A shower of fine, soft kisses fell upon Pu Zhu’s face.

Her arched brows, her closed eyelids, her long, curled lashes, her pretty nose, her rosy lips—each was kissed in turn, and then the kisses traveled along her pale, smooth neck downward, lingering there, reluctant to leave, gradually intensifying—until at last they became nips and bites…

Pu Zhu was finally roused from sleep by that sensation on her chest—a slight pain mingled with an itch.

She was still drowsy. So terribly drowsy…

She simply could not open her eyes.

Last night had truly worn her out. Right now she wanted nothing at all… and she did not want him to touch her.

She just wanted to keep sleeping!

Eyes shut, she drew in her neck to dodge him. Finding she could not escape, she raised one hand in a haphazard push against the face pressing down toward her, rolled over, and tumbled out of his arms.

At last she was free.

She lay face down, cheek pressed to the pillow, yawned, and went right back to sleep.

Li Xuandu looked at the stretch of back she had left facing him: her black hair, wild and disheveled, spread across snow-white shoulders; her skin so delicate it seemed it could be shattered by a breath; her slender waist, which looked so fragile it seemed as though a single fold of his hands could snap it—and yet it had proved, in fact, as supple and resilient as the willow branches saturated with the first spring rains, far beyond what he had imagined…

He gazed at her, and gradually his mind wandered.

They had been married for well over a year, and the number of times they had been together could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

To think he had walked past a treasure every single day without going in. What a spectacular waste. What profound stupidity.

The darkness in his eyes deepened. He could not stop himself from reaching toward her again. His palm lightly pressed against her and he slowly stroked, savoring the sensation of her warm, soft skin in the early morning. After a moment that was still not enough, he brought his face close and opened his mouth.

That pain-and-itch again!

What on earth was he trying to do…

Pu Zhu was annoyed. She groped around, trying to grab a blanket to pull over herself and bury herself in it, mumbling her complaints: “Stop it! I’m sleepy… I still want to sleep!”

Li Xuandu coaxed her: “Just keep sleeping. Don’t mind me. I’m just going to kiss you a little…”

Pu Zhu endured it for a moment, but in the end could not.

The way he was going at it, she had no way of sleeping at all—especially this morning, when she was genuinely still exhausted.

Since coming here, had he not been busy every day, rising early each morning, so that by the time she woke up he was nowhere to be found?

Right now she deeply missed the feeling of waking up to find him already gone.

She finally forced herself to struggle open her sticky eyelids and glanced at the bright light of dawn filtering in through the window.

Before coming here, she had read in her father’s journal that in the Western Regions, sunrise and sunset came much later than in the central heartland of the country. In summer, the sky often did not go fully dark until late at night; though in autumn and winter sunset came somewhat earlier than in summer, the sun also rose correspondingly later.

Now that autumn had arrived, judging by the light and from her experience since arriving here, it was well past the third morning hour.

He had never risen this late before. Besides, though he was back here in the rear quarters, even she could hear the faint shouts of soldiers doing morning drills drifting in from outside the fortress.

She did not believe he could not hear them.

If she were the one serving as Governor, and her soldiers were already up drilling, how could she possibly turn a deaf ear to it and lie here idling away?

Diligence and setting an example for one’s officers and soldiers—was that not the most basic quality a commander-in-chief should embody?

After just a few days, he had once again grown this slack. Just like before, utterly possessed by the spirit of a dried-up salted fish.

If this kept up, how could it be acceptable?

Her displeasure with him grew, and she shoved him aside again—this time with real force.

He was caught off guard and was pushed back onto the pillow.

“It is not early—everyone has gone to drill! Your Highness, you still have not risen? Do you have no business today?”

Li Xuandu, seeing her looking at him with an expression of total disdain, felt a twinge of guilt—but then reconsidered and lifted his chin: “Ye Xiao is taking three days off, and he’s still resting today! I only slept in a little—how is that not acceptable?”

Pu Zhu nearly burst out laughing from exasperation: “He just got married! Are you seriously comparing yourself to him? Besides, weren’t you the one who gave him the time off?”

Having said her piece, she saw that he simply lay there not moving, and decided to stop bothering with him. She sat up to look for her clothes, saying as she went: “Fine—you sleep if you want to sleep. I’m getting up; I have things to do today…”

Li Xuandu lay back on the pillow. Seeing that she was about to leave him behind, his mind involuntarily drifted back to the scene from yesterday—the King of Shushu Kingdom’s elder sister sitting beside Ye Xiao, gazing at him with tender, adoring eyes.

That whole-hearted adoration and admiration had been plain for even an outsider like himself to see clearly. And looking back at himself—he had married Pu Zhu, yet from the very beginning of their marriage, had she ever treated him that way? From the day she married him, she was either scheming against him or pressuring him…

Never mind then, even now, at this very moment, she still showed him not the slightest tenderness or care…

Li Xuandu felt a sour pang in his heart—a deep, gnawing sourness. He watched as she finished dressing herself, bundling herself up properly from head to toe, then abandoned him and began crawling toward the edge of the bed. Just as she was about to get down, he raised a foot and lightly hooked her leg.

Pu Zhu tripped and fell right on top of him.

As that warm, soft figure tumbled into his embrace, he flipped over at once and pressed her beneath him.

Pu Zhu struggled hard beneath him, demanding he let her go—which only stirred up his perverseness. Not only did he refuse to release her, but he dipped his head and opened his mouth—through a layer of cloth—and took a fierce, large bite of the peak of her chest, clamping down and refusing to let go.

The pain hit Pu Zhu hard. Had she not been in bed with him pressing down on her, she would certainly have leaped up. She let out a sharp cry of “Ow,” raised her hand and hit him, cursed him for being wicked, and demanded he release her at once.

He gave a snort of laughter, raised his head to look at her—the darkness in his eyes flickering and swirling like shadowed waves—and slowly let go of his bite, leaving a damp mark on the front of her robe.

“I’m wicked—did you only realize that today?” His voice was low and rough, the kind that made one’s heart tremble on hearing it.

In his usual manner he always wore an expression of cool detachment. This rare expression on him now, this mood and tone… suddenly made Pu Zhu think of the him she had first seen years ago at Ziyun Temple in the capital—that dusk when he stood alone drinking wine in the rain—also disheveled like this, unrestrained and free…

For some reason, a tingle spread across her scalp, and the spot where he had bitten her began to itch slowly, as if… she wanted him to bite her once more to relieve the itch…

She bit her lip and addressed him directly by name: “Li Xuandu!”

He gave a lazy “Mm,” bent one arm at the elbow to prop it beside her shoulder, his hand supporting his head, his handsome face tilted slightly as he gazed down at her sideways.

Pu Zhu’s voice dropped: “…If you keep teasing me, I’m going to be angry…” Before the last word had fallen, her eyes went wide as she watched his face press down toward her slowly—until his lips met hers, touching lightly, like a dragonfly skimming the surface of water. He did this several times in succession, and with each touch her heart gave a corresponding leap, as if the kisses were falling directly onto her heart.

At last he kissed her properly.

Pu Zhu quickly lost all thought. Her mind went hollow. She did not know how much time had passed before she finally caught her breath—and seemed to hear him asking in her ear: “Did our Shuzhu have a good time last night?”

Her cheeks were flushed pink. She closed her eyes and nodded.

“Do you want more?” His deep voice continued its coaxing.

Her lashes trembled violently. She nodded again.

“Hold on to me,” he commanded.

She immediately raised both arms and wrapped them tightly around his shoulders and back—then suddenly, a hesitant knock came at the door, and Luo Bao’s voice followed: “Your Highness… Your Highness… are you awake?”

Li Xuandu was interrupted. He stopped and slowly raised his head, annoyed. “What is it?”

“The Left Marshal has been waiting out front since early this morning… waiting for Your Highness. He said yesterday that Your Highness wanted him today to take Your Highness on an inspection tour of the beacon towers. He asked several times just now where Your Highness had gone, and I—I saw it was getting late and came to ask—”

Luo Bao slept outside, so he naturally had no idea what had happened last night.

Early that morning, puzzled and unable to understand why the Prince Qin—unlike Ye Xiao, who was newly married—was sleeping so late today, he had come to check several times, but the door had always been shut. On top of that he was being pressed with questions, so he finally came to knock.

Having served Li Xuandu for many years, the moment he heard the tone of his voice, he knew he was displeased. He suspected his timing was off, and panic made him stumble over his words.

A look of frustration crossed Li Xuandu’s face. He hesitated, then said: “Go tell him to change it to tomorrow…”

Pu Zhu heard every word clearly. The mind that had just been bewitched by that man came flooding back to her. She snapped her eyes open, shoved him hard, and interrupted his words—calling out through the door to Luo Bao: “Go tell him to wait just a little while longer. His Highness will be right out!”

Luo Bao acknowledged and left. Pu Zhu urged Li Xuandu to get up and go attend to his duties.

He shot a glance at her expression, gave a sigh, and climbed up.

Pu Zhu got out of bed and quickly dressed herself. Turning back, she saw him still stumbling around like a headless fly looking for his clothes. She shook her head, went over to find them for him, and helped him put them on piece by piece. After washing up, he hastily ate a few bites of food and departed in a rush.

That day, Li Xuandu toured all five or six beacon towers being restored within a hundred li, accompanied by Zhang Shishan. By the time he returned it was already late—past the seventh evening hour—yet the sun had only just set, and the light was still quite bright. So he made a detour to the garrison fields to inspect the farmland and irrigation works under repair.

An old agricultural officer with extensive field experience, working under Zhang Shishan, gave him his report: everything was progressing smoothly, and in a few more days they would be ready to sow winter wheat. As for millet and rice, they could only set aside the land for now, and wait to plow and plant in spring of the following year.

Li Xuandu offered words of encouragement to the garrison soldiers and only then concluded the day’s affairs, making his way back to the fortress.

After Li Xuandu left that morning, Pu Zhu had not been idle either. She went to visit the local residents who had resettled.

Zhang Shishan had already sent men to repair the houses that had been abandoned and fallen into disrepair after years without inhabitants—the work was not yet finished, so these people were temporarily lodged in some empty buildings on the outer perimeter of the fortress. The men had all gone to help with the repairs; among the seven or eight women remaining, there were several widows, plus over a dozen children. All were lean and dark from the sun, some with scabies on their skin, and the little girls’ hair was crawling with lice.

Pu Zhu summoned a medical officer to treat their illnesses and remove the lice. She also noticed that the clothing on several of the young girls was truly ragged—the fabric crumbled at a touch—and a few of them had not even proper garments at all. What they wore was woven from tree bark and grass roots, barely covering their bodies. That same day she and A’mu and the wet nurse worked together to alter some old clothing into several garments for the girls, led them to wash, and when they were clean, helped them change into their new clothes.

She was busy all day and only returned to the rear courtyard at dusk. Seeing Li Xuandu had not yet come back, she decided to wait for him before eating, and went to wash first. After bathing, she changed into a set of blue-green gauze robes and sat with A’mu on a floor mat spread under the grapevine trellis in the courtyard, leaning against a low table, letting her long hair dry in the light of the fading dusk while enjoying the cool evening air.

A wild grapevine had grown in this small courtyard for years, untended, sprawling and rambling—yet it bore no fruit. After Pu Zhu moved in, she had not cut it down but built a trellis for it instead, guiding the grape branches upward until they covered nearly the entire sky above the courtyard. Now the courtyard was neat and tidy, inhabited only by her, Li Xuandu, and A’mu—quiet and serene.

She had barely settled herself when Luo Bao arrived, attentively ushering A’mu to go rest, saying he would tend to the Princess Consort’s hair himself.

A’mu yielded her place and went to the kitchen.

Since A’Ju had returned, some of the more personal attendant duties were no longer for Luo Bao to perform. Here in this place, he could not even get into this courtyard anymore—he was lodged next door—and had been feeling a little forlorn. Now that he had finally seized his chance and succeeded in winning some favor, his mood was excellent. He dried her hair for her, then took up a comb and began slowly working through it—and as he combed, he praised the Princess Consort’s hair for being thick and beautiful.

Pu Zhu sat on the floor mat with her knees drawn up, smiling as she chatted with him: “What have you been up to lately?”

Luo Bao said: “I used to serve His Highness and the Princess Consort, but these days His Highness is busy every day—I can’t see him—and the Princess Consort has A’mu and has no use for me. I have nothing to do, so I’ve been following those rough fellows to train in martial arts—and then that blue-faced Marshal Zhang yelled at me, said I was in the way. I’ve trained with His Highness before and he never yelled at me like that…”

Hearing the aggrieved tone in his voice, Pu Zhu held back a laugh and encouraged him: “Training in martial arts is good—keep going when you have free time. If you are worried about Right Marshal Zhang, I will speak to His Highness about it and have him put in a word with the Marshal.”

Luo Bao gave a half-hearted “Yes.”

Pu Zhu then asked about Ye Xiao and the Shushu Princess, saying she had not seen either of them these past two days.

Luo Bao finally perked back up: “That’s right, I haven’t seen them either! I only ran into the wet nurse the Princess brought with her, carrying meals in to their room. Deputy Commander Ye still has one day of wedding leave left, doesn’t he? He Hou and the others have been running a betting pool these past two days, wagering on whether Deputy Commander Ye will show his face tomorrow… Goodness, I can’t figure those two out—what is there to do, being cooped up together day and night? Won’t he get tired of it?”

Pu Zhu covered her mouth with a laugh: “Whether they get tired of it isn’t for you to say! Don’t go meddling!”

Luo Bao gave a sheepish grin, scratching his head: “I know, I know—I’m just curious, just talking out of turn…”

Li Xuandu, watching this scene from outside in the dusky courtyard, listening to her laughter, unconsciously stopped in his tracks. He leaned against the gateway until Luo Bao looked up and saw him with a delighted cry—only then did he step inside, saying his stomach was empty.

Luo Bao immediately scurried off to have the meal brought out. After they ate, Li Xuandu came out in a loose robe after his bath, and seeing her still sitting under the grapevine trellis, peeling grapes on a plate, he went over. He stepped barefoot onto the mat, sat down beside her, raised his hand to take a handful of her fine hair, and breathed in the fragrance from within deeply.

Pu Zhu asked him how many places he had been to today and whether he was tired. Hearing that he had ridden his horse until it was foaming at the mouth and nearly dropped dead from exhaustion, she gestured for him to lie down and rest.

Li Xuandu took the opportunity to lean back against her, lying down with his head on her lap.

Pu Zhu pursed her lips: “There’s a pillow over there, isn’t there?”

Li Xuandu picked up a book she had been reading that was lying nearby, flipping through it idly in the last traces of evening light filtering through the grapevine trellis, and said evenly: “That one is too hard. I won’t use it.”

Pu Zhu could only let him be. She told him to open his mouth and popped a freshly peeled grape into it.

He ate it and said: “They have ice here too?”

“Where would ice come from? There is a water well in the back—it had been dry for years. When they cleared out the accumulated silt and debris, water came up again. After letting it settle for a few days, A’mu said the water was usable—not only crisp and clear, but cool and refreshing. The grapes were chilled in the well.”

He gave a sound of acknowledgment and ate another grape she fed him. The two chatted idly for a few exchanges, and then Pu Zhu thought of Ye Xiao’s marriage and grew curious. She asked: “That day—what on earth did you say to Ye Xiao to get him to agree to marry the Princess?”

On that occasion, Li Xuandu had told Ye Xiao that in order to reassure the Shushu Kingdom, and to resolve the early difficulties facing the Governor’s Office, someone on their side needed to marry the Shushu king’s sister—it was an assignment. He thought Ye Xiao was well-suited for it, and it would solve his personal affairs as well—killing two birds with one stone. Unexpectedly, Ye Xiao declined. He then said that originally he himself had planned to take her as a secondary consort, but the Princess Consort was firmly opposed and would absolutely not allow him to take a concubine. Afraid that forcing the matter would make his inner household turbulent, he had reluctantly given up.

Since he himself could not take her, someone still needed to fulfill the assignment. The Shushu Kingdom was quite satisfied with Ye Xiao, so he was the only candidate—he had no choice but to marry her.

It was by these means that Ye Xiao had finally nodded his head in agreement.

Li Xuandu, hearing her pressing him on this point, naturally did not tell the truth. He kept his eyes fixed on the book in his hand: “He’s already at that age, and here was such a good thing—why wouldn’t he agree?”

Pu Zhu thought about it, and it did seem to make sense. Thinking of how Ye Xiao and the Princess were deeply in love after their marriage, a perfect match for each other, she was happy for them, and fed him another grape.

Li Xuandu swallowed it and asked in a casual tone: “The things you told the Prince that day—were they true?” He stole a glance at her as he spoke.

Pu Zhu thought back, and understood what he was referring to. She continued peeling grapes and said: “If I didn’t say that, how was he to be at ease? Was I supposed to say that Your Highness is unreliable?”

Li Xuandu paused. His hand raced through several pages of the book, and then, as if asking idly: “Then why didn’t you agree to the Prince that day?”

Pu Zhu replied: “Your Highness, you could be considered a rare prize, and the Shushu Kingdom is only a small country after all. Agreeing to something like that right away when we’ve barely arrived would be a bit improper. We should at least wait until later—if we encounter one or two great kingdoms, and if there is still a need for an alliance through marriage, we can consider it then. Don’t you think so, Your Highness?”

Having said all that, she peeled another grape to feed him—only to see him clamp his lips firmly shut, eyes fixed unblinking on the book. Then he pressed the book over his face and said, muffled: “I’m not eating anymore. I’m full.”

Pu Zhu could hold it in no longer. She laughed and laughed, took away the book he had pressed over his face, and coaxed him to open his mouth.

He didn’t move at first—then suddenly his mouth snapped open. Along with the grape, he caught one of her fingers in a bite and held it there, and then slowly licked away the grape juice clinging to her finger.

Pu Zhu felt her finger wrapped in his tongue—hot and soft—licking until it was numb and tingling… The sensation seemed to seep through her finger into her bones, then spread throughout her body…

She finally came to her senses and quickly snatched her hand back, hiding it behind herself.

He opened his eyes. He sat up from her lap, leaned toward her, opened his mouth, and caught her lips, kissing her deeply. After a long while, when this kiss—flavored with the sweetness of grape juice—finally ended, he pressed his forehead against hers and asked softly: “You want me to eat grapes peeled by other women in the future? To bite their fingers, to kiss them the way I kiss you?”

Her breathing had gone moist and warm. She shook her head.

He rubbed his nose bridge affectionately against her heated cheek, his voice continuing in a hypnotic, coaxing tone: “I want you to say it. Do you want that or not?”

“I don’t want it…”

Eyes reddening, she finally said the words.

A gleam of satisfaction at last rose in Li Xuandu’s eyes. He said: “Then remember this. It must always be this way, from now on.”

She said yes—utterly obedient.

He could hold back no longer. He scooped her up in both arms and carried her inside, shutting the door behind him.

The last light of day finally exhausted itself. Night fell once more.

The night wind blew, and the grapevine leaves overhead rustled and trembled.

A’Ju sat beneath the grapevine trellis, fanning herself with a banana-leaf fan, a slight smile at the corners of her lips. She was thinking about what delicious food to make tomorrow to put a little more flesh on her young mistress.

The new bride of Deputy Commander Ye looked like she would be easy to fatten up—A’Ju envied that greatly.