45 Marrying Him (2)

I instinctively pulled back, nearly tumbling off my seat as I did so from the sudden imbalance. Much to my surprise, instead of joking or offering another crude remark, he offered me a steadying hand. Straightening my posture and catching myself, I didn't take it.

The tips of his fingers hovered awkwardly, the air still.

"My sincerest apologies," he sighed, taking a step back and allowing a sizeable distance to form between us. "From your reactions that day, I thought you preferred that sort of men."

That sort of men? His constant mood shifts confounded me, and it was almost as if two entities were battling within him. One moment, he was a vain youth who seemed to be free from all typical expectations of society. Yet by the next, he would transform into the perfectly-mannered prince who was a seasoned member of the imperial court.

"Did Your Highness not enjoy the festivities?" I asked, curious as to why he returned so soon but also trying to break the awkward silence.

"Why would I waste my time out there with those people when I have such a beautiful bride here?"

Seeing my hesitation, he added, "My bride doesn't look too happy. Is there any way for your husband to put a smile to your face?" He grinned, reaching into his gown as if feigning to remove it.

I gulped, bracing myself for the worst. Instead, he took out a piece of a pastry and motioned for me to eat.

Without knowing, my stomach had been growling, and I took the biscuit and began nibbling on it.

"So, how did you like the poem I wrote for you?" A teasing gleam returned to his eyes, and he cocked his head casually to one side.

It was almost as if he was testing me to see which facet of his personality I leaned more towards. If I had known the answer myself, I would have surely spared him from all of the trouble.

"It is alright in comparison to the contemporary ones, but in relation to some classics, I fear it still needs some work," I answered truthfully while conveniently omitting the part where I sat for hours analyzing it.

Was that a look of disappointment that flashed across his face?

"I'll write better ones for you in the future." He paused, flipping the fan back and forth between his hands before motioning to toss it into the candle flame. "This unseemly draft is better suited for firewood. It had only taken me ten minutes to write after all."

Seeing such a work of art go to waste, I snatched it back from him with no second thoughts. "Prince of Jin, a gift is a gift." Examining the silk fan, I found the edge to be a bit charred, but luckily, none of the words were burnt. If anything, the slight singing added a strange beauty of grace under danger to the fan's before-simple design.

I looked up to find him grinning like a child, his previous mask of both exaggerated haughtiness and feigned sophistication peeling off as his toothy smile lit up the room. It wasn't a purposeful one plastered on to please anyone, the joy being contagious in a sort of way that led my lips to curve upwards uncontrollably.

Yet when his eyes collided with mine, he retracted his emotions once more, hiding the fact that he was undoubtedly pleased by my actions.

"When there is no one around, you can still call me Ying." He stated matter-of-factly, a serious expression replacing the whimsy, in turn leading me to think that the previous moment was all a product of my imagination.

"Well, well, what about A'Mo?" I asked, knowing very well the significance of his nickname. The humorous meaning behind it was surely able to break the awkwardness and to better help me gauge the limits of our interaction.

Sure enough, my plan worked, and the playful expression reappeared. Around him, I too felt like I was playing to two extremes, painting shadowy personas for myself where I no longer knew who the true me was anymore.

"Is that even a question? Have you not seen how handsome I am?" He motioned to his face with his robes, making sure to flaunt his sturdy build in the process. "Mother once—Mother Empress once said that she thought me to be the Buddha's principle!"

A'Mo was the name given to the Buddha's female disciple, so I could only imagine that his mother thought he was a girl when he was first born.

"It's not good to hide the details!" I smirked, seeing that my attempt to cheer him up worked. Seriously, behind all of his disguise, he was actually a child at heart. "It's time to confess. Judging from your nickname, your parents certainly thought that you were a daughter. Sure, you were pretty. But you were pretty like a perfectly dolled up baby girl!"

"I was not!" He pouted, his mouth gaping as he tried to make an excuse. No sound came out, and I found him deep in thought once more. I must have made it too obvious. Judging from his conflicted emotions, he surely realized that I knew the meaning and was just toying with him.

Strangely unsettled, he stood up and began pacing again. Round and round he went, casting glances at the shifting shadows outside every once in a while. Sometimes, he paused to listen to the continued shouts of revelry. Or perchance he was listening for any unknown audience lurking around the yurt.

He finally stopped in front of me.

"Can I trust you?"

Subconsciously, something inside me willed me to nod. Perhaps it was the knowledge that I was to be bound to him until death. Or maybe it was the awareness of how this marriage was much more than a simple union between two people. Behind him was the Sui, and the weight of Liang's survival rested on my back.

He moved slowly, waiting for another nod of my approval before closing the gap further.

"You're a smart one, somehow seeing through most of my guises." He reached out and gently caressed my cheeks. "True love doesn't exist in the royal family, but it seems as if we are the perfect match for partnership."

He leaned in as if to kiss me, instead stopping short at eye level.

"Help me put on my act."