Her voice was soft, but Xiao Xian’s hearing was keen. His thin lips parted, calmly uttering a single word:
“As for that.”
Li Miaomiao pursed her lips in exasperation. I’m not some ravenous wolf, she thought.
“I’m not that desperate,” she muttered.
“You do have standards,” he replied, a subtle jab at her for choosing him out of all the men yesterday.
Li Miaomiao bit her inner lip, then squinted at his lower half, a mischievous smile lighting her face.
“Too bad my eyesight isn’t very good.”
What exactly was “not very good”? She let him figure it out for himself.
Xiao Xian’s gaze darkened—she was provoking him.
Sensing the chill radiating from him, Li Miaomiao’s mood soared. She slipped off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, seeing him reach for a water cup on the low table.
Her mind sparked with an idea.
“I know what to do.”
Hands and one foot on the bed, the other foot bracing against the edge, she positioned herself as if she were sitting on Xiao Xian.
Hearing her sudden movements, Xiao Xian lost all interest in drinking.
Regarding her improper posture, he said coldly: “Get in.”
Li Miaomiao realized this wasn’t quite right. Thinking of his discomfort, she climbed down and blew out the tung oil lamp.
When she climbed back up, she aimed to step in smoothly, but Xiao Xian had rolled onto his side, his knee hitting her ankle.
She lost her balance, a startled cry escaping her lips as she nearly fell.
A pair of strong hands grabbed her shoulders, flipping her safely onto the bed.
Startled, she thought he was going to throw her off.
She tried to plant her feet on the blankets but slipped, ending up straddling Xiao Xian’s thighs.
Her face flushed. Wasn’t I saying I’m not desperate? And now this happens?
In the few seconds she processed the situation, Xiao Xian’s expression darkened further.
“Can’t bear to leave?” he asked.
Li Miaomiao had intended to leave, but he had to tease her, so she shot back:
“I might not want to leave a strong man, but there’s no need for you. I’m afraid of getting styes.”
She deliberately glanced downward.
Styes?
Xiao Xian’s gaze darkened. She was challenging his dignity as a man.
As she tried to rise, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her down, his voice dangerous:
“You’ll have to try to see if that’s true.”
Being pressed down, Li Miaomiao’s position became precarious. She struggled, but it only worsened.
A blush spread from her neck to her ears, her heart and lips trembling in sync.
“Xiao Xian… let go of me!”
He pulled her upper body toward him. Their eyes met, only a fist apart.
Her hands were pinned behind her back. Looking at his grip on her waist, she felt it might break.
Pain shot through her, her eyes watering.
“Xiao Xian, let me go.”
He used barely any force, yet she nearly cried. Such a delicate girl, he thought.
“Li Miaomiao, I told you—stop provoking me!”
He released her hands, letting her collapse onto the bed like a fragile rabbit, then turned onto his side to sleep.
Li Miaomiao massaged her waist, puffed out her cheeks, glaring at his back.
If it weren’t for the pain, she would have dealt with him tonight.
Pulling the blanket over herself, she turned to sleep back-to-back with him.
There was no place for her in that house anymore, so she had no intention of returning home. Three days later, on market day, she needed to finish her work.
After breakfast, she went to the back hill to cut wood. With no shovel, she ground inch by inch with her chopping knife.
Every day, she hammered and polished in the yard while Xiao Xian counted his stones in the room.
Apart from eating and sleeping, they left each other alone.
Even on the final night, she was still busy outside. Without a chisel, she smoothed surfaces with horsetail grass.
As for dinner, since Xiao Xian had told her not to provoke him, she didn’t seek trouble.
She had no time anyway; let him cook or not, whatever.
Facing away from the door, she used horsetail grass diligently, unaware of when Xiao Xian had entered the kitchen.
By the time she finished, it was late night. She brushed the box inside and out with dry straw, then placed it in a prepared backpack lined with straw to avoid scratches.
In the past, she had often worked through the night on custom furniture for clients.
Once starving, hunger faded from her mind; she didn’t even enter the kitchen, just drew water to wash her face and feet.
Xiao Xian’s room was on the left side of the main hall; anyone entering had to pass through it.
She was ready to sleep when she noticed the tung oil lamp still burning in the hall. By its dim light, she saw a bowl beside it.
Curious, she stepped closer.
It was a bowl of porridge.
Li Miaomiao blinked, puzzled.
“When did he cook this?”
She looked through the door; moonlight streamed through the window, a few silvery beams illuminating the bed.
She could faintly make out his face—a gentle, refined young man, but with a sharp, critical mouth.
She pursed her lips, went to the table, and ate the porridge alone.
After one mouthful, she paused, glancing back toward the door.
“He added… lard.”
Porridge with lard had a distinct, savory aroma, far tastier than plain porridge.
Li Miaomiao stared at the bowl, recalling his words:
“Do you know how my legs were broken?”
“You only know the name Xiao Xian. Nothing else.”
Her brow furrowed. Aside from his name, she truly knew nothing about him.
At dawn, she got up to cook and pack for the market.
The county they went to, Wuhe, was over an hour from Li Family Village, so villagers typically left at six in the morning.
She pocketed ten copper coins and placed Xiao Xian’s breakfast on the table.
Planning to leave immediately, she paused, then approached his room. Her crisp voice softened slightly:
“I’m going to the market. Breakfast is on the table—eat after you wake up.”
Hearing the door open, Xiao Xian slowly opened his eyes, his dark gaze fixed on the mosquito net, a complicated look in his eyes.
Better not come back.
By the time Li Miaomiao reached the village entrance, villagers were leaving in small groups. She just needed to follow them.
Aunt Liu and Aunt Fatty were going too. After the past few days, they were a little wary of her.
“Li Miaomiao, you’re going to the market too?”
Previously, the original Li Miaomiao never went. She replied lightly and moved to the back of the group.
Aunt Liu saw she didn’t want to talk and stopped speaking.
Most villagers walked to the market; only a few had donkey carts, which were mainly for hauling goods. Everyone else walked.