He held her from behind.

As his breath fell close, her heartbeat skipped, a strange, clinging unease leaving her dazed.

No one had ever treated her quite like this before.

She stiffened, saying coldly, “Let go.”

His breath lingered near her ear, her cheek, for a long moment. Just as she was thinking she’d hit him if he kept holding her, he finally loosened his grip on her shoulders, stepping back.

His hand found hers again instead, giving it a light, swinging tug. The motion was faint, but carried something almost like a plea.

She didn’t register that plea, but the feel of his hand around hers softened something in her all the same.

She turned her shoulder slightly away.

His face was calm as jade, his clear eyes deep as still water, his voice even. “I couldn’t help myself. Don’t be angry, Wutong.”

She frowned.

Couldn’t help himself… had she misunderstood the phrase, or did what he meant differ from what she understood?

She didn’t dwell on the words, because he asked again, insistent. “Wutong, whose do you want me to be?”

Her gaze was sharp as a blade, fixed directly on him.

She never hid her true feelings. “Mine.”

A faint light stirred in his eyes.

She continued, “Mine. But I don’t want you.”

He watched her silently, saying nothing.

She turned away, offhand. “Don’t worry, I’m not that unreasonable. As long as you behave, don’t make me angry, I’ll play with you for a few months at most. If you behave well, I’ll even help cover for you afterward.”

He followed her, voice soft. “Cover for me?”

“Right. Don’t you think it’s humiliating for a man to be held captive by a woman? Don’t you think going missing for months is hard to explain? You’re so afraid of your family… if you behave well, when you go back to the capital in a few months and your family asks what you were doing, I’ll speak up for you.

“You’ll still be that pure, untouched moon everyone adores.”

He sighed.

“Wutong, let’s talk…”

She hated talking to him more than anything.

This time, bluntly: “No.”

“My relationship with Shen Qingye isn’t what you think. I’ve explained this to you before. And I’m not afraid of my family either—just that many things are troublesome to deal with. I never wanted to invite trouble before, but…”

He paused, his voice quiet but even, his meaning entirely clear. “If someone were willing to wait for me, I wouldn’t mind inviting a little trouble.”

He tested her carefully. “There’s someone important in my heart that I want to protect.”

She said nothing.

He kept his tone gentle, careful not to startle her. “Wutong?”

Though he still held her hand, she said, “…Your private affairs aren’t my concern.”

He fell silent.

He let go of her hand.

She paused, looking down at her now-empty palm.

The mood between them turned tense.

Realizing her bluntness had hurt him somewhat, she slowly turned her face partway back toward him.

His expression was flat, unreadable. But she could tell he was upset.

She didn’t want him upset—not after how good he’d been to her tonight.

But she only knew how to fight. She didn’t know how to talk, didn’t know how to comfort anyone.

She glanced at him furtively; he glanced down at her, saying nothing.

She scratched her cheek, cleared her throat, and tried, tentative. “When did you ever explain your relationship with Shen Qingye to me? I don’t remember any of that.”

He said nothing.

He was genuinely somewhat annoyed—at her bluntness, her honesty, and at how she never seemed to catch his hints.

Part of him didn’t want to indulge her further. But he suspected that if he let this topic drop now, she might never bring up Shen Qingye again. He wanted this Wutong to come to him willingly, under the moon—which meant he’d have to ease her guard down first.

He answered, “Do you remember when a neighbor got engaged, and we went to deliver a gift? I explained to you then what an engagement meant.”

She searched her memory for that conversation.

He’d said, at the time, that an engagement was a kind of delay.

Now, his calm voice added, “My relationship with Shen Qingye is exactly that kind of delayed arrangement. She has no feelings for me, and feels guilty toward you. I told you before—I’d give her her freedom.”

She said flatly, “What does that have to do with you?”

“To you, whether you marry Shen Qingye or not should hardly matter. If she didn’t object, you’d marry her, wouldn’t you? It’s only that she doesn’t like you—that she cares more about me… You’re the moon everyone longs for, after all. Why would you force a woman to marry you?

“You’ve always been so indifferent about it. And you say there’s someone in your heart you care about, want to protect—whoever it is you’re protecting, how pitiful for them.”

“Shen Qingwu.”

Distracted, she said, “Hm?”

“If you keep speaking so carelessly, insulting the one I love, I will cut ties with you completely.”

She froze.

The tall, slender young man in black walked past her, straight into the crowd, not waiting for her. For someone as composed as him to state something so directly, she must have truly angered him.

She bit her lip.

She began to regret it: she really was hopeless with words.

She’d only meant to please him, and the more she spoke, the angrier he’d gotten. He could no longer stand being near her, and had walked off alone.

She muttered, “You’re mine… how dare you run off?”

But deep down, she felt guilty.

Wearing his clothes, she ought to remember his kindness, not just keep provoking him.

But whatever she said only ever seemed to make things worse.

She fell into confusion.

Briefly, she wondered: did he have someone he liked? She’d never heard anyone mention it.

Never mind. What business was it of hers—

The beautiful young woman trailed quietly behind the young hero, not catching up.

Zhang Xingjian had that rare, singular elegance about him.

His fine, delicate features, usually composed with a warm yet distant reserve, seemed even more pronounced tonight in his fitted attire—that sense of detachment amplified. And that cool, aloof quality, like moonlight on water, was exactly what drew women to him most.

Following behind, she’d already spotted several bold women trying to strike up conversation with him.

He looked back at her.

She kept her distance, about a zhang behind, following along. When he stopped, when women approached him, she frowned but made no move to step in and stake her claim.

Their eyes met across the flow of the crowd.

He started walking again, glancing back to find her still following.

Just not coming closer.

The next woman to approach him was a refined young lady from a noble family.

She hid her face behind a round fan, coy yet bold, letting her maid speak for her: “Young master, my lady nearly got knocked over just now—you were the one who caught her. We seem to be lost; would you be willing to escort my lady…”

In truth, he hadn’t caught anyone at all.

He’d been sulking with Shen Qingwu the entire way, and unlike her, he wasn’t the type to rush to anyone’s aid at the first sign of trouble. When would he have had the chance to save someone?

He glanced back over his shoulder, and a few paces off, there she was, watching him, eyes dark, saying nothing.

She lowered her head, fingers smoothing the tassels on her skirt where the wind had tangled them, working them straight one by one.

She didn’t like other women vying for what was hers, but she thought he was already upset with her, and worried that if she stepped in and struck these strangers, he’d only grow angrier still.

She considered herself the disreputable one here, the one stealing his time from him.

Clumsy with words, she had only brute strength to offer. Layers of gauze and skirts hid her ferocity, but couldn’t change what she was underneath.

Never mind, then.

Generously, she decided: I won’t step in tonight, won’t bother Zhang Xingjian. If I stay away, say nothing, he’ll be happier for it.

The woman beside him and her maid chattered on; he caught only fragments of it. A man as socially adept as him wouldn’t normally ignore anyone who approached him—but glancing back now at Shen Qingwu, keeping her distance, something in him softened, his mood deflating.

Look at her. Such a fool.

He walked back to her side. He said nothing, but he sensed her eyes brighten faintly at his return.

Neither of them spoke. She wondered: how could she get him to pay attention to her again?

Ahead, she spotted a commotion, a crowd pushing toward it. She decided this might help mend the precarious state of things between them, and without hesitation, grabbed his hand, pulling him along into the crowd.

A sea of people, packed in tight rows, made it impossible to see what lay at the center—only the clamor of pipes and strings reached them.

Everyone pushing in around them had no idea what the commotion even was—pure curiosity, feeding on itself, the crowd growing simply because it was already large.

She frowned.

Momentarily forgetting him, her attention shifted entirely to the spectacle she couldn’t see. Looking around, she spotted a father lifting his child onto his shoulders for a better view; she heard a gasp nearby and turned to see a man lifting the woman in front of him into his arms.

“Can you see now?” the man asked.

The woman, blushing furiously, feet off the ground, too afraid to open her eyes, pounded her fists against her lover’s shoulder. “Put me down, it’s too high, I’m scared, I don’t dare look!”

She watched the two of them flirting and bickering like that.

Something sparked in her eyes, eager to try: let her have a turn! She wasn’t afraid of heights, and she certainly wasn’t afraid of looking foolish!

She wanted to see, clearly, whatever this commotion at the center was!

She turned to look at him.

The look in her eyes was so direct, so plain, her longing and anticipation entirely unconcealed—one glance told him exactly what she wanted.

But she wouldn’t say it aloud.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance, feigning weakness. “Surely General Shen doesn’t expect me to carry her? I’m afraid I couldn’t manage it.”

Anger flared in her eyes.

He’d carried her twice already—since when couldn’t he manage it? He simply didn’t want to.

He was just being deliberately difficult tonight, finding her annoying.

When he refused, she immediately turned away, searching for another solution. Behind her, she heard him laugh—his voice always clear, his laughter like a trickling stream, brushing against her heart with a faint, sweet ache.

Her eyes went wide, her whole body freezing.

The infuriating young master behind her had, exactly as she’d hoped, wrapped his arms around her legs and lifted her clean off the ground, so she could see over the crowd to whatever was happening at the center.

Her heart went soft and warm all at once, her pulse quickening.

She looked down at him.

Her eyes met his—those handsome eyes that could look at a pig with the same tender warmth.

He said, smiling, “If Second Young Lady Shen wants to look, best hurry—this frail scholar can’t hold you up for long.”

She thought: liar.

But her mood brightened regardless, the corner of her mouth lifting, recognizing his kindness. She quickly looked up toward the source of the commotion—it turned out to be a troupe of acrobats.

The performance must have been famous; it seemed the whole town had crowded in to see it.

She pressed a hand lightly against his forehead.

He startled, surprised she’d finished looking so quickly. Had whatever spectacle drawn her attention failed to hold it?

As she wished, he set her back down on the ground. She really was unlike ordinary women—no coy pleading, no sweet words. The moment her feet touched solid ground, she turned to face him.

At such close range, she seemed almost to be throwing herself into his arms.

His breath caught faintly at her suddenly turned face.

Having bickered and argued all evening, she finally spoke. “There’s an acrobat troupe in there. Do you want to see it?”

He blinked.

“It looks interesting.”

His eyes curved.

He didn’t need to answer; she read the simple expression easily enough. Pleased with herself, she thought: I really am clever.

She was sure she could win him over!

She grabbed his shoulder.

“Wait…”

He sensed something odd in her intent, worried she meant to make him look foolish somehow—lift him up, perhaps… Fortunately, she wasn’t quite so reckless. Grabbing his shoulder, she simply used her lightness technique to leap them both straight up, away from the crowded street.

Below: “Whoa…”

The beautiful young woman, gripping the young master, vanished from sight at astonishing speed before the crowd’s eyes. The onlookers stood dumbstruck, momentarily finding this trick more entertaining than the show itself… while she, using the distance between trees and walls, carried him up onto the eaves of a nearby pavilion.

Beneath their feet, a row of red lanterns hung from the eaves, clinking softly in the wind.

The air grew cold at such heights, the wind stirring her long skirt. Her hem fluttered, hair brushing her face, the flower crown and tassels at her temples trembling, faintly disheveled.

She was so beautiful, and so wild and free.

He watched her quietly as she looked down at the acrobat troupe below, thoroughly absorbed. The crowd below cheered, and she, perched up high, clapped along.

She watched the lively scene below without looking away once.

She pointed out what she liked. “Isn’t it fun to watch?”

He watched her back, nodding faintly. “Fun.”

…It really was.

If she turned around, she’d have seen the look in his eyes—molten, uncontrolled.

Even as slow as she was, she shouldn’t have been able to miss what that look meant.

But she didn’t turn around.

He could let himself watch her, freely, for as long as he liked—

She pulled him down to sit beside her on the eaves.

Below, the acrobats performed—someone walking through fire, someone dousing themselves in flame, someone tumbling, someone swallowing swords, a young woman cradling a pipa, playing.

The ordinary bustle of human life, burning away her youth.

It wasn’t as though she’d never seen any of this before, but tonight, with someone beside her, it somehow felt different.

Performances she’d never given a second thought to before, tonight she wanted to share with him, one by one. “Do you know this? Have you seen this before?”

He smiled. “I have.”

Having enthusiastically pointed things out to him for a while, she paused, turning to look at him.

Someone as refined as carved jade, sitting there on the eaves, looked as elegant as if seated in some grand hall.

She frowned. “How would you have seen this?”

“I never saw it as a child. Once I could leave the house, I saw plenty.”

Understanding dawned on her.

The little moon once locked away at home, forbidden to go out, had grown up eventually. His easygoing nature, his sense of equality toward everyone, meant he was never truly far from the ordinary bustle of life.

The world only saw him as someone lofty, untouchable.

She’d once thought the two of them worlds apart.

But that had never really been true.

This moon… wasn’t the unreachable kind hanging distant in the sky. Cold and unfeeling as he could be, he was a moon with his own flaws and stains.

She liked that kind of person.

As he sat there composed, the person beside him shifted; the next moment, he looked up, startled, to find her settled onto his lap, arms around his neck, looking down at him.

He blinked.

She announced to him, “Zhang Yuelu, I’ve thought it through.”

“Hm?”

“Didn’t you suggest I learn to talk to people, learn from you? Actually, it’s been ages since I’ve studied, played chess. With Bo Rong gone, no one’s kept after me. I don’t want him to see me when I go back and say I’ve gone wild, learned nothing at all.

“Why don’t you teach me? Teach me to talk, teach me to read, teach me chess, teach me whatever you can teach… You’ve got nothing better to do anyway, and you can’t escape me regardless—why not give it a try?”

She recommended herself enthusiastically. “I’m not clever, but I’m always a serious student.”

He asked, “Why me? Isn’t Bo Rong your teacher?”

“I just think you’re interesting.”

He was so different from Bo Rong.

He’d given her so many experiences she’d never had before.

He’d given her beautiful clothes, whispered in her ear, held her from behind… all of it entirely new to her.

She liked it.

And what she liked, she meant to have—the young woman perched on his lap lifted her chin, declaring to him: “You have to teach me. You don’t get a choice. Whatever I say goes. You can’t refuse.”

He smiled, saying nothing.

She lowered her head.

Her hand, damp with nervous sweat, rested against his cheek; thinking he wouldn’t notice, she stroked his cheek lightly, secretly, brushing it with her fingertips.

“But I’m not entirely unreasonable. I’ll trade fairly. Didn’t I already owe you a few things—settle up later, you said? Add this to the tally too—you can still settle it all later.”

“Mm… what repayment could possibly be worth my sacrifice?”

She said, unbothered, “Any repayment is worth your sacrifice. Even if you asked me to cut myself, to cripple my own arms, I wouldn’t refuse.”

“What I want, I’ll do anything for.”

What no one had given her, she’d take for herself. Whatever price she had to pay along the way didn’t matter.

As long as she got it in the end.

As long as she received the gift she’d given herself.

He watched her, unable to look away.

Time and again, this Wutong stirred something in him he couldn’t help.

The crowd flowed on, time drifting like a tide, and he could no longer restrain himself, could no longer wait.

“Why don’t you start repaying me right now.”

She was surprised. “Hm?”

She looked down at him. “What do you want?”

His expression stayed calm. “I want you to kiss me.”

“…”

She looked thoroughly lost. He said, indifferent, “Not willing?”

Why wouldn’t she be willing?

He was just so… kissable.

And she’d been aching for days already.

She cupped his face in her hands, lowered her head, and pressed her lips to his without hesitation.

The moon hung above the willow branches, lanterns clinking softly, spread across the upturned eaves.

In the crowd below, the acrobat performance was winding down, the strains of music growing intermittent, the crowd scattering in twos and threes, drifting away.

She and he were reluctant to part.

At the first touch, a thousand sensations rose within her, what began as a light taste deepening into repeated, lingering indulgence.

Her face pressed close to his.

Unable to help herself, she rested a hand on his shoulder, fingers slipping inside his collar, gently kneading the back of his neck.

His long, pale neck flushed red beneath her touch, like clouds tinged with sunset.

She was utterly entranced.

He pushed lightly at her waist, finally bringing her back to her senses enough to stop. Dazed, she lifted her eyes to look at him, finding his gaze hazy, a shimmer of longing in his eyes.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek: control yourself, Shen Qingwu.

He caught his breath after a long moment, steadying himself. The desire lingering in his eyes as he looked at her left her startled, bewildered.

He…

He gripped her shoulders, stating his request with unusual directness. “Sleep with me.”

“…”

He said, perfectly calm, “That’s right—I mean it in the physical sense. However long you keep me in your bed, that’s how long I’ll teach you. However much attention you give me, that’s how much I’ll give you in return.

“I’m not like Bo Rong. He taught you asking nothing in return, but I want something in return. Satisfy me, and I’ll agree. You know what happens if you try to force me—if I’m unwilling, Shen Qingwu, you can’t truly force me into anything.”

She knew perfectly well that if he decided to play mind games with her, if he stubbornly refused to cooperate, she could kill him and still get nothing out of it.

But… the physical matter…

It wasn’t that she was unwilling. She simply didn’t understand.

Hadn’t he resisted before? Fought her tooth and nail? Hadn’t he always seemed so reluctant, so conflicted, every time she touched him, needing so long to think it over?

What was he doing now?

“Because of desire,” he said.

“Don’t understand.”

He spoke with unusual bluntness now.

Coldly, indifferently, he finished this startling speech: “You know that before you, I’d never been with a woman. Experiencing this for the first time, it’s only natural I’d develop a taste for it, wanting more, unable to let go.

“But my family’s discipline is extremely strict—I can’t simply take up with women as I please. You’re the only one around, and you don’t care about such things anyway. You don’t know the difficulties a man faces, don’t know the suffering of lying awake reliving it night after night. My desires run deep, impossible to root out, impossible to resolve alone—I can only ask for your help.

“Shen Qingwu, it’s up to you.”

“…”

She listened as though hearing something from a fantasy tale, hardly recognizing him at all.

She stared at him, blank, as he delivered this entire speech without a flicker of expression. Surely nothing short of being pushed to his absolute limit would make him say such things.

Looking into his eyes, she found herself starting to believe it, starting to understand—

Why he’d been so hard to read lately.

Why he’d been treating her so well recently.

Why he kept swinging between moods.

She felt a flicker of sympathy for him.

She stroked his cool cheek gently, leaning close to his ear, asking with curiosity, “Can a man really become this obsessed over something like this, unable to control himself?”

He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes. “…Yes.”

To win her love, he’d stop at nothing.