The dawn of the next day did not bring relief. It brought a different phase of the torment.
The sharp, feverish heat had subsided, thanks to Xue Lian's unlikely ministrations. But in its place was a deep, throbbing ache, a persistent hum of need that settled in her bones. It was a slow, relentless tide that made every brush of fabric against her skin feel like a deliberate caress, and every quiet sound in the palace like a whisper meant solely for her.
She was profoundly aware of her own body in a way she had never been, and it was utterly distracting.
When Xue Lian arrived for their afternoon tea, Lan Yue was a tightly coiled spring. She had chosen a seat farther away than usual, her posture rigid, her responses to the Empress's usual chatter clipped and distant.
Xue Lian, to her credit, noticed immediately. She set the tray down and studied Lan Yue, her head tilted. The Empress looked refreshed, her usual sharp elegance restored, a stark contrast to the soft, nighttime caregiver of the previous evening.
"The compresses weren't enough, I take it," she said, her tone not mocking, but observant. "The second day is always worse. Less fever, more... awareness."
Lan Yue flinched at the accuracy. She kept her eyes fixed on a scroll she wasn't reading. "I am fine."
A soft, knowing hum was the only response. Xue Lian poured the tea. Today's blend had a sharper, more citrusy scent, designed to invigorate rather than calm. She pushed a cup towards Lan Yue.
"You know," Xue Lian began, her voice conversational, "in some demon clans, this isn't something to be fought. It's... acknowledged. Ridden out. There's a certain freedom in accepting the cycle instead of constantly battling it."
"That sounds like a surrender to base instinct," Lan Yue retorted, her voice tighter than she intended. "A loss of control."
"Is it?" Xue Lian mused, sipping her own tea. "Or is the constant, exhausting battle for control the real surrender? Letting it dictate your every action through denial?" She wasn't looking at Lan Yue; she was gazing out the window, seemingly philosophizing to the air. "Sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is stop fighting yourself."
The words hit a little too close to home. Lan Yue's grip on her teacup tightened. This wasn't just about her Rut. This was about everything her identity, her feelings, her captivity. It was all a battle for control she was rapidly losing.
And then, Xue Lian moved.
It was a simple thing. She reached across the table to select a pastry from the plate. As she leaned forward, a few strands of her pristine white hair slipped over her shoulder. And her scent that devastating, sweet peach and sandalwood scent wafted towards Lan Yue, amplified by her heightened senses.
It was an ambush. A wave of pure, visceral want crashed over Lan Yue so powerfully it stole her breath. Her hand, the one not clutching the teacup, twitched on the tabletop. The impulse to reach out, to bury her fingers in that white hair, to pull the Empress closer and just inhale, was so strong it was a physical pain.
Her nails dug into her own palm, a sharp counterpoint to the ache elsewhere. She stopped the movement, forcing her hand to lie still, but a faint tremor ran through her fingers.
Xue Lian froze. Her sharp eyes, missing nothing, caught the minute tremor. Her gaze flicked from Lan Yue's white knuckled hand to her face, which Lan Yue knew was flushed, to her own outstretched arm. A slow, dawning understanding and something else, something heated and curious lit in her amber eyes.
She didn't pull back. She didn't comment. She simply finished selecting her pastry and leaned back into her chair, her movement deliberately slow, almost… provocative. A faint, unreadable smile played on her lips.
The air in the library was suddenly thick enough to choke on. Every one of Lan Yue's nerves was on fire, screaming at the proximity of the one person her body had decided was the solution to its problem. The rational part of her mind, the disciple of the Azure Cloud Sect, was screaming in panic.
Xue Lian took a small, deliberate bite of her pastry, her eyes never leaving Lan Yue. She was watching, waiting, a predator who had just realized the trapped rabbit was considering chewing its own leg off to get closer.
"This is a new recipe," Xue Lian said, her voice a low, purring hum that vibrated right through Lan Yue's core. "The bakers infused the dough with crushed sun berries from the mortal realm. It's surprisingly sweet. You should try one."
She was doing it on purpose. She knew. Of course she knew. She was an Omega, even a defective one. She understood the signs, the triggers. This was a test. A cruel, delicious test.
Lan Yue wanted to throw the teacup at her. She wanted to lunge across the table. She did neither. She sat perfectly still, a statue of desperate restraint, feeling like she was unraveling from the inside out.
"I am not hungry," she forced out, the words strangled.
Xue Lian's smile widened a fraction, a flash of sharp canines. "Suit yourself." She took another bite, a picture of casual grace, while Lan Yue sat across from her, silently dying.
The rest of the tea hour passed in an agony of unspoken tension. Xue Lian made light conversation, seemingly oblivious to the storm she was stirring, while Lan Yue answered in monosyllables, every ounce of her concentration devoted to the monumental task of not moving.
When Xue Lian finally left, the release of pressure was so sudden Lan Yue slumped forward, her head in her hands, breathing heavily. Her body was trembling with the aftershocks of restraint.
The Empress hadn't touched her. She hadn't made a single overt move. Yet, Lan Yue felt more intimately assaulted than if she had. She had been seen, known, and tempted in the most fundamental way possible.
The slow burn was now a five alarm fire, and Lan Yue was trapped right in the center of the flames, desperately trying not to combust. And the most terrifying part was that a growing part of her no longer wanted to.