Xie Lanqi’s eyelid twitched. She saw Xie Yunzhi stop what he was doing, his eyes darting around mischievously. She gave a light cough and turned to walk away.
A moment later, Zhao Jin ruffled Xie Yunzhi’s hair. “You can play with the rest yourself.”
He took long strides and followed after her.
The two walked one in front of the other, with the maids trailing some distance behind.
Zhao Jin still hadn’t spoken. Xie Lanqi tried to guess why he had come, her mind wandering. She forgot she was on a downward slope, stepped on empty air, and stumbled.
“Careful.”
Zhao Jin moved quickly, grabbing her arm and steadying her.
“Thank you, Heir,” Xie Lanqi said softly. She shook her arm lightly, signaling him to let go.
Zhao Jin released her. His thin lips pressed together slightly. There was one regret from his previous life that he could never quite speak aloud. In that life, Xie Lanqi had endured hardship and suffering alongside him, planned and managed everything for him, exhausted herself to the bone — yet because she could not bear children, she refused to be intimate with him. Beyond love and respect, he also felt deep guilt and reverence toward her. Because of the mistakes he had made early on when he was blind and foolish, he feared she would think him a man driven by lust and pleasure, and look down on him. So he suppressed his desire to be close to her and obediently slept in separate beds.
In these recent meetings, Xie Lanqi was just as virtuous, sensible, and understanding as she had been before. But Zhao Jin was no longer satisfied with that. In this life, he had corrected his errors early, and his heart had grown greedier. He not only wanted to marry her as soon as possible — he wanted them to be a loving couple who shared more than mutual respect and courtesy at the table. He wanted tender closeness, the joys of the bedchamber, true intimacy.
“Rucheng.” Zhao Jin looked at her steadily, his eyes filled with intense emotion. “Rucheng is my courtesy name. We are about to be married. Please don’t call me Heir anymore — call me Rucheng.”
Then, with a gentle smile, he added softly, “And I won’t call you Second Miss anymore. I’ll call you Qier. Is that all right?”
Xie Lanqi’s heart gave a jolt. She looked at him suspiciously, searching his face for any hint of deceit. He had always been so proper and restrained before — why had he suddenly changed like this?
Zhao Jin didn’t wait for her answer. Assuming she was shy — after all, they weren’t married yet — he took her silence as agreement. He took the pouch from his robe and gently stroked it, his eyes overflowing with tender affection. “Qier, receiving this gift made me very happy.”
Xie Lanqi gave a stiff smile. “Heir must be joking. Please don’t carry this pouch anymore.”
Zhao Jin shook his head with a light laugh. Then his brows suddenly furrowed. His gaze fixed on her hands. “It must have hurt a lot to prick yourself like that. From now on, don’t touch needlework anymore.”
He spoke so naturally and intimately that Xie Lanqi felt goosebumps rise all over her body. Her scalp prickled. Seeing him lean closer, she hurriedly took two steps back and hid her hands behind her.
“My needlework is poor — I’ve made a fool of myself in front of the Heir,” Xie Lanqi said, lowering her head. Her voice was soft and low, sounding both ashamed and upset.
“Qier, don’t misunderstand. I’m not mocking you — I’m heartbroken for you…”
Xie Lanqi cut him off. “One knows one’s own affairs best. There’s no need for the Heir to cover it up. I understand.”
Zhao Jin felt deep regret. It was all his fault for not knowing how to speak properly — he wished he could slap himself. He didn’t dare say any more, afraid he would upset her to the point of tears.
In his memory, Xie Lanqi had once cried over a piece of wolf fur. That was their first winter in Liaodong — the hardest days. In the bone-chilling cold where water froze instantly, he had to go out before dawn to chip ice on the frozen river. He only returned after dark, his hands cracked and bleeding from the frost.
One day while chopping ice, they encountered a wolf. The others hid behind him, but he didn’t run. He killed the wolf. By then, Zhao Jin had tasted the full bitterness of falling into ruin and understood how a fallen man must behave. He had killed the wolf alone, yet he claimed none of it — he gave the carcass to the team leader. This became his chance to be accepted into the ice-chopping group. A few days later, the team leader gave him an old, tanned piece of wolf fur to make gloves.
He handed the fur to Xie Lanqi. She measured it against him, looked at his frost-bitten ears, and said that if used well, it could make not only gloves but also ear warmers. Then she gave a small, quiet smile.
Zhao Jin had looked at her and smiled too. That day, for a moment, they forgot the pain of their reality. The next day, though cold and exhausted while chopping ice, his heart felt light. He looked forward to going home — to wearing gloves and ear warmers.
That evening when they returned, Xie Lanqi’s eyes were red and swollen — clearly she had just been crying. Zhao Jin panicked and asked what had happened. Xie Lanqi choked out through sobs, “The ear warmers are gone.”
It turned out she had planned everything carefully, but she had hardly ever done much needlework. Her hands weren’t obedient; she cut wrong and wasted some of the fur. In the end, she could only make an ugly pair of mittens — thumb separate, the other four fingers joined together.
After she finished speaking, two large, bright tears rolled down her cheeks.
At that moment, Zhao Jin felt as though those two tears had fallen straight into his heart. Xie Lanqi crying was heartbreakingly beautiful — and it made him ache with distress. He didn’t blame her at all. He spoke softly, coaxing and comforting her until she finally smiled through her tears.
Zhao Jin fell silent for quite a long time. Xie Lanqi let out a quiet breath, wondering if he was finally unable to keep up the act. She spoke up: “It’s getting late. If the Heir has no further business, please go down the mountain soon so you don’t miss the city gates closing.”
She was clearly sending him away. Zhao Jin felt even more frustrated. Memories surged up inside him, emotions churning wildly, and the words slipped out before he could stop them: “Qier, in this life I will never let you down. You must believe me.”
Xie Lanqi paused for a moment, then quickly lowered her head again, looking shy and demure on the surface — though inwardly she grew even more suspicious of his motives. She answered casually, “Whatever the Heir says, I believe it.”
Zhao Jin didn’t notice her perfunctory tone at all. For a moment his heart felt completely satisfied, sweet as honey.
“Heir, it really is late. If you don’t leave soon, you might miss tomorrow’s court audience,” Xie Lanqi urged gently, playing the sensible role.
Although Zhao Jin knew he could still make it even if he waited another hour, he didn’t want to leave the impression of neglecting his duties in front of Xie Lanqi. Reluctantly, he agreed.
“I’ll come again on the next rest day.”
Xie Lanqi politely declined. “The weather is turning cold. In a day or two, we’ll return to the manor.”
Once back at the Jing’an Earl Manor, even if Zhao Jin went there, Madam Liang would never allow him to see her.
Zhao Jin’s face showed clear disappointment. He could only hope time would pass quickly so the wedding day would come sooner.