Jiang Xingzhou truly bore it, lying awake well past midnight.
Agonizing pain, like being flayed alive, sliced repeatedly through his chest. Only by holding Feng Yi tightly in his arms—so tightly it felt as if he wanted to press her right into his bones—could the ache subside, if only for a brief moment.
So this is how much it hurt for her back then… did she suffer this deeply too?
No watchman’s wooden clapper sounded at the roadside inn outside the city. When Feng Yi woke for the third time, roused by his unconsciously tightening embrace, she gauged the hour by the dwindling glow of the lantern outside the window. It was roughly the fourth watch of the night.
A soft sigh escaped her.
She wrapped both arms around his waist, lifted her head from his chest, and her voice carried the thick warmth of drowsiness. “Lower your head.”
Jiang Xingzhou froze, realizing he had woken her again. Guilty, he leaned down as she asked. Suddenly, a pair of soft, warm lips pressed against his own—only for an instant, gone as quickly as a fleeting illusion. Yet it felt like a divine elixir dropped onto the burning wound in his heart, instantly smoothing away most of the pain as if by magic.
“Go back to sleep,” she murmured, burying her face again into his chest. “We still have a long way to travel at dawn.”
Her voice was so soft.
His eyes burned hot.
Something warm and wet broke free, trickling silently into his hair in the darkness. All he could let out was a low, husky hum. “Mmm, I’m going to sleep now.”
It felt so good. Yi Yi, you can’t bear to see me hurting. In the end… you still can’t stand to watch me grieve too deeply.
Early the next morning, Feng Yi yawned as she prepared her hair. She was not skilled at elaborate updos, so she simply twisted it into a neat bun, securing it with a single hairpin and two pearl blossoms.
Jiang Xingzhou, meanwhile, silently counted over the jewels in his storehouse in his mind, planning to have fine ornaments made for her. Since crafting new pieces would take time, once they returned to the capital, he would first stop at the Treasure Pavilion to buy fashionable ready-made designs.
He picked up the reddest rouge from the dressing box, dipped the tip of a fine brush lightly into it, leaned forward, and gently dotted a tiny beauty mark just below the outer corner of her right eye.
“Does it look nice?” She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes glinting like rippling water.
Feng Yi naturally had a sweet, delicate face, with a touch of youthful innocence. That single dot of rouge instantly added a striking, bewitching charm to her appearance.
Jiang Xingzhou’s breath caught in his throat, and his Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably. If she were not still recovering from illness, he doubted they would have been able to leave the carriage that morning.
“A vision unmatched in all the world,” he said, his voice thick and low.
With that, he lifted his thumb and softly wiped away the red mark.
He did not wish for anyone else to see her looking so enchanting. More importantly, he feared that such a mark might lead her down the same path she had walked in her past life—one that ended when she was only twenty-two.
Later, inside the carriage, Jiang Xingzhou and Feng Yi were playing a game of five stones. She could not beat him at the more complex game of Go.
Jiang Xingzhou deliberately ignored a move that would have secured him an easy win and placed his stone elsewhere instead. Sure enough, he watched her press her lips to hide a small smile, then quickly moved to block the gap he had left open.
Seeing that cat-like look of delight on her face, he could not help but think—where was the trace of someone older than him?
“Wait, I think I placed that last stone wrong,” he feigned sudden realization, reaching out as if to take it back. “Let me redo that move.”
“A move made is a promise kept,” Feng Yi said, stopping his hand with a pout. “No taking it back.”
“Oh? So no regrets once the stone is placed?” Jiang Xingzhou drawled the words, looking at her with a faint, teasing smile.
A flush of pink rose quickly across her cheeks. She herself had already taken back several moves earlier.
“Exactly,” she said, chin raised, unashamed.
“Fair enough,” he replied, but instead of letting go, he simply held her hand firmly in his while continuing to play with his other.
In the end, Feng Yi won the game.
As they gathered the stones back into their container, Jiang Xingzhou asked, “Yi Yi, why did you choose the character ‘Yi’ for your name? Does it carry some special meaning?”
“Put together with my surname, it means ‘smooth sailing and contentment’,” she answered. “I wanted a life of freedom and ease.” At this, she lifted her head and looked him steadily in the eye. “Will you grant me that freedom and peace?”
“I will,” he replied, gazing back without flinching. “As long as you never leave my side, I shall give you anything you ask for.”
They held each other’s gaze in silence for a long moment. Then Feng Yi’s lips twitched into a faint smile, and she lowered her head to finish putting away the game set.
“Yi Yi, once we return, I will go to the Zhao household and formally call off the engagement,” Jiang Xingzhou said, reaching again for her hand. “Truly, I have never wanted any other woman. Do you believe me?”
“I do,” she said without looking up, slipping her hand from his grasp and dropping the last stone into the jar. Suddenly she felt no desire to play further, and slid the board and jar back into the compartment beneath the seat.
From her expression alone, Jiang Xingzhou could tell—she did not believe him.
Feng Yi trusted him, and yet she did not. Perhaps he truly had no other intentions for now, but when his feelings were at their deepest, he had once still chosen to marry a noble lady for the sake of his career. What of the future? Would he take concubines later to strengthen political alliances? Or bring in more women to bear him heirs? Even if he remained faithful now, might he one day grow cold and regret his choice?
“Let us be married when we return,” Jiang Xingzhou said solemnly.
Feng Yi finally raised her head, looking first surprised, then smiling as if indulging a child. “How old are you, to still play such childish games?”
The lightness in her eyes stung him. Jiang Xingzhou reached out and cupped her face in both hands, speaking again with unwavering sincerity. “Yi Yi, I am not joking. Let us be husband and wife. With all the proper rites and ceremonies, and a grand wedding procession—eight bearers carrying your bridal sedan chair. I want to marry you. Will you have me?”
“Stop being foolish,” she said, gently removing his hands from her face. “You should marry a lady from a family of equal standing and status. We are not suited for each other. I can offer you nothing of use.”
Jiang Xingzhou pulled her sharply toward him, settling her firmly across his parted legs and holding her in a tight embrace. “Is that truly what you feel? Or…” His narrow, phoenix-like eyes narrowed further, burning with a stubborn, possessive intensity. “…have you decided you no longer want me? Do you still intend to run away?”
Here we go again—this man and his obsession.
Feng Yi sighed inwardly, leaned forward to press a soft kiss to the center of his brow, and sat upright again, her tone calm and soothing. “Where do you get such silly thoughts? I am right here with you, am I not? Things are fine just as they are now—truly.”
Before he could press further, she quickly lifted the carriage curtain and pointed outside. “Look at that cloud over there. Doesn’t it look exactly like cotton wool?”
At that moment, the carriage suddenly lurched violently. Feng Yi lost her balance and fell backward. Jiang Xingzhou wrapped one arm tightly around her waist and braced his other hand against the carriage wall to steady them.
“Your Grace, Madam—are you both unhurt?” The driver, Qingfeng, called out anxiously. “There was a deep rut in the road just now.”
“We are fine,” Feng Yi called back.
Turning her head, she saw blood trickling from Jiang Xingzhou’s nose—she had bumped right into him when they jolted.
“I suppose I must be too enchanting for you to bear,” she teased, already reaching for a handkerchief.
“Indeed you are,” he replied with a grin, taking the cloth and dabbing the blood away. “So enchanting that you drive this nobleman completely out of his wits.”
The words brought back a shared memory—another time, when she had just recovered from illness and appeared before him, he had suffered a nosebleed and teased her in much the same way. “Does this mean your cousin has finally charmed you senseless, dear cousin?”
They exchanged a look and burst into quiet laughter. The underlying tension that had lingered between them for days melted away in that single moment.
Jiang Xingzhou knew exactly what she was doing—avoiding his questions, changing the subject. And as for clouds, nearly every one looked like cotton wool, if you cared to imagine it.
He sighed to himself. Very well, very well. There was no need to rush. The rest of their lives stretched long ahead, and he had all the time in the world.
As for Feng Yi—since she could not escape him, he would become her strongest shelter. She might let out a sigh of frustration now and then, but she had no real intention of fighting him to the bitter end. Any debt between them, she would collect slowly, over time.
With their minds clearer and lighter, the heavy, gloomy air that had hung over them lifted, swept away silently by the warm sunlight.
Outside, the guards Qingshan and Qingfeng exchanged a glance, both letting out a quiet breath of relief. Qingfeng in particular had been planning to speak with Feng Yi privately, to suggest there was no point in keeping such a cold distance from the Duke—it would only bring pain to both.
By noon, their party stopped to rest beside a clear, glassy lake. Under a bright blue sky, surrounded by green hills and lush grass, it felt more like a leisurely outing than a journey.
In high spirits, Jiang Xingzhou even squatted down to tease little Yangyang, snatching away the tender reed shoot she was chewing. She had grown less afraid of him now; she immediately jumped to her feet, planted her hands on her hips, and puffed out her cheeks in outrage. “Give that back!”
“Call me Uncle-in-Law first, and I shall return it,” he said with a smile.
“Auntie says you are not!”
“I am,” Jiang Xingzhou coaxed gently. “Say it, and I’ll give you a piece of sweet candy as well.”
Yangyang’s round eyes rolled back and forth. She smacked her lips, clearly tempted. Just as everyone thought she was about to give in, she turned sharply, pulled up another reed, popped it into her mouth, and mumbled through her mouthful, “Auntie says you are not, so you are not!”
Jiang Xingzhou raised an eyebrow. “Just as stubborn as your aunt.”
A loud peal of laughter burst from Feng Yi. “That’s my girl!” she praised Yangyang, grinning openly at his defeat. “Auntie will give you a sweet candy later for that.”
The other attendants dared not laugh so freely, but heads bowed low to hide their smiles.
Jiang Xingzhou was not angry in the least. He simply stood and turned back to Feng Yi, his expression softening into a warm, affectionate smile. The gentle breeze of early summer brushed past, and sunlight glinted over her fair face—so bright and lovely it made it nearly impossible to look away.
This man, Feng Yi thought, was far too good at casting spells on her heart.
She turned her eyes away, and linking her arm through He Yun’s, they strolled together along the lakeshore.
“Yun Niang, once we reach the capital, I fear I cannot stay in the same house as you and Yangyang anymore,” Feng Yi said.
“What? But we agreed the three of us would share a home?” He Yun asked, confused.
Feng Yi sighed. “That man says wherever I live, he shall live too.”
Originally, she had planned to rent a place outside the palace or noble estates, away from the rigid rules of the Duke’s residence, so she could easily look after He Yun and her daughter. But Jiang Xingzhou’s intent was clear—he intended to stay by her side, no matter where she went. That made it impossible for He Yun and Yangyang to live with them. With so many political enemies, even a single rumor could easily ruin the lives of He Yun and the child.
“It is all right,” He Yun understood quickly, nodding gently. “It is only hard on you.”
“Not at all,” Feng Yi smiled. “Besides, I asked him to set aside a shop for me. Once we arrive, I shall have it fitted out so you can open your own medical practice.”
“A medical practice?” He Yun’s eyes lit up with hope, though she also looked anxious. “Do you think I am capable?”
“Of course you are,” Feng Yi reassured her, patting her hand. “You brought me back from the very edge of death, remember? We can start slowly, seeing only women and children at first, if that feels safer.”
“Perhaps I shall try then,” He Yun said, her voice growing more confident.
“Trust in yourself,” Feng Yi encouraged.
“What about you, A Yi? What will you do?”
“Me?” Feng Yi picked up a flat stone and sent it skipping across the water, making it bounce several times before sinking. “I have my own plans to see through.”
Just as she had once told Wang Lan—within the narrow limits of the life she was given, she intended to adjust its course, and find a path that would bring her peace and true contentment.
Five days passed in such calm fashion, until the twenty-second day of the fourth lunar month. At their current pace, they would arrive in the capital in another seven or eight days.
Jiang Xingzhou sat holding Feng Yi’s hand, carefully filing and shaping her fingernails, trimming them short and smoothing each into a neat, rounded curve.
She raised her left hand to inspect the result. “They look quite smooth and even, though perhaps a little too short.”
“Better short,” he replied, his lips curving into a mischievous smile, his eyes glinting with warmth. “That way, they won’t leave scratches down my back later.”
Feng Yi blinked in surprise.
“Yi Yi, your monthly flow finished two days ago,” he added, leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear.
“Jiang Lingyuan!” she cried, lifting her foot to stomp on his. He had expected it, and shifted lightly out of reach.
When he finished the last nail, he blew away the fine dust and held her hand gently in his palm. She had a delicate frame, and though her fingers were slender, they were also soft and fleshy—warm and pleasant to hold, stirring a deep tenderness in his heart.
“Would you like me to paint your nails with lacquer?” he asked. Her nails were long and narrow, and would look exquisite with color.
“Not this time,” she shook her head. They had left in such haste that the lacquer bought in the nearest town was of colors she did not care for.
As they spoke, the sound of rapid galloping hooves came from behind.
“Your Grace! Urgent dispatch from the capital!”
Jiang Xingzhou set down the nail file and stepped out of the carriage, returning a short while later. “Yi Yi, there has been some business requiring my attention in the capital. I shall ride ahead at speed. Qingfeng will escort you and the rest slowly behind.”
Feng Yi pushed down the surge of joy rising in her chest and looked at him with feigned concern. “Is it serious?”
“Nothing that cannot be handled.”
He gazed at her deeply, as if reading the true thoughts in her heart, and then leaned in to claim her lips in a fierce, possessive kiss—holding her until she was breathless, her face flushed and her body going limp in his arms.
Only when Qingshan tapped sharply on the carriage window did he finally pull back. “Your Grace, your things are ready.”
Jiang Xingzhou rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily, and whispered low in her ear. “Yi Yi—do not even think of running. If I reach the capital and you are not there, you know exactly what I will do.”
“Be good, and do not leave me.”