Two layers of medicine applied — it had nearly cost Yu Jingfeng half his life.

Yet Leng Xuepiao remained just as calm and composed as ever.

She put the medicine away, took up the bandages, and without another word began wrapping Yu Jingfeng’s wound.

The wound covered quite a wide area, and Leng Xuepiao had to lean in close from time to time to reach it.

This meant contact between the two of them was unavoidable.

The little girl’s fresh scent and gentle touch finally managed to dissolve Yu Jingfeng’s pain in the shortest time possible.

But before he could properly savor the feeling of having a wife, the bandaging was already done.

Leng Xuepiao tied off the bandage, stood up, tidied the things by the bedside, and slung the medicine chest over her shoulder.

Yu Jingfeng kept watching her, hoping she’d say more to him.

Instead, once the medicine chest was on her shoulder, the little girl turned and walked away without a word.

One step, two steps, three steps… she really was leaving. She wasn’t saying anything at all — she was just going to go.

“Xuepiao.” Yu Jingfeng, hardly believing his own eyes, sat up.

“What is it?” Leng Xuepiao stopped and turned to look at him.

“Are you… leaving?” Yu Jingfeng blinked and asked softly.

Shouldn’t she stay and keep him company the whole night?

He was injured — when their lord was injured, Miss Jiu’er never left his side for even a moment.

“That’s right.” Leng Xuepiao nodded, somewhat indifferently. “Anything else?”

“No.” Yu Jingfeng shook his head, utterly dejected.

Though his injury wasn’t very severe, it wasn’t exactly minor either, was it? Jian Yi hadn’t shown him any mercy at all.

“Oh.” Leng Xuepiao said nothing further and turned again.

“Xuepiao.” Yu Jingfeng grew anxious.

Maybe his little wife simply didn’t understand. Perhaps, as her husband, he ought to give her a hint.

Leng Xuepiao stopped again, and when she turned back, a hint of impatience flickered in her eyes.

“Yu Jingfeng, what exactly is wrong with you?”

Yu Jingfeng met her gaze, blinking, his expression brightening a little.

“Xuepiao, so you do know my name.”

“Xiao Yingtao told me.” Leng Xuepiao answered casually.

“Xuepiao, can you stay with me a while?” Yu Jingfeng really didn’t want the little thing to leave.

He’d been tired earlier too, wanting to sleep — but after she’d come to look after him, he’d become wide awake.

Miss Jiu’er was really something, giving him a surprise even in the middle of the night — it seemed all his thoughtfulness toward the prince and Miss Jiu’er hadn’t gone to waste.

“Why?” Leng Xuepiao tilted her head slightly, blinking.

“Because…” Yu Jingfeng’s mind spun and spun, and he glanced down at his own wound.

“My wound hurts, I can’t sleep, and I want someone to talk to.”

“But I can’t talk well.” Leng Xuepiao answered bluntly.

Everyone always said she wasn’t good at talking, and over time, she’d spoken less and less.

The way Leng Xuepiao had become was closely tied to the environment she’d grown up in.

Someone who already wasn’t fond of talking, and had been treated as mute besides, naturally spoke even less.

It could be said that only after arriving at Tianji Hall had she started talking more.

Thinking of the condition Feng Jiu’er had mentioned, Yu Jingfeng felt a pang of tenderness for the little girl.

“Who says my Xuepiao can’t talk well? Your voice is so sweet, and you’re plenty good at talking.”

“Right, Xuepiao, could you pour me a cup of water? I’m injured.”

Yu Jingfeng thought about it for a long while and decided he really should make good use of his injury, doing all the things his lord had once done.

Thinking of how his little girl might one day become as devotedly loyal as Miss Jiu’er, he felt he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Leng Xuepiao glanced around the room, then went and found a teapot and cup and poured a cup of water.

She carried the cup and returned to the bedside.

“Xuepiao.” Yu Jingfeng looked gently at the girl beside the bed.

But as he reached out his hand, his thick brows knitted.

“My shoulder hurts a lot, and I have no strength in my hand — could you bring it up to me?” Yu Jingfeng asked, scheming.

Leng Xuepiao frowned her small crescent brows and looked at his other arm.

Yu Jingfeng immediately understood her intent; the corner of his mouth curved reluctantly, but he still didn’t reach out, instead leaning his head further out toward her.

Leng Xuepiao’s gaze returned to his thin lips, and she brought the cup over to him.

Many times, when brothers-in-arms were injured and couldn’t even feed themselves, the others would take responsibility for feeding them water and food.

Though Leng Xuepiao didn’t understand why Yu Jingfeng wasn’t using his other arm, she didn’t ask further either.

The man, imagining that his “wife” was feeding him water, felt his mood lift so much that even the long-cooled water tasted sweet.

No matter how slowly Yu Jingfeng drank, the water in the cup was eventually finished.

“Could I have another cup?” Yu Jingfeng looked at his “wife,” his voice turned gentle.

“Do you have designs on me?” Leng Xuepiao stared at Yu Jingfeng and asked in a low, serious voice.

Only now did Yu Jingfeng understand what it meant for someone to say little, yet have a single line make you question your whole life.

He’d never understood before what Miss Jiu’er meant by “questioning your whole life” — now he understood.

No designs? He had them. Miss Jiu’er had said Xuepiao couldn’t be lied to.

But could he nod right now? What if it frightened the little thing? She was fragile and fainted easily.

Their eyes met, and no matter how many times Yu Jingfeng’s mind spun, Leng Xuepiao remained as indifferent as ever.

In the end, Yu Jingfeng blinked and, seemingly without meaning to, looked away.

Soon, he gathered his courage and looked at Leng Xuepiao again.

“Xuepiao, what answer would you like to hear?”

“It doesn’t matter to me.” Leng Xuepiao shook her head without a care. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”

As Feng Jiu’er had said, Yu Jingfeng held quite a different place in Leng Xuepiao’s heart.

In the three days she’d known him, she’d spoken more to him than she had to everyone else combined over the past year.

“There is something.” Yu Jingfeng, thoroughly saddened, shifted and caught the hem of her sleeve.

He didn’t dare take her small hand, afraid of crushing it — what should he do?

Yu Jingfeng’s gaze kept drifting to her fair, delicate little hand.

He looked down at her hand while she stared straight ahead at his forehead.

“Yu Jingfeng, what exactly are you trying to do? Aren’t you worried someone might barge in?”

Yu Jingfeng snapped back to himself and looked up at his little girl.

“Xuepiao, come, sit down.”

He very carefully took hold of her small hand — so small, so smooth.

Leng Xuepiao sat down on the bed, and even though the man before her stared at her with burning eyes, she didn’t seem to mind at all.

It was unclear whether the little girl Xuepiao hadn’t noticed, or whether she simply had the nerve not to care about such a small detail.

“Xuepiao.” Now that he’d taken her hand, Yu Jingfeng was reluctant to let go.

“Say, hypothetically — I’m just saying hypothetically — if I… liked you, what would you… do?”

“Don’t get worked up!” Yu Jingfeng shifted his body, agitated. “I’m just saying hypothetically, you…”

“You can take it seriously, or you can not take it seriously — really, I mean no harm, don’t get worked up, all right?”

“Whatever.” Leng Xuepiao tossed out the word, blinking her round eyes.

Yu Jingfeng: She wasn’t worked up at all. Not even the slightest bit.

—