Li Miaomiao moved carefully, paying close attention to every sound in the house.
She heard the clatter of chopsticks and the faint slurping of noodles, followed by the crisp sound of the chopsticks being set down on the bowl.
Before Xiao Xian could speak, she walked in.
She took the bowl and saw it empty—every last bit gone. A small, sweet smile curved her lips.
Hiding her expression, she asked the man, “How does it taste?”
Seeing a flicker of expectation in her eyes, Xiao Xian wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and casually replied, “Edible.”
Li Miaomiao: “….”
Well, she was asking for trouble. She wouldn’t ask again.
Carrying the bowl and the tung oil lamp, she turned to leave.
Just as she was about to step out, a cold, distant voice came from behind her:
“You’ll sleep next door from now on.”
Li Miaomiao paused. Last night, the original Li Miaomiao had slept in his room while he had spent the night on a bench in the main hall.
Without today’s little scheme, Xiao Xian might have just wanted a quiet life too, right?
She replied, “Understood.”
After tidying the kitchen, she went to the room next to Xiao Xian’s and pushed gently.
The door creaked.
A stench like hundreds of sweaty feet crammed into a small room in the August heat hit her nose.
Her stomach churned. She covered her mouth, shining the tung oil lamp into the room.
The place was filthy and suffocating, the blankets piled haphazardly beside the bed. Calling it a mini dump would have been generous.
How had the two servants slept here before?
Xiao Xian had had two servants, but yesterday, the original Li Miaomiao had sent them away for lacking silver.
She exhaled deeply, inhaled fresh air, held her breath, and went in.
Half an hour later, the room was clean and orderly.
The sweat-soaked blankets were stuffed into a wooden tub outside the kitchen. She stepped back and surveyed the contents.
Though the room was clean, the odor would take days to air out.
She sighed. She could endure it.
She went to the first room on the left, opened a small wooden box, and sighed at its contents.
Li Family had provided nothing with the dowry except for eight chests.
And the eight chests brought back were all filled with rocks.
Only ten copper coins and a set of faded everyday clothes were left by the original Li Miaomiao. She took out the clothes, locked the wooden box in the dowry chest, and returned to the kitchen.
She blew out the lamp, drew a basin of cold water, and washed herself.
March water was bone-chilling. Teeth gritting, she wrung out the cloth and shook it over her body.
Shivering, she carried the relit tung oil lamp back to the room.
The bed had only a layer of dry, sweat-soaked straw.
She inhaled sharply, almost suffocating.
She tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
In the middle of the night, she suddenly sat up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“I can’t take this!”
Xiao Xian, sensitive to sound, was just a wall away.
He could hear every rustle from the next room.
Lying like a corpse, he listened to the continuous noises from next door.
His eyes, which hadn’t blinked once at the tattered mosquito net, finally moved.
Is she a mouse?
A moment later, footsteps approached the door.
He lowered his gaze. There came a soft knock:
“Knock knock knock. Xiao Xian, are you asleep?”
His warm peach-blossom eyes darkened, a swirl of blackness in their depths, his whole body lifeless.
He stared silently at the door, offering no reply.
The northwestern night wind howled like frost-laced knives, biting at the skin.
Li Miaomiao rubbed her face and, hearing nothing, murmured, “He must be asleep.”
She gently pushed open the door and tiptoed in.
“Sorry for disturbing you.”
She moved like a thief, closing the door as quietly as possible, afraid to wake him.
The moon was hidden by clouds, plunging the room into darkness.
Xiao Xian’s vision was excellent. He watched Li Miaomiao, standing upright like a rabbit, inch her way onto the bed.
He noticed her rough, thin hand on the bed’s edge.
A wave of irritation surged through him.
Li Miaomiao, unaware she was being observed, couldn’t see anything in the dark.
Perhaps the neighboring room’s stench had dulled her senses—she even smelled a faint scent of soap in this room.
She found the corner of a thin blanket hanging by the bed and traced it to the headboard.
Bending over, she spoke softly:
“Xiao Xian, the room next door reeks of sweat. I’ll stay here for a few nights. Once the blankets are dry, I’ll return.”
Their breaths mingled, steady and slightly quickened, without a hint of intimacy.
“If you stay silent, I’ll take that as consent.”
Warm breath brushed her ear, but Xiao Xian’s heart remained unmoved.
After a moment, Li Miaomiao removed her shoes and climbed up.
With him sleeping outside, she had to climb over him to get into the bed.
She leaned forward, her upper body over him, hands inside the bed, feet on the edge, ready to place them in.
A cold, teasing voice rang out:
“Like climbing into bed, do you?”
Li Miaomiao stiffened, turning her head toward him. Though she couldn’t see, her ears weren’t deaf.
She could hear the sarcasm, clearly.
This man had heard her complain about the other room’s stench and still teased her—there was no way to get along nicely.
Fine. She wouldn’t pretend.
Smiling faintly, she said, “Climbing into my husband’s bed is only natural.”
The room seemed to chill instantly. Let him be angry—she could still sleep.
She stepped over, lifted the blanket, and lay down beside him.
By midnight, Li Miaomiao was exhausted. Even the cold, sharp-eyed man beside her couldn’t stop her from sleeping.
Yawning, she closed her eyes.
The sudden presence of a person next to him made Xiao Xian unbearably tense. His face lost all trace of false warmth, his eyes cold as blades.
His sharp brows looked even more severe.
Steady breathing filled the room.
He pinched the stone hidden under the sheets, its sound icy.
“Get off!”
Li Miaomiao opened her eyes, turning slightly to face him. Her words were firm:
“No… I… can.”
As she finished, the stone spun twice in his hand.
Looking for death!
He raised his left hand slowly, murderous intent rising.
Then, a slender arm wrapped around his waist, lightly patting him.
Warm breath and soft words whispered in his neck:
“I’ll move back once the blankets are dry. Can you endure a few days?”
“I’m so tired… let’s sleep.”
Her hand tightened slightly around his waist, forehead resting gently on his shoulder as she closed her eyes.
The room was still as death. Even with his right arm numb under her weight, he didn’t move.
He glanced at her not-so-beautiful face, her sweet, comforting words still echoing in his ears.
He placed his left hand outside the bed. The stone crumbled to fine sand, falling from his fingers.
Only after his fingers were empty did he withdraw his gaze from the mosquito net. He stared at it for a full tea-time before finally closing his eyes.
Fine. He’d let her live a few more days.