Early the next morning, dawn was just beginning to break, and pale light filtered through the window lattice into the bed curtains.
Huo Shiran was the first to open his eyes, caught in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, enveloped by the unfamiliar sensation of soft warmth in his arms.
Before his mind had fully awakened, he only knew that his embrace was filled with something warm and soft, while his arm was tightly wrapped around by something—or rather, someone.
He froze for a moment.
Then, like a flood breaking through its banks, memories of the previous day rushed back into his mind—the palace banquet, the imperial decree, the wedding, the bridal chamber…
The chaos, the arguments, the tears…
And finally…
He had actually married Lu Jiaojiao.
Lowering his gaze, he looked down in the dim morning light.
The woman in his arms was sleeping soundly. The pallor had faded somewhat from her face since the night before, replaced by a faint flush. Her long lashes rested peacefully against her cheeks.
And she was clinging tightly to his waist.
Her entire body was curled against him like a vine, nestled in his arms. She even unconsciously rubbed her head against the hollow of his neck.
Looking farther down, he saw that because of her restless sleeping position, the collar of her plain-colored sleeping robe had loosened slightly, revealing a small patch of smooth, jade-like skin and the delicate line of her collarbone. Several strands of black hair had fallen across it, creating a striking contrast of black against white—a fleeting glimpse of spring.
Huo Shiran’s mind went completely blank.
With a loud buzz in his head, he felt a rush of heat surge through his body, and some part of him instantly went rigid.
Almost instinctively, he began fumbling in panic, desperately trying to free himself from the impossibly soft, fragrant body wrapped around him.
Perhaps his movements disturbed her.
Lu Jiaojiao gave a dissatisfied little murmur. Not only did she fail to let go, she hugged him even tighter. Her voice was thick with sleep, soft and indistinct, as though she were coquettishly complaining to her personal maid:
“Mmm… Xiaochun, stop making a fuss… Let me sleep a little longer…”
As she spoke, her soft, warm body restlessly burrowed even deeper into his arms, apparently trying to find a more comfortable position.
Her warm breath, carrying her unique fragrance, brushed against his neck. The unfamiliar softness pressed against his chest only made Huo Shiran’s entire body stiffen.
The sound of blood rushing through his veins seemed to roar in his ears.
Unable to endure it any longer, he finally used a bit of force to wrench himself free from her embrace. He practically leaped off the bed in a panic, snatched up the thin blanket at the foot of the bed, and hastily wrapped it around his waist, attempting to conceal his unmistakable embarrassment.
Unfortunately, he pulled too hard.
The brocade quilt and thin blanket that had originally covered them both were dragged away with him—
Leaving the person on the bed completely uncovered.
In the faint morning light, Lu Jiaojiao lay on her side amid the rumpled crimson bedding. Her plain sleeping robe had ridden up because of her restless sleeping position, exposing her long, slender legs to the cool morning air. Her ankles were delicate, and against the red sheets, her skin looked almost dazzlingly pale.
Huo Shiran sharply inhaled.
For a moment, he had no idea where to look. His heart pounded like a drum.
He clumsily tried to throw the blanket back over her, then suddenly felt that doing so might somehow be inappropriate. He froze where he stood, his ears turning so red they looked as though they might start bleeding.
Meanwhile, Lu Jiaojiao seemed to sense the chill in the air. She frowned slightly and curled herself up, but she still did not wake.
Looking at the lively yet utterly chaotic scene before him, Huo Shiran pressed a hand to his forehead.
He suddenly felt that his married life was going to be filled with unpredictable… challenges from the very first morning.
Grinding his teeth, he silently repeated to himself:
Lu Jiaojiao, were you my ancestor in your past life or something?!
…
Lu Jiaojiao was gently shaken awake by her personal maid, Xiaochun.
She opened her eyes groggily and instinctively reached toward the space beside her.
Her hand touched nothing but cold, empty bedding.
“Young Madam, it’s time to get up,” Xiaochun urged softly. “It’s getting late. You still have to go and serve tea to the Marquis and Madam.”
Serve tea!
Those two words struck Lu Jiaojiao like a bolt of lightning, instantly scattering every last trace of sleepiness.
She shot upright in bed.
Her heart began pounding wildly.
That was right.
She was married now. Today was the day for the new bride to formally serve tea and acknowledge her new family.
She absolutely could not be late!
Without even bothering to wonder why the space beside her was empty, she hurriedly threw back the covers and got out of bed, allowing Xiaochun and several other maids, who had already been waiting, to help her wash and dress.
The room was quiet.
Only the rustling of clothing and the sound of water could be heard.
One of the second-rank maids, responsible for arranging her hair, held a jade comb and carefully gathered Lu Jiaojiao’s long, black hair into an elegant style.
When the maid leaned closer, however, her gaze inadvertently fell upon the corner of Lu Jiaojiao’s lips.
Her hand paused.
A deep blush immediately spread across her cheeks.
She quickly lowered her head and focused even more intently on the hair in her hands, though her eyes seemed somewhat unfocused.
Lu Jiaojiao, meanwhile, was staring at herself in the bronze mirror. There was still a trace of exhaustion between her brows, and she failed to notice anything unusual about the maid’s behavior.
She merely felt a faint sting at the corner of her mouth.
Subconsciously, she gently touched it with the tip of her tongue and tasted the faintest hint of iron.
Only then did she vaguely remember that she seemed to have accidentally hurt herself the previous night…
She was still not fully awake when Xiaochun brought over the formal outfit she was supposed to wear that day.
As for the blushing maid, while stepping back, she could not resist secretly glancing up once more.
Her eyes landed briefly on the small scab at the corner of her young mistress’s lips—a tiny mark, yet one that was more than enough to invite all kinds of speculation.
Her heart immediately began racing.
Th-this Second Young Master… He looks so upright and imposing. Who would have thought that he would be… so… eager?
And Young Madam is so delicate… Could her frail body really withstand it…?
Thus, in the quiet of that morning, a completely silent misunderstanding was born.
And one of the people responsible for it—Lu Jiaojiao herself—remained entirely unaware.
Her mind was filled only with the upcoming tea ceremony and…
That bastard of a husband who had disappeared without a trace first thing in the morning!