However, the old insect emperor and the other ministers were so busy discussing how to respond to the noble female insects that they completely overlooked this bizarre phenomenon.
The figure in the servant’s uniform reached out, gently gripping Tong Sui’s wrist and pulling him up from his seat. It was like a light, fluffy cloud being held in a palm.
“Hmm?”
Tong Sui was momentarily dazed, struggling to open his eyes and look at the hand that held him.
White gloves.
A servant’s outfit.
Tong Sui felt a bit disappointed; for that instant, he sensed something oddly familiar, as if… it was the Lolo he thought he knew.
Annoyed, Tong Sui tried to pull the white gloves off the hand, but his head felt so dizzy. He fumbled around, managing to grasp it, but could barely count his fingers and only vaguely touched the edge of the glove after much effort.
He wanted to take it off for verification.
“Your Highness.”
That voice was deliberately lowered, the magnetism in it penetrating his muddled mind, making his scalp tingle slightly.
It was pleasant to hear, but the tone seemed a bit different; Lolo should sound colder, not… not like it was suppressing some intense emotion that could swallow a person whole if given a slight opening.
The voice rang out again, “What do you want to do?”
Tong Sui didn’t even know what he wanted to do, he was still gripping the edge of the glove.
But how could this be possible?
He had seen Bai Xingluo at the Star Pirate group through the system’s functions, and there was no way she could appear before him so openly.
Yet he also didn’t know how to find that starship.
Tong Sui muttered softly, “Lolo… where are you?”
The tall figure in the servant uniform paused, seemingly trying to restrain something; the emotions in those eyes were rich and complex, almost solidifying into substance.
At that moment, a minister glanced over, feeling that their posture was inexplicably ambiguous.
He coughed twice in dissatisfaction, “Don’t get any weird ideas; the prince is not someone you can manipulate.”
“Yes.”
The servant lowered his head even more, making it impossible to see his face.
The minister assumed he was frightened and waved his hand impatiently, “The prince is tired; quickly help him to his room.”
“Yes.”
With that low response, another hand was added to Tong Sui’s arm, drawing him in, the position teetering between intimacy and distance.
Tong Sui felt fuzzy all over, his legs weak; he was naturally led to topple forward.
The coarse fabric of the chest brushed against his face, feeling somewhat hot.
Tong Sui huffed in dissatisfaction.
He raised his reddened eyes, wet lashes glistening, a mist clouding his gaze, seemingly silently complaining about the inadequate service.
But little did he know, such a gaze would only cause the insect beside him to swallow audibly, lowering his voice further, “Do you want to be held?”
Tong Sui struggled to understand what was being said; the hand that had been resting on his arm had now slipped to his waist.
Even through the glove and his clothing, he could still feel that hand was large, just like Lolo’s.
It seemed as if it were just waiting for him to fall silent before deciding to pick him up on its own.
A lingering part of Tong Sui’s consciousness reminded him he was not Lolo.
He randomly grabbed at something, hoping to use it for support, and heard a muffled groan from above.
It was a mix of restraint and impatience, the pain intertwined with a subtle emotion.
He suddenly realized that the fabric of the servant’s uniform had become crumpled, and he understood he had placed his hand where he shouldn’t have.
His ears burned red.
“Ah, I’m sorry! Let go of me; I can walk by myself.”
As he spoke, Tong Sui pushed him away and stumbled forward, looking like a somewhat comical snake, swaying its tail as it moved in an S-shape.
He felt the entire world swaying; his feet felt light, as if he were walking on clouds, ready to float up at any moment.
Just when he felt he was about to fall back, a strong hand caught him, sternly stating, “Your Highness, the way to the room is this way.”
With those words, his feet left the ground, and he landed in a reliable and warm embrace.
The fabric was rough, even chafing his cheek slightly with each step, but it felt particularly familiar, making him reluctant to struggle free.
The heavy, ornate door to the room opened, revealing a spacious bedroom lit by orange-yellow flames.
Tong Sui was gently placed on a red leather sofa.
The cloak on him felt unusually warm.
He reached out to pull off the ties, letting a part hang on the metallic armrest and another part slide down along the cushion, piling it onto the luxurious carpet.
Tong Sui leaned back, his dark, tousled hair sticking up haphazardly, revealing an entirely fair face.
After drinking too much, he had a thin layer of crimson tinting him, like being surrounded by a field of red spider lilies, exuding a deadly allure.
The figure didn’t leave but stood in the shadows, his gaze sharp, as if trying to swallow him into his blood and soul.
After a long while, he finally moved.
He turned to pour a glass of water, the white-gloved hand gripping the glass. His heavy footsteps upon the carpet were nearly soundless.
Tong Sui looked at the glass handed to him, instinctively furrowing his brow.
“I don’t want to drink it; it’s so bitter.”
His voice carried a hint of resistance, trailing off with a delicate lilt, unable to distinguish if the glass contained liquor or water anymore.
“It’s not alcohol.”
The glass was moved closer by those hands, now at his lips, the rim pressing against them.