Luo Huaimeng looked at Yan Qing, seemingly taken by surprise. She composed herself quickly, however, and said in a cool, crisp voice, “Xiang Xiu.”

Xiang Xiu stepped forward at once. “Second Concubine.”

“Are you ill?”

“No.” Xiang Xiu shook her head quickly.

“If you’re not ill, have you lost the ability to carry a medicine bowl?” Luo Huaimeng’s words carried a veiled rebuke.

Xiang Xiu started to step forward to take the tray from Jing Zhi, but Yan Qing spoke first. “Your daughter-in-law has come to attend to Mother’s medicine.”

Luo Huaimeng did not look at her. “There’s no need. I’m used to Xiang Xiu. I don’t take well to unfamiliar hands.”

Yan Qing lifted the medicine bowl from the tray and walked to stand before Luo Huaimeng. “Mother, please take your medicine.”

“Do you not understand plain speech?” Luo Huaimeng glared at her in irritation. “I do not require you to attend to me.”

Yan Qing appeared as though she truly had not heard. She held the bowl out steadily. “Mother, please take your medicine.”

“You—” Luo Huaimeng had not expected this kind of quiet stubbornness. Meeting those clear, unwavering eyes, she was suddenly reminded of her own son — he, too, was that kind of obstinate soul who, once fixed on something, would not turn back.

The two remained locked in a standoff for some time. At last, Luo Huaimeng took the medicine bowl with a displeased huff — and promptly set it down hard on the table. “All right. You may leave.”

“Mother has not finished her medicine. I cannot go.”

Yan Qing pressed her lips together, that unhurried smile still on her face, as if Luo Huaimeng’s cold words had not touched her in the slightest.

Luo Huaimeng apparently decided that out of sight was out of mind. At those words, she picked up the medicine bowl and drained it in one swift motion. The moment the bowl was back on the table, something was held out to her lips.

“These are preserved fruits I cured myself. Please try one, Mother.”

Luo Huaimeng glanced at Yan Qing, then opened her mouth and accepted the preserved fruit.

Only then did Yan Qing set down the small silver fork she was holding with a smile. “Please rest well, Mother. I’ll come again tomorrow.”

“There is no need,” Luo Huaimeng said sharply. “Attending to my medicine is a task for the maids. There is no reason for you to meddle.”

Yan Qing’s expression did not change. “I have some knowledge of medicine. I can adjust the formula and dosage according to Mother’s condition.”

“A physician can do those same things.”

“A physician cannot be at the estate every single day. It is far more convenient for me to come.” And without waiting for Luo Huaimeng’s response, Yan Qing curtseyed. “Rest early, Mother. I will come again tomorrow.”

Luo Huaimeng watched her leave with her maid and felt a familiar frustration pressing at her chest. “What an impertinent girl. What an impertinent girl.”

Xiang Xiu stood quietly to one side and murmured, “Second Concubine, Seventh Young Mistress is only showing filial devotion.”

“I want none of it.” Luo Huaimeng said sharply. “She is only performing for Xing Zhi’s sake. I would be a fool to truly believe she has any piety toward me.”

“Second Concubine…” Xiang Xiu shrank back in fright. “I… “

“Enough. Say no more. Leave.”

“Yes.” Not daring to say another word, Xiang Xiu quickly picked up the medicine bowl and tray from the table and slipped out through the door.

~

When Yan Qing stepped inside, Shi Ting had already returned at some point and was sitting on the low couch in the master bedroom, going through an account ledger. He had already washed up, but his hair was still damp. In the lamplight, his profile appeared all the more deep and handsome, his focus lending it a particular intensity.

The sound of Yan Qing’s footsteps drew his eyes up from the ledger. He beckoned to her. “Come here.”

The moment she came close, he pulled her by the waist and settled her onto his lap. “This is Shao Lan Garden’s account ledger. I’m handing it over to you now.”

“No private savings set aside?” Yan Qing took it and smiled.

“I’m all yours. What would I need private savings for? My wife wouldn’t mistreat me, would she?”

“That’s hard to say.” Yan Qing ignored the large, lounging cat beside her and flipped through the ledger idly — only to grow more astonished with every page. “Where did you get this much money?”

“Is it a lot?”

“It is.”

“Then it’s all yours now.” He handed over his entire financial affairs without the slightest hesitation.

Yan Qing pushed him aside in mild exasperation. “Your hair isn’t even dry yet. Stop rubbing against me.”

Shi Ting gave a small sound of acknowledgment, looking rather put-upon.

The lofty, all-knowing Director Shi, whenever he wore this particular expression, always made Yan Qing feel as though she somehow owed him something. So she sighed, got up, went to the washroom to find a clean towel, and began to dry his hair for him with careful attention.

Shi Ting received her attentive care with perfect contentment, humming an unidentifiable little tune under his breath.

Once his hair was dry, he suddenly turned around and pulled her into his arms. His eyes lit with bright anticipation. “My wife, let’s go to sleep.”

“This early?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“All right then.” Before Yan Qing could even set the towel aside, she had already been swept up in his arms. She couldn’t help but let out a startled cry, “Shi Ting—”

But he bowed his head and sealed her lips with his, swallowing the rest of her words.

Because it was the bridal chamber, everything — bedding, canopy, and all — was a deep, rich red. In the lamplight, that red cast a warm flush across everything it touched, making it impossible to tell a blush from the light.

The layers of crimson gauze fell like flowing water.

A tender, lingering kiss was wrapped in warm red. Her trembling lashes were like two butterflies in flight, gently fanning their lovely wings.

The way he looked at her seemed as if he could set her alight with his gaze alone.

Yan Qing, flustered under his eyes, quickly raised a hand and covered them.

He gave a quiet laugh. “Does my wife remember our wager?”

Yan Qing heard those words and felt a rush of warmth flood her face.

“I wonder how my wife’s sportsmanship is?”

“I don’t remember.” Yan Qing turned her head, deciding to deny everything.

He laughed low. Leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Very well. Given that my wife looks as if her face is about to catch fire, I’ll let you off this once. However…”

His gaze deepened. He pressed his warm lips to hers. “My wife must remember my generosity today.”

Before Yan Qing could say a word, his lips had already found hers again. The clean scent of soap from his hair mingled with his breath and enveloped her — cool and pleasant, and threaded through with warmth without end.

The following morning, Yan Qing woke first. She opened her eyes to find Shi Ting using her pillow, still maintaining his imperious posture even in sleep.

There were clearly two pillows, yet his appeared to be nothing more than a decorative prop. The bed was wide and spacious, and yet he always had to crowd close to her.

Yan Qing glanced at the wall clock and, seeing it was still early, decided not to wake him.

In the soft, gentle light, she studied the lines of his face closely. He had long, thick brows, the outer corners tilting slightly upward, giving him a look of keen, vigorous spirit. His nose was high and straight, carrying a faint resemblance to a foreign contour. Most distinctive of all was the groove of his upper lip — slightly deeper than most.

Her fingertip came to rest lightly on his lips. Afraid of waking him, she did nothing more than graze them softly.

Having grazed them for a while without waking him, Yan Qing grew bolder. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his — soft and fleeting. She was already preparing to pull back, congratulating herself on a successful stolen kiss, when the man who had appeared to be sound asleep suddenly opened his eyes. She had no time to retreat before his assertive, possessive kiss came down without warning.

A kiss — dense, unhurried, and long — lent an extra measure of beauty to this already bright morning.

Yan Qing looked at him with an expression of pure accusation. “You were pretending to sleep.”

“I wasn’t.” Shi Ting settled back into his spot, though his arm remained wound around her waist, drawing her fully into his embrace.

“Then why did you wake up so fast?”

Shi Ting tilted his head toward her and gave a small wink. “In my sleep, I sensed someone was sneaking a kiss from me. I thought — I can’t let this little rascal get away — so I had to catch her this way.”

“And what do you intend to do with this little rascal?”

“Why, steal a kiss right back, of course.” He made as if to lean toward her — and was stopped by the hand Yan Qing pressed firmly against his chest.

“Today is the return visit to my family,” she reminded him with perfect composure. “We can’t lie in too late.”

“I know.” Shi Ting kissed her on the cheek. “I would never disregard my wife’s family face.”

Once they had gotten up and dressed, there was a knock at the door.

Before long, Yang Liu and Yang Zhi walked in.

Yan Qing looked at the two of them and paused.

Yang Liu said respectfully, “We’ve come to help Seventh Young Master wash up.”

Yan Qing glanced at Shi Ting. Shi Ting made a perfectly innocent expression.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m not accustomed to being attended to when I wash up.” Shi Ting’s voice was cold and flat. “Get out.”

Yang Liu and Yang Zhi did not move. Yang Liu pressed, “Seventh Young Master, this is what First Madam has instructed. We dare not fail to serve you.”

“This is Shao Lan Garden, not Zhuo Xin Garden.” Shi Ting was never one for smiling, and when his expression turned cold, the air around him was enough to intimidate. Yang Liu and Yang Zhi had no wish to leave — but no choice but to withdraw from the room.

The moment Yang Liu and Yang Zhi stepped out the door, a dark shape launched itself at them from the side. Both women let out startled cries, and Yang Liu sat down hard on the ground.

The dark shape halted before them, baring a set of sharp teeth and fixing them with an unfriendly stare.

“Woof. Woof.”

Yang Zhi hurried to help Yang Liu up. Both of them, white-faced, shrank back step by step.

“Nutmeg is back,” Yan Qing said, thinking of how Nutmeg usually wagged its tail at her — it was hard to reconcile that image with this fierce, snarling creature.

“Let it play for a while.” Shi Ting had no intention of stopping Nutmeg. He took Yan Qing’s hand and headed to the washroom.

Out in the courtyard, Nutmeg was chasing the sisters Yang Liu and Yang Zhi in wild circles. Their screams and shrieks were calmly and thoroughly ignored by the two people inside.