This kiss came completely unexpectedly.

Only now did Xie Queshan realize he had thought things too simply—being unable to lie was actually a curse.

A curse that required him to dig out with his own hands a true heart from a pile of unbearable flesh and blood, one he had never even seen himself. But he had no such experience.

He wanted her close, yet didn’t want her too close—where in the world could things be so perfectly convenient? She had already grown fangs under his care, donned armor, baring her teeth and claws, penetrating every opening.

He, on the other hand, was like a clumsy child—unable, unknowing, simply giving up in desperation.

This kiss meant to cover up had become his final wall of defense.

While Nanyi violently resisted, they continued kissing, lips and teeth tearing at each other, refusing to admit defeat, refusing to yield. Each harbored their own thoughts, yet remained inseparable.

In their movements, they knocked over a nearby flower vase, the porcelain vessel crashing to the ground. At this moment he finally caught her hands, forcibly squeezing his fingers between hers, clasping her hands tightly.

Almost stubbornly, he wanted to prove her palms were empty.

He released her lips, pressing against her forehead as he panted. This tug-of-war could finally end temporarily because of her foul play.

A moment of quiet settled between them.

Nanyi was in a daze. She actually found this kiss strange—no demand, no tenderness, but rather a near-pleading cessation. He blocked the words that kept bursting from her mouth, again and again, until finally her chest felt hollow and empty, unable to ask anything more.

Only then did she catch the faint scent of blood on him. At such close distance, this smell was amplified, and she suddenly realized he must have endured a very difficult day.

He must be exhausted too.

She looked up at him. He seemed unsure how to end this scene, slowly stepping back one step, then two, guiltily looking at the mess on the floor.

Red apricot blossoms, white porcelain, shattered together.

She didn’t know why, but she felt a bit sad.

Earlier, while waiting by the window, she had wondered why he had suddenly placed a flowering branch in his room—it wasn’t his style. But she thought it was wonderful, spring had finally reached him.

She crouched down, still wanting to salvage that branch. Lifting the stem, she found the petals were broken, soaked by water and scattered on the ground, impossible to gather up.

He grew increasingly agitated, finally speaking: “I’ll clean it up. You go back.”

Nanyi didn’t listen to him, gathering the white porcelain pieces to one side on her own, then patiently picking up the scattered flower petals one by one.

She stopped asking, stopped pressing him, but she simply didn’t want this touch of brightness to be carelessly erased.

“It’s all broken like this—what’s the use of picking it up?”

“I like it. Don’t mind me,” she replied in a muffled voice.

Xie Queshan pulled her away: “I told you it’s not necessary—don’t do anything—go.”

She looked at him stubbornly: “Let’s go pick another branch.”

They were talking at cross purposes.

After quietly facing off for several seconds, when he didn’t move, Nanyi went out the door herself.

Xie Queshan sighed. She rarely acted stubborn in front of him, especially over something as trivial as a flowering branch. Yet he vaguely understood what she was being stubborn about.

She was so good it made one’s heart soften.

His feet followed her out after all.

Outside the door in the small courtyard was a low wall, beyond which lay a garden with several flower-laden branches extending over. Under the moonlight, they rested quietly against the wall.

He saw her standing beneath the wall, stretching on tiptoe to break off a branch, still unable to reach.

He unprincipledly indulged her again, stepping forward and naturally embracing her calves, lifting her entire body up.

Nanyi cried out softly in surprise. The sensation of weightlessness made her instinctively close her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was surrounded by flowering branches.

She stiffly half-leaned against Xie Queshan. This high position made her feel dangerous, but when she tried to move, he held her very steadily, very safely.

She reached out to touch the flowering branch, and inexplicably a smile bloomed on her face.

Behind her was the dark night, before her was spring. In this moment, she couldn’t quite remember what night this was.

She allowed herself to forget in this moment—forget the turbulent waves outside, forget the disconnect between their hearts and words, forget those obscure constraints.

They were both thieves, stealing a moment of beauty from this spring night. Something that couldn’t be shared with others, beauty that belonged only to them.

She didn’t break off the branch, but instead shook the thick stem, causing petals to flutter down like snow, landing in her hair and on her clothes.

The overwhelming floral fragrance carried a hint of rawness, like unformed sweetness.

She laughed, looking down to ask: “Xie Chao’en, is it beautiful?”

He looked up, as if watching the flowers, as if watching her.

“Mm,” he answered.

Together they had escaped into the world’s smallest Peach Blossom Spring, where spring rained down just for the two of them.

He set her down, her soft arms draped over his shoulders.

As if possessed by spirits, she cupped his face, examining it inch by inch carefully. He was truly handsome—a verse from a yuefu poem she had memorized said, “Stones piled like jade, pines arranged like emerald; his beauty is matchless, unequaled in the world.” Using this to describe such a face was not excessive at all. Such a handsome man would surely be loved by many people—how had she gotten such a tremendous bargain?

Oh, it must be because he was too fierce, his eyes always seeming like freshly kneaded ink, wanting to grind everything they touched into the darkness of night.

But at this moment his eyes held light, flowers, and her.

She seemed to see through him, yet had never truly seen through him. How had he walked through those dark nights to arrive here? How many secrets did he have that could only be hidden in darkness?

She gave up, allowing that darkness to swallow her. Tenderness was good too—then let there be tenderness.

She closed her eyes and gently pressed a kiss to his lips.

In that instant, it was like fireworks and silver flowers, like a hundred rivers flowing to the sea, like three souls and seven spirits rushing to the clouds before instantly returning to their places.

The world seemed to collapse with a thunderous roar. He stood in the ruins, waiting for destruction, waiting for arrival.

She had opened a door.

His emotions and desires lay piled there chaotically, covered in dust and grime, and then she walked in. Every step awakened the pain he had deliberately hidden in the past. Her arrival was clearly a kind of harm, yet he could only drink poison to quench his thirst, accepting it sweetly. He was in so much pain—so much pain that he could no longer bear it alone—only then did he realize he was just a fragile paper shell, mortal flesh and mortal body.

So he held her tightly, as if holding the only piece of driftwood while floating in this world. They kissed without method, like two naive beasts entangled, clumsily expressing acceptance.

From the courtyard to the room, sinking onto the bed.

The table was pushed to the floor, making noise, along with who knows what else, unromantically creating a racket.

She was sometimes lucid, sometimes muddled, unable to quite remember how things had come to this—everything was sudden yet so natural.

What was love in this world? She had not yet understood it, but was using one difficult question to cover another.

It turned out she was also escaping. She only pressed him for answers, but hadn’t prepared to bear the consequences of those results. Why did she have to know what kind of person he was? And what would happen after she knew?

The answer flickered in and out of view, but now was not a good time for contemplation.

She felt joy, though she didn’t know why she felt joy. She wanted to be closer to him, even closer. Approaching the flame, she was melting and burning, this never-before-experienced sensation nearly driving her mad. Time became a river that couldn’t flow, and they sank together into some blurred boundary.

After all, this was an airtight box containing him and her, after all, no one would know.

Oh… wind.

She felt the wind creeping in from outside the door and said hazily: “Close the door…”

“No one will come…” He brushed off her words, hardly able to attend to such trivial details.

But some unease unique to the unlucky crept inappropriately into Nanyi’s mind, and as if possessed, she opened her eyes to look.

Xie Queshan suddenly felt Nanyi push him forcefully. He paid no attention, grabbing her wrist to stop her movement. She grew anxious, suddenly kicking him hard and forcibly kicking him off.

Xie Queshan sat on the floor with a thud, stunned.

He first saw the mortified expression on Nanyi’s face, then followed her gaze to look back. At the doorway stood Madam Gantang, her mouth agape in surprise, as if she had swallowed a hundred eggs.

He sat somewhat comically on the floor, his brain unable to process what was happening.

All three people present were utterly mortified.

…

An incense stick’s time earlier, Madam Gantang had heard that Xie Queshan had returned to the mansion. Originally, with the night already deep, there was little movement between courtyards, but Madam Gantang thought it over—she might not be able to catch him another day, so she should take advantage of this quiet time to discuss some private matters with him.

To discuss Nanyi’s situation.

These past few days she had heard some gossip circulating in the mansion. She naturally didn’t believe those scandalous rumors, but she thought it possible that Xie Queshan, being at odds with Zhang Yuehui, was secretly scheming to prevent Nanyi from remarrying. So firstly, she wanted to remind Xie Queshan to watch his words and actions and not give others ammunition, and secondly, she wanted him to agree to Nanyi’s remarriage and not sabotage things behind the scenes.

Instead, she witnessed this shocking scene.

She suspected she had made a mistake, and not knowing what she was thinking, she comically turned and walked several steps away, then looked back again.

It was still the same scene.

She wanted to flee—this exceeded her ability to handle.

Her steps became disordered, she stumbled, and hurried toward the exit. At the courtyard gate, Tang Rong was waiting for her. Seeing her unsteady steps, he kindly reached out to steady her.

The man’s burning palm touched her arm—this would normally be ordinary, but Madam Gantang at this moment felt it was utterly improper, immediately recoiling as if she’d seen a ghost, even backing away several steps.

Tang Rong’s hand froze in midair, not knowing what had happened.

“Madam, what’s wrong?” Tang Rong’s gaze naturally turned toward Xie Queshan’s residence.

“Leave.” Madam Gantang’s face was deathly pale, her composure lost, and she left the place at nearly a run.

—

Nanyi was even considering fleeing in the night. She was overwhelmed with shame, not knowing how to conduct herself in Wangxue Wu or how to face Madam Gantang.

She had truly been bewitched, her mind clouded by beauty. Now that she had come to her senses, she regretted it so much her intestines turned green.

But Xie Queshan told her that since it had been seen, what else could be done? They should just pretend nothing had happened.

True to his word, the panic had already left his face, and he even helped Nanyi straighten her clothing, thoughtfully asking if she wanted him to escort her back. This person—did he never feel shame?

Nanyi declined his kind offer, swearing that for a very long time in the future, she didn’t want to appear together with him. She scrambled over the wall back to her own courtyard, anxiously waiting until dawn. When a maid invited her for breakfast, she carefully observed the person’s expression and found nothing unusual. It seemed no one knew yet…

She wanted to claim illness, but still steeled herself to go. The dining hall was normal as always, lively and warm with steam rising from the food.

No one paid attention to her either. Nanyi hid in a corner wanting to quickly finish eating, but then Xie Queshan entered the dining hall right after.

She immediately stiffened in place, sitting on pins and needles, feeling as if the soft meat buns had become hard as rocks and the smooth white porridge had turned to paste—everything became unappetizing.

Madam Gantang glanced at Xie Queshan, her expression instantly darkening. After a night of contemplation, she had worked out a possibility in her mind.

How could such an outrageous thing happen without Xie Queshan taking the initiative!

Perhaps Xie Queshan had even forced her.

She kicked his stool and said: “There’s no breakfast prepared for you.”

Xie Queshan: “…”

Everyone was somewhat taken aback, not understanding why Madam Gantang was showing Xie Queshan such a cold face so early in the morning.

Xie Queshan smiled sheepishly, rarely showing such good temper.

“Fine, Second Sister, then I’ll go eat at the government office.”

Amazingly, in such a small dining hall, the gazes of these three people all artfully avoided each other.