The experiences of her previous life had taught Song Chuyi a principle: if she wanted to live well, she should suppress those overflowing, meaningless emotions and steadily learn to be a proper mistress of the household who followed the rules. Don’t expect, don’t ask for more, and there would be no disappointment.

She had indeed done exactly that, until she met Zhou Weizhao.

She had stopped in place, not daring to move forward, immersed in nightmares unable to wake. He had walked toward her step by step, completely liberating her from the nightmares of her previous life. Such a person made it difficult not to be moved.

The vows she had originally sworn so solemnly instantly became empty words. Her heart was clearly no longer under her own control, but the more it was beyond her control, the deeper her unease grew. She was far from confident enough to believe she could possess Zhou Weizhao alone, yet she couldn’t help but immerse herself in his promises.

Hearing him say this, she sniffled, knowing it was best not to believe, yet still extended her pinky finger: “Pinky promise.”

Zhou Weizhao had been somewhat angry, but seeing her look so pitiful, his temper instantly vanished. With a smile, he extended his hand to hook her pinky finger: “Pinky promise.”

Having received this promise, Song Chuyi came completely alive. Though she knew promises couldn’t be trusted, she still needed a reason to set her heart at ease. She looked at Zhou Weizhao with a smile, suddenly feeling filled with joy. She reached out to hook her arms around his neck and happily pecked him on the cheek.

In her previous life, she had loved Shen Qingrang. Even when she loved him very, very much, she had never shown him such affection. It was because the disgust Shen Qingrang consciously or unconsciously revealed had deterred her. Until she had Ran’er—a small, thin little bundle, a chubby little dumpling that had fallen from her belly, with eyes clear as water, round eyes looking at her, containing nothing but dependence without a trace of impurity—she had loved to forcefully peck him on the cheek like this too.

But she forgot this wasn’t a little meat dumpling in swaddling clothes. The moment her sneak attack was complete, Zhou Weizhao suddenly pounced on her.

Soft silken hair spread out like ink, like the finest brocade. Zhou Weizhao reached his hand behind Song Chuyi’s neck to steady her head, his eyes seeming to contain the full starry sky, so bright one dared not look directly at them.

Song Chuyi finally belatedly realized something was wrong. She opened her mouth in surprise and had only said the word “you” when Zhou Weizhao covered her mouth with his lips.

He had loved this little cat for a long time. After all this time, he had finally waited for the feisty little cat to be willing to retract her claws, to quietly and trustingly show him a completely unguarded smile. His heart was full of joy.

The young girl was like a newly blooming flower. Zhou Weizhao pressed his forehead against hers, laughing in a muffled voice.

And Song Chuyi already felt she couldn’t catch her breath.

Just when she felt she was about to suffocate to death, Zhou Weizhao finally released her. She took several deep breaths, finally feeling her muddled thoughts slightly clear. But barely a moment after clearing, Zhou Weizhao’s other hand had already begun to become restless.

His hand was somewhat cool, chilling her so that she involuntarily wanted to retreat. But Zhou Weizhao’s hand gripping the back of her neck also gradually began to apply force. That sensation was truly too distinct. Her face flushed red like peach blossoms on branches in early spring, a patch of crimson. She felt her whole body was soft, unable to summon even a bit of strength. Only when she suddenly felt cold did she realize with alarm that the bright red gauze robe that had been draped over her had somehow fallen to the floor at some point. Having lived two lives, she had never experienced such a situation. Fortunately, this cry of alarm was quickly blocked by Zhou Weizhao again.

Song Chuyi was held in his arms at the waist in a panic, feeling like she was prey already in his mouth. In anxious haste, she tugged at his clothing to remind him: “The curtain…”

Her face was already as red as it could possibly be. Zhou Weizhao laughed softly, reached out to sweep down the gold hook holding the bed curtain embroidered with bright red pomegranate patterns, and rolled into the bedding with Song Chuyi in his arms.

Song Chuyi trembled and shook, terrified by his torment, her eyes widening like a startled cat: “Aren’t you a Daoist priest?!”

This time Zhou Weizhao didn’t have such a good temper. His breathing clearly rapid, he said softly in her ear: “Just bear with it.”

Who knows how long passed before this grueling battle finally ended. Song Chuyi no longer even had the strength to speak. Held in Zhou Weizhao’s arms for quite a while to recover, she finally wrapped herself in the quilt, leaving only her eyes exposed to glare at him: “Help me call in Nanny and Qing Tao.”

Zhou Weizhao was amused by her embarrassed and angry appearance, quite naturally pulled her—person and quilt together—extracting her from the covers to hold her horizontally in his arms: “I’ll attend to you myself. What do we need them for?”