightly rising and lifting the thin blanket.

Outside, a strong wind blew, bringing no coolness but bending trees and flowers. The lotus pond rippled, and in a blink, only one flower bud remained.

People hiding indoors cursed the unbearable weather but reluctantly got up to face long-delayed tasks.

The room remained quiet, undisturbed, the ice basin in the corner half-melted. Heat slipped through the window cracks, seeping into the room.

Sheng Shiyue was pushed to lie flat on the bed.

She said she couldn’t move, so the other thoughtfully switched to another way.

The person kneeling on the bed changed to another, not as upright as Sheng Shiyue. One hand pressed back on the thin blanket, her slender waist slightly bent, fragile like a flower stem that could snap with a pinch, trembling with the other’s movements.

Sheng Shiyue couldn’t see ahead, everything blocked, only feeling the liquid on her nose and lips.

The other person knew how to punish. Since Sheng Shiyue liked to nibble, she’d let her kiss to her heart’s content.

Sheng Shiyue’s breathing grew erratic, wanting to speak but blocked, instinctively tilting her head, pressing closer unintentionally.

Ning Qingge’s legs trembled, her hand threading into the other’s hair, pulling slightly, warning hoarsely, “Slow down.”

The carefully tended hair was soft, usually smooth to the touch, but now it felt prickly, the messy ends like tiny needles on delicate skin, slightly painful.

Ning Qingge frowned, but the next moment, an indescribable sensation stole all her thoughts. Her knees slid sideways, nearly falling.

“Mmph…” Sheng Shiyue let out a muffled hum, grabbing the other’s waist, managing only after a while, “Ning Qingge, it’s stifling…”

Her voice was muffled, mixed with swallowing sounds, like a fish drowning in a lake.

The usually considerate person didn’t get up immediately, instead sinking further with each breath.

Sheng Shiyue hummed again, her eyes tinged with faint peach-pink, water droplets falling from her long lashes, sliding down her cheeks, leaving dark marks on the pillow.

The ice basin in the corner was just a basin of water now, small ice chunks swaying like boats hitting the copper walls, making a crisp sound.

Outside, after the crabapple flowers wilted, someone brought new flowers, an ordinary kind but vibrant when blooming, clustered together, making it hard to choose which to admire.

A servant, gauging the time, brought new ice but changed expression before reaching the door, fleeing in a panic.

The courtyard gate was closed, and no one dared disturb, even passing servants hurrying by.

“Sheng Jiu,” Ning Qingge called, her voice short and strained despite the two words.

She grabbed the bed curtain, the hanging incense ball swaying from the impact. But Ning Qingge didn’t care, the thin gauze crumpled with creases, her sweat-covered hand showing raised veins.

“Sheng Jiu…” she called again, her voice restrained yet breathless, as if stopping or urging.

A tearing sound followed as the bed curtain was ripped down.

Sheng Shiyue instinctively turned to look, but her lips slid across a spot, and the red cloth she’d said she liked fell, covering her entire view.

Time passed quickly. The red sun, once high, gradually sank, disappearing behind the mountains, leaving a red glow as proof of its presence.

Bianjing grew lively, children from school running and playing, an old sugar-blower watching with a smile.

Various stalls were quietly set up, mansion kitchens lit, servants bustling with prepared ingredients. But Sheng Shiyue, likely full from “drinking,” couldn’t eat dinner.

As the last ice melted, the room grew hotter, filled with lychee scent.

Sheng Shiyue, initially clumsy, didn’t grasp the knack at first but later tasted the sweetness, becoming excessive, even holding the other’s waist to keep her close, not letting her move an inch.

Her pale face flushed red, water stains covering her face, some slipping from her lips. She pulled off the red cloth over her eyes, but as she opened them, a hand covered them, refusing to let her see.

Sheng Shiyue, annoyed, pressed closer defiantly, her sharp teeth lightly biting a spot.

The person above paused, then trembled suddenly, collapsing backward, unable to hold on.

The bed creaked, the thin blanket falling to the floor.

Sheng Shiyue held the person in her arms, muttering after a while, “Lord Ning, is this comforting enough?”

Ning Qingge’s breathing was heavy and uneven, silent for a long time, her ears ringing, sweat-soaked hair sticking to her cheeks, a bit disheveled.

Seeing this, Sheng Shiyue didn’t stop considerately. With some hidden intent, she hummed, “Ning Qingge, the bandage on my head is soaked.”

Ning Qingge lifted her eyes, blocking the chattering mouth with her hand, scolding, “Noisy.”

It was the first time she was so harsh with Sheng Shiyue, but Sheng Shiyue wasn’t angry. She blinked, glancing at the other’s bl00d-red earlobes.

The phrase “angry from embarrassment” flashed in her mind.

Sheng Shiyue suddenly smiled, her tongue and teeth filled with rich lychee flavor, as if she’d truly tasted the sweetness, feeling unsatisfied and wanting more…