A Helping Hand (R18)

Liu Yao was used to the cunning methods of the assassins who had tried to claim his life time and time again. This was why, when he'd felt something knock against his carriage, his instinct had initially been to stay put and let Cao Mingbao and his secret guard take care of matters. But a quick peek outside the window revealed a slight figure slumped onto the ground, with blood soaking into the slate grey fabric of his servant's attire.

The attire of the Wu Estate slaves. Did he collapse here out of coincidence or was this part of a nefarious plot? Liu Yao had chosen to use the red wheel carriage for its privileges, but all it would indicate was that its owner had the rights of the imperial family. The rest of the carriage was nondescript, still keeping his real identity a secret to a certain extent. Liu Yao could just as easily be a ranked prince as one of the lesser dukes or marquesses that were his distant imperial relatives.

But then again, it was customary for officials to extend an invitation to the emperor whenever there was an important marriage in their households. And everyone knew that Liu Yao had no choice but to favour General Guo at the moment, due to the unrest in the southwest. Liu Yao's enemies didn't need to be genius tacticians to guess that he would show face at the banquet if only to display the regard the imperial family had for the Guo Family.

Was this really a new attempt on his life? Liu Yao had to admit that he was curious. He'd spent the last 2 years of his 5-year reign ruling the court with an iron fist, was someone finally fed up with him?

Making up his mind, he positioned his hand on his sword as he opened the doors of his carriage, listening for any telltale whistling of arrows in the still air. Nothing. Either there wasn't an assassination team out there waiting to catch him unawares, or his secret guard had already taken care of it.

He stepped out and onto the ground, patting the horse soothingly as his abrupt movements caused it to nicker in unease. From a distance, Cao Mingbao waddled his way over with a packet of snacks in his arms, eyes blown wide in panic as he watched his liege put himself at risk by approaching a potential assassin. Liu Yao had sent him to purchase Liu An's favourite dragon beard candy and other snacks from the night market. The ninth prince had been clingier than usual lately and Liu Yao intended to use food to coax the brat into sleeping in the adjunct quarters because he couldn't take another night of being kicked in the ribs by energetic little feet.

He pretended not to notice Cao Mingbao's dismay, walking closer to the figure on the floor to observe it better. Up close, he could smell the metallic scent of blood, which set him on edge. He tightened his grip on his weapon.

The figure's hair was in a disarray, spilling in a mess down to small hips and trailing across the dirty gravel path. From this angle, Liu Yao couldn't see his face, but he could tell that it was a boy from the flat planes and jutting angles of his willowy body. The nape of his neck was exposed, white like virgin snow under the pale moonlight, a stark contrast to the red oozing out of a knife wound in his thigh.

If this was an assassin, Liu Yao wasn't sure what technique they were intending to approach their target with. If it were seduction, then dressing up in a servant's garbs was hardly attractive. If it were aggression, it made no sense to handicap themselves first stabbing by their own body.

Perhaps it was to make him lower his guard. Liu Yao took another step forward and held out a hand, every muscle in his body tense with the prospect of a sudden attack. At the slightest hint of danger, he wouldn't hesitate to strike first—

A hand slipped into his, small and trembling. The boy looked up and Liu Yao forgot to breathe.

Large eyes that reminded Liu Yao of the doe he'd tracked last autumn during the imperial hunt glistened with unshed tears. They were bright and unfocused, with none of the intellectual acuity that had impressed him during their mid-autumn meeting. Pale pink lips gasped for air as slender fingers reached up to grip at Liu Yao's robes. The servant had also been robbed of the caution that he'd displayed in Meiyue Tower, and the memory of the way he'd looked then, lonely and distant under the lantern light in front of those painted plum blossoms, made Liu Yao's heart skip.

"Y-Young Master H-Huang—"

Liu Yao's hand tightened involuntarily, and the servant let out a soft whine. He frowned. This wasn't just simple seductive behaviour. The unnatural flush on the servant's cheeks and the way he was panting made Liu Yao suspect something more sinister.

He felt the first stirrings of anger. If someone had found out about their previous meetings and decided to use this dishonourable method to get to Liu Yao…

"Bi—Young Master!" Cao Mingbao scrambled over, chest heaving with the exertion of his sprint. His eyes widened as they landed on the servant. "It's that boy—"

For some reason, Liu Yao didn't want anyone to lay eyes on the servant when he was in this state. There was something inexplicable in him that triggered a slew of old memories and Liu Yao wanted to guard that jealously from the world. Even Cao Mingbao, his most trusted confidante, was no exception.

Bending over, Liu Yao swept the boy up into his arms, trying his best not to jostle the stab wound too much.

Cao Mingbao's jaw dropped and he stared between the boy and the snack parcels in his arms listlessly like he wanted to toss the latter away and rush forward to bear the burden on the emperor's behalf. "Please allow this old servant—"

"Not allowed. Stop wasting time and drive the carriage." Liu Yao's instructions were pinched. "I also want the Brocade Guard to submit a full report on everything that happened tonight." Ever since he'd learnt about the Wu Household's ties to Liu Wei, he'd been monitoring them, just to make sure they wouldn't be a negative influence on his choice of heir. He didn't trust the 6 old noble clans but something about the Wu Family rubbed him the wrong way. After this incident, this feeling had only heightened.

"Young Master ah, please listen to this old servant," Cao Mingbao said worriedly. "It would be amiss to bring an unknown stranger back into the p—back home—"

"Who said anything about home?" Liu Yao dismissed his concerns with uncharacteristic impatience. "Go to Gongzheng Hall."

Gongzheng—or Impartial—Hall was a famous apothecary in the southeastern district of the city, with a large congregation of common folk. Gongzheng Hall was renowned for treating every patient who sought their help, without any regard for their wealth or caste. This had earned it its stellar reputation, but few knew that this apothecary was actually one of the information collection units that belonged to the emperor and was passed down from heir to heir.

The carriage took off at a steady trot. Liu Yao shut the door in the face of Cao Mingbao's fretting and settled back into his seat with the servant boy in his arms. He tried shrugging him off but to no avail. Slender arms that looked like they would snap in his grip snaked around his shoulders and the boy buried his face in Liu Yao's neck like he was seeking out skin-to-skin contact.

"Young Master Huang," he murmured, using that ridiculous surname once more, before huffing out a low, piteous whine when his shifting aggravated his wound.

A faint sheen of sweat pooled on Liu Yao's forehead. He reached out and steadied the boy's hips, pulling them firmly away from his own. The boy made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, and Liu Yao could feel it rumbling against his collarbone.

"Stop moving, you're going to worsen your injury." He made a valiant attempt at reasoning with the boy, but it clearly fell on deaf ears. Liu Yao had no choice but to retrieve a large, black silk handkerchief tucked into his inner robes and secure it around the wound to stem the bleed.

Hands slammed themselves against the carriage on either side of Liu Yao's head, as the boy cornered Liu Yao against the back of his seat. The noise startled Cao Mingbao, who gave up all pretence and immediately shouted, "Your Majesty! Is everything okay—"

"Don't come in," Liu Yao replied harshly. "Everything is fine, just drive. Quickly."

"Y-yes, Master."

Liu Yao raised an eyebrow as he contemplated the boy in front of him. This servant didn't seem to realise how audacious he was being, eyes still glazed over with wild lust, his hooded gaze predatory as it bore into Liu Yao's face. He didn't even seem aware of the pain anymore, whatever spring medicine it was that affected him clearly taking its toll. There was none of the docile submission left and Liu Yao felt a lump forming in his throat.

"You have successfully captured this CEO's attention," the boy said, spouting some nonsense that Liu Yao couldn't understand and didn't bother to decipher. Perhaps the boy thought that he had Liu Yao cornered, but because he was unbalanced, he'd braced himself by pressing the full length of his nimble body against Liu Yao's, and it felt more like he was throwing himself into Liu Yao's arms in a wordless plea to be ravished.

Liu Yao could feel the boy's feverish heat radiating through the fabric of their clothes. He didn't miss the wet patch soaking through the front of the boy's trousers either, the cloth so thin that it left little to the imagination.

Despite the headiness of the situation, he found himself frowning. This servant was wearing too little for the chilly autumn weather.

"Stop that," Liu Yao commanded, reaching out to pull the boy into a tight hold in the hopes that he would be able to keep him still for the duration of the ride. But instead of struggling, the boy went limp in his arms, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he blinked up with helpless need. Liu Yao felt a stirring in his loins that he hadn't experienced in years, not since his days as an awkward fumbling youth and that person's death.

"Please," the boy mumbled against the sharp edge of Liu Yao's jaw, punctuating his pleas with wet desperate kisses that made it hard for Liu Yao to think. "It's so uncomfortable, please help me, I—uhn, I want—" All the previous arrogance that he'd demonstrated when he pinned Liu Yao to the carriage sides had dissipated, replaced with a subservience that tugged at the strings of Liu Yao's heart.

Liu Yao forced himself to think about the story of Liu Xia Hui, a prominent historical figure that was of eminent virtue, who had once held a woman in his lap to prevent her from freezing to death without any imputation to his morality. This was a lesson that all gentlemen could and should admire. As emperor, it was Liu Yao's duty to set the pinnacle example for his people—

Lips pressed, coy and kittenish, to the corner of Liu Yao's mouth.

All his resolve crumbled in an instant.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, even as he reached down with a shaking hand to rake up the boy's tunic and undo the ties on the front of his trousers. Liu Yao tugged them down roughly in the front, releasing the boy's hot and hard length from its constraints. It was already fully erect and wet, smearing a shiny wet slick against a slim quivering belly.

The sight left Liu Yao's mouth dry, even as a frisson of guilt ran through him. He thought of tranquil phoenix eyes, reddened at their upturned corners with desire, and he couldn't understand. This boy was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but he wasn't the first beautiful person to fight for Liu Yao's attention.

But he was the first that garnered such a visceral reaction from Liu Yao, why—

The boy mewled into his ear and all thoughts about the unobtainable past flew out of Liu Yao's head.

"Haah…!" The boy's panting grew more frenetic as Liu Yao stroked him more quickly. He was aware that he was also hard beneath his robes. It had been too long since he'd allowed himself release, and Liu Yao let out a low groan, yanking the boy close so that he could grind his arousal up against the hot, lithe body in his lap.

"Mmnh, please—" The boy rocked his hips forward eagerly. "More—"

"Got it," Liu Yao mumbled against the line of an elegant white neck. "This sov—I know what you need."

He couldn't believe that this was happening. And that Cao Mingbao was less than a zhang (1) away, able to hear as his emperor, the most venerable man under the heavens, lost himself in pleasuring a mere slave.

[If Cao Mingbao dares to so much as mention this later,] Liu Yao thought, as he gave the member in his hand another vicious tug that had the boy moaning wantonly. [He can forget about his salary for an entire year. Two years.]

Liu Yao knew he was being too rough, could see it in the tears that spilt from the corners of the servant's eyes. But he wasn't used to serving others, clumsily jerking his hand up and down and trying to guess what felt good to the servant based on the noises that were spilling from those luscious lips.

"Hn, right there," the boy murmured against Liu Yao's throat, where he'd tucked his face into the crook of Liu Yao's neck. In response, Liu Yao thumbed at the slit on the tip of his length again, and this was apparently the servant's sensitive spot because his hips bucked up against Liu Yao's touch and he came with a loud cry, white seed spilling over Liu Yao's fingers.

Liu Yao's imperial fingers. The emperor of the country had just pleasured a near stranger. He brought his hand up and stared at the thick pearly substance coating it. The carriage was small enough that a faint salty odour permeated it, and he knew that whoever cleaned it later in the imperial stables would notice the distinct scent.

The bulge in Liu Yao's trousers hadn't gone down either. He hadn't reached reprieve and the squirming bundle in his lap wasn't making things easier from the way it rubbed itself against him to try and get more friction.

With a start, Liu Yao realised that the servant was still hard.

"Want more," the boy slurred, lapping at Liu Yao's ear with ticklish small licks like he was trying to encourage or maybe even goad Liu Yao into action. He made a careless swipe at Liu Yao's hand, the one coated with his release, not seeming to notice the mess splaying between their intertwined fingers.

With a clumsy tug, the boy dragged Liu Yao's hand to the back of his trousers and slid it beneath the waistband. "Want it here," he grumbled out, bossy beyond belief for someone who was nothing more than a slave, and Liu Yao's mind blanked out at the feel of smooth, supple flesh beneath his fingers.

He squeezed unwittingly, earning himself a low, sinful moan.

With an anguished groan, Liu Yao threw his head back against the carriage seat and gritted his teeth. Perhaps Liu Xia Hui had been impotent. Liu Yao certainly was not.

"Cao Mingbao!" he yelled. "How much longer before we reach?!"