Shen Tang returned to the room and placed the quilt Liu Yuniang had brought on the bed.
Meng Huaiyan looked surprised, his eyes questioning her.
Shen Tang explained, “There are only two rooms in Liu Yuniang’s house.”
“Until your subordinates find us, it looks like we’ll both be staying in this room.”
“Of course.” Shen Tang paused, then gestured toward the floor. “If you’re not happy with that, you can sleep on the floor.”
The floor wasn’t tiled. It was hard-packed yellow earth, pitted and uneven.
Even standing on it, you could feel the bumps and hollows underfoot, let alone lying down.
Shen Tang had no intention of making herself suffer. She certainly wasn’t going to sleep on the floor.
If Meng Huaiyan was so put off by her that he chose to sleep on it, Shen Tang would be more than happy.
Meng Huaiyan lowered his eyes to the floor, his expression darkening.
He naturally didn’t want to share a bed with Shen Tang, but looking at the floor, he was just as unwilling to sleep there.
It looked uncomfortable, for one thing, and he also found it a little dirty…
Meng Huaiyan said nothing, but Shen Tang could guess that he wouldn’t choose the floor.
Young Master Meng had grown up surrounded by every luxury. Everything he ate, wore, and used was of the finest quality; he was particular about everything.
Knowing how stubborn he was, Shen Tang didn’t wait for an answer. She used the spare pillows to mark out a boundary between them.
Meng Huaiyan would sleep at one end, and she at the other. They wouldn’t disturb each other.
As Shen Tang rolled up her sleeves and arranged the pillows, Meng Huaiyan noticed the bite marks on her arm.
They were deep, and some had broken the skin and drawn blood. Against Shen Tang’s fair skin, they looked rather gruesome.
He’d also noticed that she walked a little awkwardly, favoring her right foot. She must have been injured.
She must have gone through a great deal to get him out of that stretch of mountains.
When she had finished, Shen Tang paid no further attention to Meng Huaiyan. She lay down on her side at the outer edge of the bed and soon fell asleep.
Meng Huaiyan, however, tossed and turned.
Counting the time she had saved him from being poisoned, this was the second time she had rescued him.
He had clearly wanted nothing to do with her, yet somehow he was only becoming more and more indebted to her.
And this time, too, he had dragged her into trouble.
Unable to resist, Meng Huaiyan glanced over at Shen Tang. She was already asleep, breathing evenly.
She lay there, small and slight.
She looked frail and a little pitiful, the sort of sight that could easily stir a man’s protective instincts.
And yet this small, slight woman had managed to lead him out of that perilous mountain forest.
Before this, he had thought her a simpering, self-important, hypocritical woman who wanted to marry above her station.
But after what they had been through, she seemed rather different from the person he had imagined.
Meng Huaiyan’s feelings were complicated. He turned his gaze away and closed his eyes.
The girl’s delicate fragrance drifted in through the window with the breeze, wafting straight to his nose and making it itch.
Meng Huaiyan tamped down his unruly thoughts and deliberately ignored Shen Tang’s presence.
She had done him a kindness, but neither her family background nor her looks and temperament were what he wanted in a wife.
He didn’t like her, and he could never return her feelings.
He would repay what he owed her in some other way.
*
Shen Tang slept wonderfully and woke feeling full of energy.
She got out of bed as quietly as she could, but still managed to wake Meng Huaiyan.
“Did I wake you?” Shen Tang asked, a little apologetically.
Meng Huaiyan shook his head. It wasn’t that she had woken him—he hadn’t slept at all that night.
He had always been detached from worldly desires and had no interest in the romantic escapades at the pleasure houses that fascinated men his age.
He had once seen the clients at a pleasure house with his own eyes.
Their eyes were glassy, their faces twisted by lust.
They looked ugly, as if they were being controlled by desire and had lost all restraint.
It disgusted him.
He hated the feeling of being swept up in emotion and losing control. Only when everything was in his own hands did he feel at ease.
Last night had been the first time he had shared a bed with a woman.
She had taken up only a small part of the bed, yet her presence had been impossible to ignore.
The fragrance from her body had lingered around him, faint but constant, making it difficult to pretend she wasn’t there.
Breathing it in, Meng Huaiyan had felt an indescribable restlessness rise through him, as if ants were gnawing at his bones. He simply couldn’t fall asleep.
The feeling of being unable to control himself had left Meng Huaiyan deeply displeased.
Noticing the dark circles under his eyes and his poor complexion, Shen Tang asked in puzzlement, “Did you sleep badly last night?”
A flicker of discomfort crossed Meng Huaiyan’s face. “The bed was too hard. It was uncomfortable.”
Shen Tang couldn’t help thinking that he really was a pampered young master.
“Are you getting up for breakfast, or should I bring it in to you?”
“I’ll get up.”
“Fine.” Shen Tang took out the clothes Liu Yuniang had prepared for Meng Huaiyan from the cabinet and handed them to him.
Meng Huaiyan accepted them.
Shen Tang went out to the kitchen to help Liu Yuniang carry the food to the table.
Breakfast was mung bean porridge, with stir-fried spring bamboo shoots, eggs scrambled with Chinese toon, and a cold dish of lettuce stem.
A little while later, Meng Huaiyan came out, dressed and ready.
Shen Tang and Liu Yuniang both looked over instinctively.
Meng Huaiyan was eight chi tall, with a face as handsome as jade. The coarse linen clothes didn’t make him look shabby; instead, he wore them with an air of easy elegance.
Liu Yuniang couldn’t help saying to Shen Tang, “Your husband is so handsome!”
Shen Tang smiled awkwardly.
At the word “husband,” Meng Huaiyan’s steps faltered briefly. Then, as if nothing had happened, he took the seat to Shen Tang’s right.
The three ate in silence. Shen Tang noticed that Meng Huaiyan only took some of the stir-fried spring bamboo shoots.
He didn’t even glance at the other two dishes.
Only then did Shen Tang realize that both of them contained scallions. She remembered that he didn’t eat scallions.
She pursed her lips to herself. What a picky eater.
After breakfast, Shen Tang offered to wash the dishes, but Liu Yuniang firmly refused to let her. Shen Tang had no choice but to give up.
Meng Huaiyan’s medicine was ready. Shen Tang lifted the lid of the clay pot, and the courtyard was instantly filled with its intense bitterness.
She poured the medicine into a porcelain bowl. It was so dark and thick that just looking at it made Shen Tang’s mouth taste bitter.
She carried the bowl to Meng Huaiyan.
Meng Huaiyan took it and drained it expressionlessly.
Shen Tang couldn’t help clicking her tongue. Meng Huaiyan really was tough—he didn’t even furrow his brow at medicine that bitter.
Shen Tang took the bowl back to the kitchen, then fetched gauze and ointment for external wounds, ready to change Meng Huaiyan’s dressing.
Meng Huaiyan sat on the edge of the bed and took off his shirt.
Shen Tang leaned closer to inspect the wound on his back. It had not yet healed and still looked horrifying.
Afraid of hurting him, Shen Tang moved very gently, carefully spreading the ointment evenly over the wound.
Her fingers were soft against his back, gliding inch by inch over his skin. A strange shiver ran through him.
Meng Huaiyan’s body stiffened. He held his breath, struggling to keep himself composed.
When Shen Tang noticed Meng Huaiyan suddenly tense up, she grew a little nervous. “Did I hurt you? I’ll be even gentler.”
She had leaned close to get a better look at the wound, and as she spoke, her breath brushed over Meng Huaiyan’s back.
The sensation set Meng Huaiyan’s whole body ablaze. He couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft groan.
A faint response stirred in his lower abdomen, too…
Meng Huaiyan’s expression darkened at once. He felt both ashamed and angry.
It was as if he couldn’t bear it.
He raised his hand and pressed hard against the wound on his chest.
The wound had not yet healed. The pressure made blood gush from it, and pain pierced every inch of his skin like needles.
The pain instantly drove away the restlessness that had filled him.
Meng Huaiyan’s gaze was calm, his expression solemn.
He seemed not to feel the pain at all.