“What did you say the name was?” Jiang Xingzhou asked again, as if unable to believe his ears, his voice trembling slightly, and his arms tightening around her unconsciously.
“Jichuan Bookstore.” Noticing his strange reaction, Feng Yi lifted her head from his embrace. “Is there something wrong with this name?”
She worried she might have chosen something that went against tradition or taboos.
“Nothing is wrong at all.” He lowered his gaze, tracing the lines of her face filled with complete trust, his heart softening beyond measure. “Why… did you pick this name?”
“Hmm…” Feng Yi smiled, her dimples deepening faintly, her clear eyes meeting his, which shone with anticipation. “Because ‘Xingzhou crosses the river’—may you sail smoothly, with a vast sea and open sky ahead.”
Even though her feelings for him were no longer as pure as before, she still wished for his path to be smooth and unobstructed.
Jiang Xingzhou stared at her for a long time, his eyes growing warm and glistening.
“Yi Yi,” he called her, his voice as gentle as the spring breeze in March. “Close your eyes.”
He leaned down and kissed her with the utmost tenderness.
Jichuan.
That was the courtesy name his mother had chosen for him on her deathbed. But when he turned twelve and passed the imperial examination at the scholar level, requiring an official courtesy name, he had rejected it and chosen “Linyuan,” the name given by his respected teacher. He felt that he was born in the depths of an abyss and raised in dark ravines, already accustomed to staring into shadows. Such bright, hopeful aspirations felt too extravagant and too ironic for someone like him.
He did not deserve it.
Yet the two most important women in his life—one who gave him life, and one who had given him a chance to be reborn—both wished, without knowing it, that he might sail his ship across the vast sea.
He gently sucked at her lips, his tongue moving slowly and carefully, full of patience and soft invitation.
This time, it was not about conquest, but about drawing her closer.
Feng Yi’s hands found their way to his neck, and the measuring tape slipped from her fingers. His tenderness was so overwhelming that it disarmed her defenses, and she found herself responding instinctively. Her lips parted slightly, letting him in.
With her silent consent, Jiang Xingzhou deepened the kiss eagerly, tangling his tongue with hers. Feng Yi matched his passion, responding in kind, like two fish playing in the water.
Gradually, gentleness was no longer enough to calm the surging waves of desire inside him—he wanted more.
He placed one hand behind her head and wrapped the other tightly around her waist, turning her gently until she was pressed against the sandalwood wardrobe behind them. The kiss grew deeper, faster, and more intense, filled with possession and longing, sucking hard as if he wanted to swallow every trace of her scent and breath.
The soft, wet sounds of their mouths mingled with quiet swallowing and her own involuntary whimpers echoed through the quiet room, heavy with intimacy.
When oxygen ran out, Feng Yi finally surrendered, going limp and leaning against him to keep from sliding down.
“Yi Yi…” Jiang Xingzhou brushed his lips lightly over her swollen, reddened mouth, his voice rough and husky, laced with breathless temptation. “Shall we?”
Her mind was already foggy and slow, unable to process what he was asking. She simply looked up at him, her eyes glistening, filled only with hazy, unfocused warmth.
Seeing her completely unguarded, innocent yet alluring expression:
She was a string plucking at his heart, making it tremble.
A feather brushing against his chest, stirring an unbearable itch.
The sweetest poison in the world, making him crave more.
And also the most soothing medicine, healing all his wounds and bringing comfort for the rest of his days.
His body tensed like a bow drawn to its limit, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard. He pressed his lips even closer, and without waiting for her answer, murmured his longing against her skin:
“Yi Yi… I want you…”
“…I want you so badly it feels like madness…”
“…I ache for you down to my very bones…”
Broken phrases mixed with his burning breath melted into her skin and seared themselves into her confused consciousness.
He suddenly lifted her up. Before she could even gasp, his lips followed to meet hers again.
The sudden lift made Feng Yi instinctively wrap her legs around his waist. In an instant, their bodies pressed firmly against each other through the thin fabric of their clothes, both throbbing with the same need.
“Yi Yi… Yi Yi…” He rested his forehead against hers, whispering pleas, like a child begging for sweets.
“You’re still injured,” she reminded him, and was surprised to hear how soft and breathy her own voice sounded.
“It’s fine,” Jiang Xingzhou said, his eyes burning bright and intense. “You checked yourself—the scabs have fallen off, the swelling has gone down. With just a little more rest, there won’t even be scars.”
He was not a hardened criminal; the lashes he had received the other day were smooth and left only superficial wounds.
Feng Yi looked into his eyes, which were filled with a deep, overwhelming tide of emotion that threatened to pull her under, and whispered her agreement: “Yes.”
Desire was part of human nature, and she was only human. Besides, the man before her was breathtakingly handsome, knew exactly what he was doing, and was someone she had once loved deeply.
She had to admit—she wanted him too.
He carried her in long strides toward the bed in the inner chamber. As he walked, he buried his face in the slender curve of her neck, his lips and teeth roaming over her fair, smooth skin, sucking and biting gently, leaving a trail of tiny, rosy marks.
In her dazed state, Feng Yi thought that Jiang Xingzhou truly seemed to love biting her, as if marking what belonged to him. It did not hurt, but it brought a teasing, unbearable warmth that spread straight to her core.
He laid her down gently upon the soft blankets, her neck already dotted with little red blossoms.
Jiang Xingzhou reached into the drawer beside the bed, took out a small sky-blue porcelain vial, bit off the stopper, poured out a pill, and swallowed it. Then he replaced the stopper and put it back.
“That contraceptive pill takes two quarters of an hour to work,” Feng Yi said. “If you take it now, will it be in time?”
Being questioned about his stamina, Jiang Xingzhou’s eyes narrowed with a hint of danger. He leaned over her immediately, casting her in his shadow.
“Rest assured,” he said, his fingers deftly untying the silk sash around her waist. “I won’t release anything for at least half an hour.”
He leaned down, his breath brushing against her ear and sending shivers down her spine. “And by then… even if you beg me to stop, crying and pleading, I won’t hold back.”
Her clothes fell to the floor and piled at the foot of the bed.
He nipped gently at the sensitive skin behind her ear, then soothed the spot with his warm tongue. The marks traveled from her earlobe down to her jawline, winding and blooming like flowers.
Once he was sure she was fully ready, he pushed himself up on his arms and hovered above her.
“Yi Yi.”
“Hmm?”
Jiang Xingzhou smiled softly. “Later, when you dig your nails into my back, remember to be gentle. The new skin is still tender and can’t take too much scratching.”
“Jiang Linyuan!” Feng Yi flushed bright red and glared at him in feigned anger.
“I’m here,” he replied, and before she could say another word, he buried his face into her neck once more.
Inside the warm curtains, springtime bloomed. The soft rustle of fabric and quiet sighs rose and fell, while the crescent moon outside slipped behind the clouds and refused to come out again.
“Is this… all right?”
“Sometimes you want me slow, sometimes you want me fast…” he murmured against her skin, his breathing ragged yet still amused. “Yi Yi, what exactly do you want? Perhaps… I should stop and let you think it through clearly?”
“Jiang Linyuan… you beast!”
“All right, all right… I was wrong, I won’t stop… be good, don’t pinch me…”
In Great Zhou, the fifth and tenth days of each month were official rest days.
On the last day of the fourth month, the weather turned gloomy, and a light drizzle fell steadily.
Both Jiang Xingzhou and Feng Yi lingered in bed—he because he did not want to get up, and she because she could not. The night before, he had been like a man possessed, and by the end she had been too breathless to speak.
He gazed quietly at the woman sleeping soundly in his arms, a satisfied smile curving his lips, his heart filled with a deep, steady warmth he had never felt before.
Twisting a strand of her black hair around his finger, he mentally calculated the auspicious dates in the sixth month, planning to marry her before the seventh month arrived. The seventh lunar month was considered a yin month, unsuitable for weddings, and if he missed it, he would have to wait until the eighth.
Once he had settled on the wedding date, he began planning her dowry. He could not give her everything from his mother’s dowry, as those properties had long been recorded publicly—this was why Jiang Shaoguang and the Qin clan had never dared to claim them. But he could take part of them as the betrothal gift and then add them back to her dowry. He also selected all his own holdings that were suitable for a woman to manage and transferred them into her name.
No one would ever look down on her on his watch.
Feng Yi opened her eyes, still heavy with sleep, and instinctively snuggled deeper into his embrace. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
“Noon?” She jolted, trying to sit up, only to collapse back down with a soft gasp, her limbs feeling weak and sore.
Jiang Xingzhou let out a low, rumbling laugh from his chest.
Feng Yi slapped his chest lightly. “You dare laugh! This is all your fault… now we can’t go and inspect the estates today.”
“It’s raining anyway—we couldn’t have gone out,” he said, catching her restless hand and holding it in his. “If you trust me, I can choose one for you. Would that be all right?”
“Fine,” she pouted, giving in. She knew Jiang Xingzhou never did things halfway; whatever he took on, he would do thoroughly and properly. In that regard, she trusted him completely.
Satisfied, he pulled her closer, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head.
“For the printing workshop, I’ve chosen Bamboo Listening Estate. It is surrounded by bamboo forests, sits on vast land with few neighbors—private and quiet, yet still close to the capital.”
“As for the courtyard for editing and the shopfront, there are two good options. The first is in Osmanthus Lane in the Eastern District. It has a shop in front and a courtyard behind, with two separate sections. It is only one street away from the busiest stretch of East Prosperity Avenue—quiet yet well located, ideal for your needs.”
“The second is a shop at the far end of East Prosperity Avenue, paired with Orchid Courtyard in Clear Water Lane, about half a li away. Travel between them is still convenient. If the rain stops this afternoon, I’ll take you to see both for yourself, and you can make the final choice.”
As she got up to dress, Feng Yi caught sight of the marks scattered across her skin from the night before. She mouthed silently, “You beast.”
Unbeknownst to her, Jiang Xingzhou, who was carefully tying the sash of her robe, happened to glance up and read the words on her lips.
“Yi Yi, are you saying I did not satisfy you last night?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with mischief. He loosened his own inner robe and pointed to the faint red scratches on his chest and arms. “But if you were not happy, what do you call these?”
“Of course I wasn’t happy,” Feng Yi replied, her ears turning red as she stubbornly held her ground. “Otherwise, why would I scratch you?”
Jiang Xingzhou leaned closer, his fingers brushing the edge of her robe. “Then… shall we continue? I won’t leave this bed until you are fully satisfied. How does that sound?”
“I’m afraid you’ll wear yourself out,” she retorted, pulling her robe closed firmly and hurrying toward the dressing table.
Jiang Xingzhou watched her almost fleeing, a soft, indulgent smile playing on his lips as he finished dressing at a leisurely pace.
Walking into the outer room, he saw her pick up a small white porcelain vial from the vanity, pour out a pill, and swallow it with water. His heart tightened, and he strode over quickly. “What medicine are you taking?”
“Stomach medicine,” Feng Yi replied calmly, looking up.
“Does your stomach hurt?” He frowned. They had stayed up late the night before, and knowing she might miss breakfast, he had ordered Leisure Wine to prepare a bowl of noodles for her. Afterward, he had even coaxed her into a little more activity to “aid digestion” before they fell asleep. How could she be feeling unwell now?
“Not badly,” she said, setting down the cup, her tone light. “Just taking it as a precaution. Don’t worry.”
Jiang Xingzhou studied her composed profile, then relaxed and let the matter drop without further questions.