The lights in the master bedroom were set to their softest level, dispelling some of the darkness but unable to add much warmth to this overly spacious and cold space.
Wen Yan stood at the bathroom door, the steam from her recent shower still lingering, her skin retaining a lingering warmth.
She had changed into a conservative long-sleeved pajama set, the silk fabric clinging to her skin, cool and smooth as water.
Her hair was wrapped in a towel, and her makeup-free face appeared somewhat pale and weary under the light.
Stepping out of the bathroom, Li Yanzhou was already there.
He had also changed, wearing a dark silk robe loosely tied, revealing the clear lines of his collarbone and a small part of his chest.
The soft light fell on him, outlining his tall, straight figure and calm profile, softening his sharpness and lending him a more domestic air.
Hearing her emerge, he looked up, his gaze calmly sweeping over her.
“The hairdryer is in the drawer,” he said, pointing to the nightstand drawer, his voice low but exceptionally clear in the quiet room.
“Thank you,” Wen Yan murmured softly, walking over to open the drawer, where she indeed found a hairdryer.
She took it out, walked to the dressing table, and plugged it in.
The low hum of the hairdryer filled the quiet room.
Facing the mirror, Wen Yan dried her hair, but her gaze involuntarily drifted through the reflection toward the man on the bed.
Wen Yan quickly dried her hair, unplugged the hairdryer, and put it away.
The humming stopped, and silence returned to the room.
She walked to the other side of the bed, the side that belonged to her.
The dark gray silk bedding shimmered with a cold luster under the light.
She lifted the covers and lay down with some hesitation.
The mattress was exceptionally comfortable, supporting her body, while the silk felt cool and slippery, causing her to instinctively curl up slightly.
She tried to stay close to the edge on her side, pulling the covers up high to wrap herself tightly.
Night deepened.
Only one bedside lamp was lit in the bedroom, its dim yellow light enveloping the entire space in an ambiguous shadow. The curtains were not fully drawn, and moonlight from outside seeped through the gap, spreading a thin layer of silver frost on the floor.
Wen Yan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, motionless.
She had maintained this position for a long time.
From the moment she lay down until now, perhaps… two hours? Three hours? She wasn’t sure. She only knew that the man beside her had also remained motionless since lying down.
The bed was very large, so large that two people could lie on it with enough space for two more between them.
She secretly turned her head, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
He lay flat on his back, hands folded over his abdomen, his posture unusually proper.
His breathing was even and steady, seemingly already asleep.
Wen Yan looked at his profile, at his high, straight nose, his slightly pursed thin lips, and his sharply defined jawline that remained distinct even in sleep. Suddenly, her heart skipped a beat.
She quickly turned her head back, continuing to stare at the ceiling.
Don’t look.
Don’t think.
Wen Yan closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself down.
Can’t think about it anymore.
Sleep.
Sleep.
She counted sheep, one, two, three…
She didn’t know how many she had counted, but the breathing beside her remained even and steady.
She secretly opened her eyes and glanced at him again.
Still in that posture, still in that heart-racing appearance.
She sighed, turned over, and faced away from him.
After a long time, she finally drifted into a hazy sleep.
Li Yanzhou didn’t know when he had fallen asleep either.
He only knew that after lying down, he had maintained that position, motionless, breathing steadily, trying his best to appear as if he were already asleep.
But in truth, he had been awake the whole time.
He could feel her gaze, furtive and cautious, falling on his face.
That gaze was light, like a feather brushing across the surface of water, yet it stirred ripples in his heart.
He didn’t know why he felt this way.
Their marriage was merely a transaction of mutual needs, nothing more.
But…
The feeling of her lying beside him was completely different from what he had imagined.
It wasn’t rejection, nor was it aversion, but…
He couldn’t quite put it into words.
Later, he finally fell asleep.
And then the nightmare came.
The car accident.
That car accident again.
The late-night highway, blinding headlights, screeching brakes.
Then came the violent impact, the world spinning, shattering glass, twisting metal.
He stood by the roadside, watching the car that had been smashed beyond recognition, watching the blood flowing out from inside, watching the crowd gathering around, listening to the piercing screams and cries.
He wanted to rush over, to save someone, to…
But he couldn’t move.
His legs felt nailed to the ground, unable to take a single step.
He could only watch helplessly.
Watching as the blood flowed more and more, watching as the lives of those in the car slowly faded away.
Then, a low groan broke the silence.
The sound was faint, as if squeezed from deep within the throat, carrying suppressed pain.
Wen Yan’s eyelashes fluttered, but she didn’t wake immediately.
Then came a second groan.
Clearer, more painful than before.
“No… don’t…”
Wen Yan opened her eyes, realizing it was Li Yanzhou making the sounds. She turned over and saw his brows tightly furrowed, his forehead covered in cold sweat, his lips trembling slightly as he kept muttering indistinct words.
“Dad… Mom…”
His voice was hoarse, as if something were blocking his throat.
“Don’t… don’t leave me…”
Wen Yan froze.
He was dreaming about his parents.
That car accident—she had seen it in the news, the tragedy of the Li family’s previous generation.
Wen Yan’s heart suddenly tightened.
She looked at the vulnerability on his face, something she had never seen before, and at the drops sliding from the corners of his eyes, indistinguishable between sweat and tears.
She reached out and gently touched his arm.
“Li Yanzhou?”
He didn’t respond.
His brows remained furrowed, and he continued muttering something.
Wen Yan increased the pressure of her hand, shaking his arm.
“Li Yanzhou?”
He still didn’t wake.
The nightmare was like an invisible net, trapping him deep within, impossible to escape.
Listening to his increasingly rapid breathing and watching his increasingly pale face, Wen Yan’s worry grew stronger and stronger.
She sat up, placed both hands on his shoulders, and shook him firmly.
“Li Yanzhou!”
Her voice rose, piercingly clear in the quiet of the deep night.
“Wake up! You’re having a nightmare!”
Li Yanzhou suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t leave me!”
The grip was so strong that Wen Yan let out a soft hiss of pain.
Then Li Yanzhou’s eyes snapped open.
Wen Yan froze.
She looked at the fear lingering in his eyes, at the near-desperate plea on his face, at the hand gripping her wrist tightly—
Her heart suddenly softened into a puddle.
“Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”
Li Yanzhou looked into her eyes, at the gentle, soothing expression on her face.
He gradually came to his senses.
The fear in those eyes slowly faded, and he released her wrist.
“Sorry.”
Wen Yan shook her head.
“It’s fine.”
She flexed her wrist slightly—the red mark stood out starkly against her fair skin.
Li Yanzhou’s gaze fell on it, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
She lied; it did hurt a little.
But seeing him so remorseful, she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Li Yanzhou said nothing.
For so many years, he had had this nightmare countless times. Each time, he would wake up alone, panting in the darkness, waiting alone for his heartbeat to slowly calm down.
Never had anyone been by his side.
Never had anyone asked him, “Are you okay?”
He looked at her, at this stranger who had just become his wife.
Something inside him quietly shifted.
Wen Yan instinctively reached out and gently wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Her movements were light, careful, as if afraid of disturbing something.
Li Yanzhou froze.
He looked at her hand, at the gentle, cautious expression on her face.
For a moment, he thought he could hear his own heartbeat.
“Are you okay?” she asked again.
He shook his head.
“I’m fine.”
His voice was still hoarse, but steadier than before.
Wen Yan withdrew her hand, lay back down, and turned her back to him.
“That’s good… go back to sleep.”
Li Yanzhou said nothing.
He just lay there, watching her back for a long, long time.
Then he closed his eyes.