The River Dragon Demanded a Husband, So the Scholar Stepped Forward novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Eleven Hundred Years Without Breakfast

Steward Bo fussed, Liyan ate porridge, and the dragon who had not eaten in four hundred years took one spoonful from his bowl and closed his eyes; then Liyan saw a single black hair among the silver and watched him hide it.

Liyan woke to a small, stooped old man standing at the end of the bed with a tray.

"Good morning, young master," the old man said. "I am Bo, the steward."

"You slept through the second bell. That is allowed, once."

He had long white whiskers that drooped on either side of his mouth, a blue robe, and a huge ring of keys.

His eyes were round and bulging, and they did not blink often enough.

"Bo is a carp," said Bo, who had noticed the stare. "Six hundred and twelve years old. Don't take it personally."

Liyan sat up and tried to flatten his hair.

"I'm not used to being served."

"You will get used to it or you will starve. His Majesty has no idea what a person eats."

The tray held a bowl of rice porridge and a dish of pickled mustard greens.

Beside them sat a boiled egg with a face drawn on it in soy sauce.

Liyan looked at the egg.

"His Majesty drew it," Bo said, as if confessing to a crime.

"He was up at dawn, asking what a scholar's breakfast is."

"Nobody in this palace has cooked a thing in four hundred years, so I had to teach the kitchen carp."

"The king doesn't eat?"

"Not for four hundred years. He sips river water and calls it a meal."

Bo's whiskers twitched.

"He is eleven hundred and forty years old," he went on, lower, "and I'll tell you the truth, because someone ought to."

"He has never touched another soul. Not a hand. Not a sleeve."

"He doesn't know where to put his own arms."

Liyan was glad of the porridge, because it gave him somewhere to look.

He himself was twenty-three, he had never kissed anyone, and he was a virgin.

A village of rice farmers had no use for a poor teacher with ink on his fingers.

He had never minded much until now.

"I'm no better," he said into the bowl.

"You'll do," said Bo.

The porridge was good, salty and hot, with ginger.

He had eaten half of it when a shadow filled the doorway.

Mingjue stood there in a fresh white and sea-green robe.

His silver hair was combed back so smoothly it must have taken a long time.

"Bo."

"Your Majesty." Bo bowed to the floor, whiskers and all. "I will be in the kitchen, doing nothing, for as long as it takes."

He left.

The silence after him was awkward.

"You are eating," Mingjue said.

"It's very good. Thank you for the egg."

"Is the face correct?"

"It has two eyes and a mouth."

"That was the aim." Mingjue shifted, enormous in the doorway, and looked at the porridge. "What does it taste like?"

"Rice. Ginger. Salt."

"I have not eaten in four hundred years," Mingjue said.

"I stopped when it stopped tasting of anything."

Liyan held out the spoon before he could stop himself.

It was a stupid thing to do.

The dragon looked at the spoon as though it might burn him.

Then he came across the room and stood by the bed.

He bent down, with a care that made Liyan's stomach tighten, and took the spoon into his mouth.

For a long moment he did not move.

Then his eyes closed, and his silver lashes lay against his cheek, and a soft, shaken breath went out of him.

"Salt," he said, very low. "It is warm."

"Yes."

"It is *warm*."

He opened his eyes.

They were wet.

He seemed not to know it, and Liyan decided firmly not to tell him.

"There's more," Liyan said hoarsely. "Sit down."

Mingjue sat on the edge of the enormous bed.

Liyan fed him four more spoonfuls.

He tried not to look at the dragon's mouth while he did it, and failed.

After the bowl was empty, Mingjue put his big hands on his knees, then took them off, then put them back.

"Bo says the robe for today is blue," he said at last.

"He says you should wear it, and that I should help with the collar, because it takes a particular knot."

"He said it in a voice I did not like."

The robe lay folded on the chair.

It was deep teal silk, finer than anything Liyan had ever worn.

He put it on, and his clumsy hands could not make the collar knot go.

"Allow me," Mingjue said.

He stepped in close.

His fingers were cold at Liyan's throat, long and careful, and they worked the knot with the same total attention he had given the spoon.

His knuckles brushed the hollow below Liyan's ear.

Liyan held perfectly still.

He could feel his own pulse beating against those cool fingers, and he was certain the dragon could feel it too.

"There," Mingjue said. His voice sounded odd. "It is done."

He stepped back so fast he nearly knocked over the lamp.

"I will be in the library," he said. "I have a library. You may use it. I have not."

He found the king in the great hall an hour later, standing in front of a tall bronze mirror that Liyan had not noticed before.

Mingjue was holding something very small between two fingers.

It was one long hair, as black as ink.

He looked at it for a long time, with an expression Liyan could not read.

Then he slipped it into his sleeve and walked away, and he did not see the scholar standing in the shadows by the pillar.

Liyan remembered every strand on that head being silver.

← Chapter 2 · All chapters · Chapter 4 →

Want to keep talking to characters like these? Chat with AI romance characters: AI Boyfriend · AI Girlfriend · Dark Romance · Fantasy Romance · BL (Boys’ Love) · Billionaire Boyfriend · Mafia Boyfriend · Possessive Boyfriend · Hockey Boyfriend · Older Boyfriend · K-Drama Boyfriend · Anime Boyfriend · Vampire Boyfriend · Werewolf Boyfriend · Demon Boyfriend · Fae Romance · GL (Girls’ Love) · Anime Girlfriend · Goth & Alt Girlfriend · Gamer Girlfriend · Tsundere Girlfriend · Fantasy Girlfriend