Pei Shuyi blinked, waiting for him to continue.
Jiang Congli took half a step back only after confirming that Pei Shuyi showed no intention of leaving again, though his hand remained unrelenting.
“For these next two weeks,” he said, looking into her eyes, word by word, “we’ll interact normally. You’ll get to know me, and I’ll get to know you.”
“After half a month—”
He paused.
“If you’re still interested in me by then, I’ll give you a clear answer.”
The night wind surged up from the valley, rustling the ginkgo leaves loudly.
Pei Shuyi leaned against the doorframe, tilting her head to look at him.
In the twilight, the man’s expression remained as rigid and serious as ever.
His brows slightly furrowed, his thin lips pressed together, as if their conversation had been about solving some major problem.
“Jiang Congli,” she called his name, a hint of laughter in her voice, “aren’t you afraid I’ll lose interest in you after half a month?”
Any man would seize the opportunity to press his advantage now.
Jiang Congli’s brows furrowed slightly, as if he hadn’t anticipated this scenario.
He was silent for a few seconds.
“That’s my concern,” he said.
Pei Shuyi blinked.
“Whether you remain interested in me or not…” Jiang Congli’s voice was neither too loud nor too soft, as if stating an objective fact.
“Depends on me.”
“If I fail to hold your interest, that’s my problem.”
Pei Shuyi straightened slightly from her leaning position against the doorframe.
Suddenly, she felt Jiang Congli’s proposal of this half-month period was unnecessary.
But there was no helping it—the man before her seemed rather old-fashioned.
He insisted on following this procedure.
“So.”
“These two weeks aren’t about you waiting for my response.”
“It’s about me trying to keep you interested in me.”
Pei Shuyi’s heart skipped a beat.
Since childhood, she had heard too many sweet words.
While studying abroad, those fair-haired, blue-eyed boys would say things like “You are my sun” or “I’d die without you,” their words sweeter than anyone else’s. Yet later, when her father passed away, they all turned and ran faster than anyone else.
If it weren’t for her brother Pei Yanxiao these past few years, she would have long left this world.
But Pei Yanxiao was a cold-blooded machine. Though he would pull you back from the gates of hell, he would never utter such tender words.
Pei Shuyi took a deep breath, forcing back the rising tide of emotion.
She straightened up from the doorframe, took a step closer to him, tilted her head, and let her gaze linger on his face for a long while.
“Jiang Congli,” she called him.
He looked at her.
“Do you know,” her voice as light as the wind, “you’re really quite rigid.”
Jiang Congli fell silent for a moment.
He understood what Pei Shuyi meant.
“Well then, these two weeks will depend on your performance,” Pei Shuyi said.
“Alright,” Jiang Congli replied quickly, as if he had been waiting for her to say this for a long time.
The next morning, the thin mist had yet to disperse, and the birds of Qingtan Mountain were chirping merrily.
Pei Shuyi’s guest room was named “Cloud Perch Chamber,” and its layout was rather unique.
Inside were two bedrooms—one occupied by Pei Shuyi and the other by Aunt He.
The following day.
Aunt He had just finished washing up when she heard a gentle but firm knock at the door.
She dried her hands and went to open it, finding Jiang Congli standing outside.
The morning mist still lingered, and the dawn at Qingtan Mountain carried the distinct chill of late autumn.
He wore a dark gray thin sweater, its sleeves casually pushed up to his forearms, and held a food box in his hand.
Aunt He was taken aback for a moment. “Mr. Jiang…”
Jiang Congli gave a slight nod. “I came to see if she’s awake yet.”
Aunt He opened her mouth, wanting to say that the young lady never wakes before ten o’clock, and that she has quite the temper when roused.
Seeing Aunt He standing thoughtfully at the door without moving, Jiang Congli spoke again. “She hasn’t fully recovered. I had someone prepare medicinal food this morning—it’s best eaten while warm.”
Upon hearing this reason, Aunt He immediately stepped aside to let him pass.
The young lady’s health was always the top priority.
“Please wait a moment, sir. The young lady is still asleep. I’ll go in and wake her.”
Jiang Congli nodded. “Thank you.”
Before long, intermittent grumbles of reluctance could be heard from the small side room where Pei Shuyi was resting.
“Aunt He, what time is it? Stop bothering me.”
“No, please leave.”
“I haven’t slept enough…”
A few seconds later, Aunt He retreated awkwardly, offering Jiang Congli an embarrassed smile. “Mr. Jiang, the young lady… might not be in the best state today. Perhaps you could leave the food box here, and when she wakes—”
“It’s fine. I’ll wake her,” Jiang Congli interrupted her.
The man placed the food box on the table and strode inside.
Aunt He raised her hand halfway, too late to stop him.
The light in Pei Shuyi’s room was dim, the curtains drawn tightly, with only a few slivers of morning light seeping through the door crack.
The air was thick with the scent of medicine and her own crisp, cool fragrance, blending together into an inseparable mix.
At a glance, the bed was covered by a tightly wrapped cocoon of blankets, revealing only a few strands of long hair scattered on the pillow and half a face buried in it.
The woman’s breathing was long and even, completely unaware that someone had entered.
Jiang Congli first stood at the bedroom door and knocked.
Knock, knock, knock—
Pei Shuyi pulled the blanket up a little higher.
The small gesture did not escape Jiang Congli’s notice, and a faint smile touched the corner of his lips.
Realizing that calling from outside the door likely wouldn’t rouse her, he took a step forward and entered the room.
Two seconds later, he stood by the bed, looking down at the woman who had wrapped herself into a silkworm cocoon.
He watched her for a few seconds before reaching out to gently tug at the corner of the blanket.
The person beneath the blanket stirred, mumbling something indistinctly, then tightened the blanket around herself, turned over, and faced away from him.
Jiang Congli tugged at the blanket again.
This time, Pei Shuyi reacted more strongly.
She abruptly pulled the blanket over her head, shrinking entirely under the covers, her muffled voice emerging from within. “Aunt He, I told you not to bother me—”
…
“Shuyi.”
“It’s me.”
Jiang Congli spoke.