If talking wouldn’t do it, then action would have to.

Alone in the dark, climbing onto his bed—even a fool would know she had no other purpose in mind.

Shen Qingwu let go of what Zhang Xingjian called her “strained voice”; she went cold and silent, and made up her mind. She leaned down to kiss him, brisk and decisive, giving him time to brace himself.

Shen Qingwu’s affection had always been enough to make Zhang Xingjian surrender; she cupped his jaw, her slender fingers stroking gently beneath it, a touch light as a feather, quite different from the faint ruthlessness of her mouth pressing against his.

The dual sensation left Zhang Xingjian clearly, unmistakably affected.

Shen Qingwu noticed it too.

In the pitch dark, moonlight seeped in from outside, pale as snow and silver, falling on the two pairs of shoes outside the bed curtain.

Inside the green curtain, Zhang Xingjian’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and he caught the fleeting expression that crossed Shen Qingwu’s face—

A touch of surprise, a touch of smugness, a touch of slyness.

She thought he’d be so easily won over.

She thought he was the kind of man who could be led around by bodily desire.

Zhang Xingjian’s gaze rippled, seemingly deeply stirred. His voice grew a little unsteady, and Shen Qingwu grew gentler in response. So when he turned his face aside to dodge her kiss, Shen Qingwu didn’t chase after him.

She sat astride him, sensing his state.

Leaning down to hold him, she brushed against the broad collar of his inner robe, then traced her way further back, embracing his somewhat slender back. Shen Qingwu stroked him, lingering, again and again, marveling that anyone could be built so beautifully.

Everything that should be there was there, the fine parts of him hidden beneath his robe just as well made as the rest.

That she could enjoy a moment of intimacy with such a delicate, refined young gentleman—even if it meant going back on her earlier vow—Shen Qingwu was gradually beginning to feel it was worth it.

Who didn’t love a handsome man?

A beautiful, lovely, handsome man.

But just as her thoughts had wandered, just as she pressed a light kiss to his slightly warm cheek, she suddenly felt a chill—a dagger pressed against her throat.

Shen Qingwu lowered her eyes to look at him. “…”

His face was still flushed, his eyes still dark and glistening, but the dagger she had flung away had returned to his hand, now resting against her neck.

Zhang Xingjian said, smiling, his voice slightly hoarse, “Don’t move recklessly. My hand isn’t exactly steady right now.”

Shen Qingwu looked at him. “I don’t believe you’d actually hurt me.”

Zhang Xingjian raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you always distrust me? What, now you don’t even believe I can be ruthless?”

He coughed twice, his lips parting and closing, flushed an even deeper red. “You don’t believe I’d cut down my own beloved wife?”

Shen Qingwu said, “You wish I were your beloved wife.”

Zhang Xingjian said, feigning surprise, “So it seems that once you’ve become a ghost, you’re willing to be my beloved wife.”

Shen Qingwu was furious. “…”

What a glib tongue!

What smooth talk!

How could anyone be so good at running their mouth!

Insufferable!

Detestable!

Annoying!

She glared at him coldly.

Of course she could force herself on him.

The threat of that little dagger meant nothing to her. Zhang Xingjian’s martial skill had never matched hers to begin with; if she truly meant to make a move, he wouldn’t last a hundred strikes against her.

Besides, if she truly went mad, truly threw caution to the wind, even a knife wound from him wouldn’t stop her. At that point, no blood, no pain, could hold her back.

If she wanted him, there was no method she wouldn’t use.

She simply didn’t want to. She simply found it pointless.

Shen Qingwu realized that Zhang Xingjian truly didn’t want to sleep with her.

Otherwise he wouldn’t have sealed the door and windows so tightly, wouldn’t have hidden a dagger beneath his pillow specifically to guard against her.

A faint, dim confusion and dejection surfaced in Shen Qingwu’s dark eyes.

Zhang Xingjian saw it plainly.

She stopped moving and simply sat astride him in silence. Zhang Xingjian lowered the dagger he’d used to threaten her, and propping himself up on his elbows, sat up from the bed.

He leaned back against the bedpost. Shen Qingwu, having lost her enthusiasm, meant to leave, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and kept her seated in his lap.

Zhang Xingjian said gently, “Second Miss Shen, let’s talk.”

Shen Qingwu said, sincerely, “…Do you know how much I dread it when you say ‘let’s talk’?”

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes curved. “I know.”

But he was always so difficult to deal with, and she was always so stubbornly unmovable—if the two of them, fumbling their way down this bumpy road together, never communicated, never spoke, and relied only on impulse, only on her vow, then how would it work?

How would they ever reach the end of it together?

He didn’t want Shen Qingwu to part from him.

Even less did he want her, looking back on him someday, to think “it was nothing much,” to think “I’ve had my taste of it, and it wasn’t anything special.”

And so, during this stretch of quiet thought from Zhang Xingjian, Shen Qingwu remained lazily seated astride his waist, eyes lowered, admiring his disheveled, alluring beauty. Zhang Xingjian noticed, but only smiled, unconcerned with using his looks to keep her there.

Zhang Xingjian reached out and touched her wrist, asking her, “Does your hand hurt?”

Shen Qingwu was confused.

Zhang Xingjian said, “I sealed the door and windows—how did you get in? Don’t tell me you used internal energy to force it open.”

He spoke slowly, unhurried, gentle.

Shen Qingwu sensed keenly that he was probing at something.

But no matter how she thought about it, she didn’t understand.

She had no choice but to tell the truth. “No, I used my blade to break it open. Why would I waste internal energy on a few flimsy pieces of wood?”

Zhang Xingjian let out a breath of relief.

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “Good. Never use internal energy for something like this, and don’t waste your skill on matters so unworthy of it—Second Miss Shen, you’re still taking medicine every day. Don’t throw away three months of recovery.”

Shen Qingwu was confused.

Her gaze flickered.

Then Shen Qingwu understood what he meant—

The injuries to her heart and lungs—even though she never showed it, never let it show on her face—Zhang Xingjian had kept them in mind all along.

Shen Qingwu asked, “You care?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Why wouldn’t I care?”

He said, with mild reproach, “You’re always getting hurt without a word of complaint, showing no reaction even to serious wounds. There’s never anything on your face to tell me you’re not well. You always make me guess and guess, and it wears me out.”

Shen Qingwu was silent for a long moment.

A trace of grievance rose in her.

She thought: you don’t even call me “Wutong” anymore, and yet you claim to care. What nonsense.

But somewhere deep down, some part of her seemed to be trying to believe it.

The faint desolation she’d felt toward Zhang Xingjian began to dissolve. The tip of her heart began to soften, and a rare tenderness began to unfold toward him.

Shen Qingwu muttered, “You’re the same.”

—You can’t tell from your face when you’re in pain either. Who’s to say which of us has the higher tolerance for it?

Zhang Xingjian raised an eyebrow.

Shen Qingwu said, “If you were like me, you’d go around acting fine all day too, wouldn’t you believe it?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “…Second Miss Shen, who wants to compete with you over this? Could you rein in this inexplicable need to win?”

Shen Qingwu shot him a look, her expression cold, putting on a haughty air, though in fact she quietly shut her mouth, embarrassed.

Zhang Xingjian held her, using this as an opening to talk about nothing in particular, letting Shen Qingwu relax bit by bit, letting her guard down around him.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Second Miss Shen.”

Shen Qingwu said, languid, “Mm?”

She was still thinking: fine, if they weren’t going to sleep together, so be it. Was he still angry with her? What should she do?

Zhang Xingjian said, “Who taught you to use something like sleeping with me as a tactic against me?”

Shen Qingwu was startled.

Shen Qingwu said, “I figured it out myself, without a teacher.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “A blockhead like you, figuring it out without anyone teaching you? I doubt it—more likely you figured it out backward.”

He was insulting her!

Naturally Shen Qingwu wouldn’t give up the young soldier. So long as she was aware of what she was doing, she wouldn’t sell out a comrade.

Who knew how Zhang Xingjian might settle the score with that soldier?

Shen Qingwu said, “I simply have a natural gift for it. Is that not allowed?”

Zhang Xingjian laughed. “Someone like you, and you call that a natural gift?”

Shen Qingwu said, “Oh? Didn’t it satisfy you enough?”

Zhang Xingjian froze.

The tips of his ears went red.

He forced himself to hold firm. “No, why do you ask?”

Shen Qingwu said, flat-faced, “Is that so? What was the reason, then? Not soft enough, not big enough, not…”

He clapped a hand over her mouth at once, his eyes flying wide, clear yet hazy with light, that faint hint of desire she’d stirred up now trembling in them.

His lashes were long, his pupils sharply defined against the white, opened impossibly wide, on the verge of speech and yet holding back, as if in genuine shock—what are you even saying?!

Shen Qingwu thought to herself: he’s probably never heard such coarse talk in his whole life. A young gentleman raised deep within the inner chambers of a Dongjing household really was this sheltered.

She scoffed inwardly and rose abruptly.

He caught her by the waist at once and pulled her back down.

With rare firmness, he said, “You’re not allowed to leave.”

Shen Qingwu glanced at him. “I don’t waste time on people who don’t dare own up to what they’ve done.”

Zhang Xingjian froze, and his face began to flush red too.

His throat worked once, twice. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to steer clear of that dangerous, curiosity-inducing topic altogether.

He said, “That’s not what I meant. I’m asking how you came up with this method in the first place.”

Shen Qingwu’s gaze turned sharp. “What, are you interrogating me now?”

Zhang Xingjian said calmly, “No. I just want to discuss with you—whether this kind of tactic ought to exist at all.”

Shen Qingwu said, disdainful, “You don’t like it?”

Zhang Xingjian admitted, “I like it.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “But even if you don’t do the deed with me, if you only kiss me a little, throw your arms around me, smile at me, talk with me a bit more—I like that just as much.

“Is the pleasure of the bedchamber really only a tactic you use to manage me? Am I not worth cherishing to you? Can you only handle me through tactics?”

Shen Qingwu said, “…”

Her head began to ache.

She began to not understand him.

Shen Qingwu said, “Everyone does this.”

She tried to explain to him: “Everyone does… you upset your sweetheart, so you buy them something valuable to placate them, roll around in bed together, and all the troubles vanish.”

Zhang Xingjian said, unmoved, “I’m not like that.”

Hearing this only made Shen Qingwu angrier.

She glared at him fiercely: exactly, that’s precisely how troublesome a person you are!

Shen Qingwu said, “It must be that my technique isn’t good enough—you haven’t yet felt how hard I’m trying.”

Zhang Xingjian was left speechless by that.

Her words stirred something in him, and Shen Qingwu, seated astride his waist, suddenly felt the part of him beneath her twitch uncontrollably, pressing against her, its state seemingly quite turbulent.

The sensation of him pressing against her made Shen Qingwu’s legs tense involuntarily.

But who was she? She would never let him know that.

Shen Qingwu shot him a mischievous look.

She reached out to touch him; he’d already sensed it coming and caught her hand at once.

Zhang Xingjian shook his head, smiling faintly. “I don’t want that.”

Shen Qingwu said, “You’re… going to hold out like this, and still ‘talk’ with me?”

He said, “Mm.”

Shen Qingwu said, “You don’t feel anything?”

Zhang Xingjian sighed. “I do. It even hurts a little… but that’s nothing compared to the pain of Wutong hurting my heart.”

Shen Qingwu immediately looked away, glancing this way and that.

The heartless Zhang Xingjian propped his face up and watched her with a bright smile, looking her over from every angle.

Shen Qingwu had no choice but to stare up at the ceiling.

Zhang Xingjian leaned in close to her ear, murmuring, “Something I don’t care much about—if you use tactics like this to coax me, I’ll let it go. But something I truly care about, you can’t just talk your way past.”

He didn’t need to spell it out; Shen Qingwu had already realized as much.

Shen Qingwu turned her face away, glancing at him with irritation.

Most of the time, she was someone without much of a heart to speak of; the small trace of an ordinary heart she’d managed to grow had already been thoroughly worn down by Zhang Xingjian.

Just as her irritation was on the verge of turning into anger, Zhang Xingjian, sensing her mood, spoke suddenly, before she could lash out:

“Wutong.”

Shen Qingwu’s gaze grew hazy.

Zhang Xingjian said, “I like you.”

Her gaze lingered on his eyes a moment, then flickered and drifted away, and she said, indistinctly, “Mm.”

Zhang Xingjian watched her with great interest—in the darkness, she had quietly blushed.

The unyielding, unconquerable General Shen could blush too.

Zhang Xingjian said, unhurried, “Have you nothing to say to me?”

Shen Qingwu said, “Give me a hint.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Three words.”

Shen Qingwu looked at him, hesitant.

She ventured, “I love you?”

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “I’m sorry.”

Shen Qingwu said, “…”

Zhang Xingjian said, “What, am I not worth an ‘I’m sorry’ from you? Or do you think you did nothing wrong, and it’s all just me making unreasonable trouble?”

Of course Shen Qingwu knew she was probably in the wrong.

Perhaps it was breaking the jade pendant and trying to cover it up.

Perhaps it was pouring cold water on him at the height of his joy, bringing up something even more inappropriate at an inappropriate moment.

Perhaps it was walking away outright last night, leaving him utterly furious.

But Shen Qingwu didn’t apologize to anyone.

Shen Qingwu asked, “Does saying ‘I love you’ do nothing at all?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Nothing at all.”

He said, “Because I know you don’t mean it. You don’t love me that much. You’d only say something like that to coax me—I don’t believe it.”

Shen Qingwu said, “And if I apologize, you’ll believe that?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “I would. You never apologize to anyone. If you did apologize, it would have to be sincere—why wouldn’t I believe it?”

Shen Qingwu fell silent.

Zhang Xingjian sighed.

Zhang Xingjian said, wistful, “I keep feeling like you don’t like me all that much. You don’t like me nearly as much as I like you.”

Shen Qingwu looked at him with dark, watery eyes, saying nothing.

He looked as though he was genuinely a little hurt.

Zhang Xingjian said, “I know I can’t fully understand the environment you grew up in, but I know this much—you must have been denied and dismissed so many times that it shaped you into someone who has to keep telling herself, over and over, ‘I did nothing wrong.’

“You had to be stubborn, had to be cold, had to affirm yourself again and again, just to make it out of the Shen household, out of Dongjing.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “I don’t know how to make you feel what’s in my heart. I’ve tossed and turned over what happened back then, in so much pain, so much heartache. When you said you wanted to be with me, after that first burst of joy, I still felt unsteady inside. I kept thinking—how could someone as stubborn as Shen Qingwu ever forgive me, ever come back to find me?”

Shen Qingwu was taken aback.

She herself didn’t feel much of anything about it, but the sight of him, brows furrowed, eyes brimming, looking utterly lost, moved her bit by bit.

She’d never thought her own upbringing had been especially hard; she didn’t even know what counted as suffering, what counted as comfort.

She only knew she was different from other people… simply different, that was all.

But why did Zhang Xingjian get so tangled up over it?

Her lips parted slightly, and Zhang Xingjian pressed a finger to them, saying softly, “If it’s not an apology, I don’t want to hear it.”

Zhang Xingjian smiled as he looked at her. “Wutong, I’m always watching you, always trying to work out what kind of person you are.

“I’m not sure how much you truly feel for me. All I know is that you keep your word. So I can’t help but think—if you know full well you were wrong, and still won’t apologize to me, is that simply your nature, or is it also, perhaps, because you don’t like me all that much?

“If you knew you were wrong, and said ‘I’m sorry’ to me, wouldn’t that mean you were accepting me, bit by bit?”

Longing showed plainly in his eyes.

Shen Qingwu said slowly, “You’re forcing me to change who I am.”

Zhang Xingjian said, gentle and mild, “I’m trying to be certain of your heart.”

He said, “I won’t ask for much more than this—say ‘I’m sorry’ once, and I’ll never bring it up again, never hold it against you.”

Zhang Xingjian said, aggrieved, “You have the final say with everyone else, but do I not get a single privilege? I like you this much, and I can’t even get one apology out of you? You never apologized to me before, and you won’t now either, even though you’re clearly in the wrong—why won’t you treat me a little better?”

Shen Qingwu looked at him quietly.

Confusion rose in her, and bewilderment—why would a man like him be so uncertain of her feelings?

She had already sworn her vow.

And still he half-believed, half-doubted.

He wanted her to admit her fault, wanted her to bow her head to him just once, wanted… her to show that she cared about him.

Shen Qingwu was baffled—

Shen Qingwu said, “I always thought that between the two of us, the one left yearning without ever getting what she wanted was always me.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “It seems your assumption was wrong.”

Shen Qingwu said, “I thought that once we were together, you would be the one who couldn’t bear it, before I would.”

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes curved. “I’m afraid of being the one who can’t bear it too.”

Shen Qingwu said, “I thought you were tolerant, gentle, free of desire, free of demands, that you didn’t much care about anything.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “I have my own stubbornness too, my own longing, my own side that insists on things. You’d best not see that side of me—it isn’t the moon you fell in love with.”—

Shen Qingwu said, “That’s not how it is.”—

But she fell silent after that.

Clumsy with words, unable to express herself, she only sensed something subtle shifting.

That subtlety needed time—time to think it over slowly, to savor it slowly—

In the dark, Shen Qingwu looked at Zhang Xingjian.

She struggled for a long while, and still couldn’t say the words.

The principle she’d held to for years pulled at her, split her in two. It felt as though she were walking a path paved with moonlight, while something in the darkness kept dragging her back, swallowing her whole, refusing to let her leave.

What kind of person was Shen Qingwu, really, and what kind of person would she become? Walking so resolutely down a path she believed to be right, where would she end up in the end?

She didn’t know herself.

She glanced at Zhang Xingjian.

She didn’t know what expression that glance carried, but something in Zhang Xingjian’s gaze wavered, and for one moment his heart softened.

He leaned in and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, saying softly, “All right, all right. If you can’t say it tonight, then we won’t say it. You don’t have to force yourself so hard.”

Held in his arms, Shen Qingwu reached up and gently wrapped her arms around his neck.

She thought he was really so good.

Better than she’d ever imagined.

But just as Shen Qingwu was feeling moved in her heart, she heard Zhang Yuelu say, “If you can’t say it today, then tomorrow. If you can’t say it this year, then next year.”

Tomorrow?

Next year?

Shen Qingwu said, “…”

She reined in her feelings and looked up at him, expressionless. “So I really have to apologize?”

Zhang Xingjian nodded.

Shen Qingwu’s face darkened—

Shen Qingwu was shown out of the room by Zhang Xingjian.

Midnight had long since passed; theirs were likely the only two people still awake in the whole inn.

Zhang Xingjian was exceedingly polite about it. “I won’t forgive you until you apologize. That’s only right—if you won’t even apologize, how could I forgive you?

“There’s no need to try talking to me, no need to try wearing down my resolve, no need to try tempting me with underhanded tricks. None of it will do any good.

“You know how ruthless I can be when I set my mind to it.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Three words.”

He closed the door on her. “I’ll be waiting.”—

Shen Qingwu turned and stormed back to her room, her face cold with fury.

She thought, what was so impressive about that.

If she simply refused to say it, what could he do?

He was only lording it over her because he knew she liked him…

She cursed him out thoroughly in her head, then stopped in her tracks: wait. Because she liked him?

Liked who?

Did she really like him that much?

Shen Qingwu sank into deep thought—

The next morning, having barely slept a wink all night, Shen Qingwu came down to the first floor of the inn and ran into Zhang Xingjian, who looked just as sleepless.

She sat at the table with her arms crossed, her expression grave, as though contemplating some great matter of life.

Zhang Xingjian took his seat and ordered breakfast.

Shen Qingwu stared at him.

Perhaps she’d stared too long, too intensely, because he finally looked up and greeted her. “Morning.”

Shen Qingwu was satisfied.

As the attendant brought out breakfast, Shen Qingwu bit into a meat bun and thought to herself: it seems not apologizing hasn’t really affected anything.

Zhang Xingjian still talked to her as usual, still answered her questions when she pressed him, still smiled at her.

Not much different from before at all!

At most, he teased her a little less, didn’t suddenly smile at her out of nowhere, didn’t lean close to her, didn’t sneak glances at her, didn’t think of her the way he used to, absolutely refused to open the door for her, absolutely refused to let her into his bed…

Not much different from before at all!

Shen Qingwu could endure it—

Shen Qingwu very quickly could not endure it any longer.

It wasn’t that lust had gotten the better of her, that she couldn’t bear the misery of solitary nights—rather, three days later, on a rainy day, they knocked on the door of Zhang Xingjian’s old teacher, come to pay a visit.

His teacher himself was no trouble at all.

The trouble was the teacher’s precious daughter, who took one look at Zhang Xingjian and stirred up a real sense of crisis in Shen Qingwu—

The rain fell in a steady patter as Shen Qingwu, wearing a straw hat, followed behind Zhang Xingjian.

They had just met the teacher and his daughter in the main hall; the daughter, delicate and lovely, had cast glance after glance his way. All of this left Shen Qingwu feeling thoroughly, unpleasantly uneasy.

Rain streamed like a brook, willows green and peach blossoms red, the garden path winding long and old.

Treading over the wet, slick flagstones after the rain, Shen Qingwu said, “Hey.”

The young gentleman ahead of her, as always, acted as though he hadn’t heard a word.

Shen Qingwu grabbed hold of him and dragged him to walk alongside her.

The elderly steward leading the way ahead had no idea that behind him, Shen Qingwu had already pulled the reluctant Zhang Sanlang into step beside her.

Shen Qingwu said, “Let’s leave this place. It’s not like you only have one teacher—let’s find another.”

Zhang Xingjian, being pulled along by her, had half his sleeve soaked through by the rain, his lashes glistening silver with raindrops. “There’s no such thing as switching teachers on a whim. What are you talking about—why leave?”

He assumed she’d noticed some hidden danger that he hadn’t.

Instead, Shen Qingwu said, “She wants to bed you.”

Zhang Xingjian froze.

This time he didn’t pretend not to understand, didn’t trade riddles with her. Her words left him utterly stunned, and after holding it in for a good while, he couldn’t help but laugh at how endearing she was.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Crude.”

Shen Qingwu corrected herself. “She wants to love you.”

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes curved, and he turned to look at the rain beyond the sky.