The room had long been prepared with everything needed for washing. Outside the window, Jiaojiao heard the rustling sound of water. Its master was timid and never extinguished the lights before sleeping at night.
After a while, when all movement inside had ceased, Jiaojiao stopped making a fuss, indulgently allowing its master a good night’s rest.
“Qiongxian Garden” was never guarded at night. In the middle of the night, Ting Yuan sneaked in and peered through the floral window at the bedroom, feeling deeply perplexed. Light footsteps fell behind him, and someone propped their back against his, whispering, “What’s the situation?”
Ting Yuan made a gesture, signaling to talk further away.
The two scurried back to their own small courtyard like thieves. Once the door was closed and the candle lit, the person turned around—it was Yan Chao.
He asked, “Shen the Fifth didn’t come out?”
Ting Yuan shook his head.
Yan Chao frowned, “The eyes and ears sent by other families have all been eliminated. Why does the Master need to play out this farce of ‘happy newlyweds’? I find myself increasingly unable to guess the Master’s intentions.”
Ting Yuan said, “There’s no reward money for guessing right. The Master does as he pleases; is it for you or me to interfere?”
Yan Chao gave a cold scoff, “Do you dare say you didn’t try to dissuade him when the Master first proposed marrying Shen the Fifth?”
Ting Yuan: “…”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to talk him out of it! It was just that he hadn’t succeeded!
Shen Quebai was awakened by the white hawk outside the window. He yawned, lifted his eyelids to look to the side, and saw Zhu Hexing with his hands folded over his waist, looking like a pine tree buried in snow.
Last night, the two of them had called each other “Husband” and “Young Master” for half the night, but even if two more people had lain between them on the bed, it would have been no problem. They had been so careful that they were afraid their own quilt corners would touch the other person.
The boundary was clearly drawn.
Shen Quebai emerged from the warm bedding and crawled carefully toward the foot of the bed.
The bed was made of nanmu wood, intricately carved with bird-and-flower patterns. On the bed edge, peonies were carved in relief with magpies in pairs—the craftsmanship was so exquisite they looked alive.
Shen Quebai reached out to stroke the carving of a magpie, when suddenly his ankle was tightly gripped.
Shen Quebai rolled to his side abruptly, meeting Zhu Hexing’s gaze.
Zhu Hexing had been awake for a while, squinting his eyes in drowsiness.
Shen Quebai had been exhausted all day yesterday. At night, he had entered a strange house and climbed onto a strange bed, with a man he held old grudges against lying right beside him yet, he had been completely defenseless, sleeping soundly. In the middle of the night, he even mumbled and snored, asking to eat fish-silk noodles and emphasizing three times that they must be spicy.
In contrast, Zhu Hexing had tossed and turned on his own turf for half the night and couldn’t fall asleep. Shen Quebai’s sleeping posture was very proper, his breathing steady, but to Zhu Hexing’s ears, it was still a booming thunder that he couldn’t ignore.
He had thrown out an ambiguous warning and a “soft blade,” only to end up having it backfire and cut his own neck.
Zhu Hexing was in a foul mood and, at this moment, was gripping Shen Quebai to keep him from leaving—little did he know that Shen Quebai had a terrible temper upon waking, and with one roll, he unleashed a kick.
The force was great; a direct hit would have broken a rib. Zhu Hexing dodged to the side while simultaneously lifting the silk quilt, wrapping Shen Quebai up like a piece of sugar-dipped fruit.
With his hands and feet bound, Shen Quebai rolled to the side, following the momentum of Zhu Hexing’s force. Zhu Hexing pressed down from behind; his voice still carried lethargy, but his grip on Shen Quebai’s chin was firm.
“Your temper is too big.”
Shen Quebai took his criticism as a compliment. His Adam’s apple rolled as he pressed against Zhu Hexing’s palm, sliding out a syrupy, clingy complaint, “Husband, be gentle. You’ve left another mark on me.”
Ting Yuan, who had just approached the room, froze in his tracks. A jolt of numbness shot from his spine to the crown of his head; he was stunned.
Be gentle? Again!
Master! What exactly are you two doing in there!
The opportunistic Jiaojiao took the chance to spread its wings and rewarded him with a loud, ringing slap to the face.
“Is that so? Let me see.” Inside the room, Zhu Hexing let go and told Shen Quebai to turn his face. He squinted at that slender neck, and sure enough, there was a fresh red mark, vibrant and delicate.
“So fragile,” he criticized again.
Shen Quebai raised an eyebrow at these words, looking somewhat like a cat that wasn’t overly pampered but had developed a petulant grace. He was hidden under the thin, embroidered quilt; his face and neck were whiter than the silk, making his features even more distinct. His brows were curved like willow branches, concealing a composed sharpness beneath his handsome appearance—just like that red-sheathed blade. Before it was unsheathed, who could feel the bone-scraping coldness of the blade?
His eyes held Zhu Hexing, but they also hid the red-sheathed blade, which was currently positioned right at Zhu Hexing’s throat, though his speech remained soft, “I have a maid who has served me for a long time; I would like to ask you to give your approval to bring her into the estate.”
Shen Quebai was only a few months away from reaching adulthood. Living alone in Chaotian City with a face that invited butterflies and bees, goodness knows how colorful his bedroom life had been. Zhu Hexing naturally thought the worst, saying, “You married in yesterday, and today you want to bring in your concubine-maid? Are you afraid people can’t see the green light on my head clearly enough?”
“You misunderstand, Your Highness.” Shen Quebai was serious now, explaining, “The maid’s name is Hua Wu. She is a pure and innocent girl, as gentle and sensible as I am. She will never violate your rules; I beg for your grace.”
“Hmm…” Zhu Hexing glanced at the red mark on his neck and let him go, “Granted.”
Shen Quebai rolled out from the quilt, “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Ting Yuan, who heard the movement outside the door, immediately ordered people to bring in hot water and washing utensils. Previously, he would have gone in to help Zhu Hexing dress and comb his hair, but with this “new Princess” inside, it was no longer convenient.
After Zhu Hexing finished washing, he turned to see that Shen Quebai had already neatly put on his outer robes, his hair loosely held by a wooden pin. He remembered that when they met on the boat, Shen Quebai also hadn’t tied up his hair, but instead wore a painting scroll ribbon.
Zhu Hexing opened his arms and ordered, “Come here.”
Shen Quebai walked over, took a light and soft snow-blue robe from the attendant, and helped Zhu Hexing put it on and tie his belt. He had seen many high-ranking nobles, all of whom embroidered their clothes with gold and silver and “hundred-beast gardens,” wishing they could stand under the sun and flash with five-colored brilliance. But Zhu Hexing, this golden treasure, was actually a master of low-key luxury.
Shen Quebai felt the fabric of the robe; it was the “One-Palm Gold” from the Qianjin Workshop, feeling like a cloud in his hand. They only produced one bolt a year, and the wives and daughters of prominent families fought over it annually, yet they couldn’t compete with Zhu Hexing. But Zhu Hexing’s skin was a cold white, his frame tall and slender; clearly, he could wear these faint, pale purples perfectly.
Zhu Hexing asked sharply, “What are you thinking about?”
“They say ‘the man relies on clothes as the horse relies on a saddle,’ but this saying does not apply to you, Your Highness.” Shen Quebai said sincerely, “Your beauty is so exceptional that you would look good even if you wore a burlap sack.”
Zhu Hexing laughed, “How much cherry wine have you drunk to make your mouth so sweet?”
“What is in my heart is beautiful words, so naturally, what comes out are sweet words.” Shen Quebai pressed his lips together slightly, complaining, “If you don’t believe my sincerity, then so be it.”
“How could I?” Zhu Hexing doted on him smoothly, “I believe everything you say.”
Ting Yuan, standing in the outer room, exhaled and wondered with genuine confusion: Are you two not tired of acting like this?
Breakfast was eaten in the courtyard: candied begonias, jam rolls, golden cream pastries, and red date cakes all sweets.
Shen Quebai drank a bowl of clear porridge and picked out the only non-sweet item crab roe eating it with spicy pickles, which satisfied him. After putting down his chopsticks, his mouth was red, the color of rouge seeping out from his lips. He didn’t leave the table after eating, but watched Zhu Hexing eat one sweet thing after another, thinking that this was truly a sweet-as-honey man.
Around noon, Zhu Hexing had to go into the palace to see Emperor Jing’an. Before leaving, he ordered, “Clean out the small study and give it to the Princ…” He swallowed the word “Princess” and said, “Give it to the Young Master.”
Ting Yuan was supposed to go out with him, so Yan Chao was the one to respond.
Shen Quebai heard it from the veranda, stepped down the stairs to Zhu Hexing, and said, “According to the rules, shouldn’t I go into the palace today to pay my respects to the Empress?”
“Those are the rules for a bride, not for you. You are a man; why are you going into the harem all day to pay respects?” Zhu Hexing’s tone was flat, “Whether you stay in the estate or run wild outside is up to you. There are no elders in the estate; even if you hung yourself from the roof, no one would preach rules to you. As for outside…”
Zhu Hexing reached out to pinch Shen Quebai’s chin, making him look up, and said with a cryptic smile, “Your teeth are so sharp, who would dare provoke you?”
“Huh? How did you know my teeth are sharp, Your Highness?” Shen Quebai leaned closer to Zhu Hexing’s neck and whispered, “Have I bitten you before?”
Zhu Hexing raised an eyebrow and whispered in his ear, “I am just waiting for you to bite me.”
“I am afraid that if my teeth really are that sharp, I will bite you until you bleed uncontrollably, and I cannot bear that.” Shen Quebai gave an innocent smile, then reached out to straighten his collar, which had no wrinkles, acting very gentle and submissive, “Take care on the road, Your Highness, and come back early. I will be waiting for you.”