When they returned home, Xiao Guiwan carried everything into the house.
Mu Hanhe watched as she bustled back and forth through the tiny main room. Yet somehow, item after item disappeared. He distinctly remembered that she had bought two bolts of cloth, but only one remained in the room. The rice, flour, and seeds she’d purchased also seemed to have diminished.
He couldn’t figure it out, but he didn’t ask.
After all, if even reincarnation could happen to him, what was there left in this world that he couldn’t accept?
It seemed his little wife had secrets of her own.
That evening, Xiao Guiwan cooked dinner.
She washed the newly bought rice and set it to cook, sliced a few pieces of cured meat, and picked a handful of fresh greens from the yard.
The stove was tiny, leaving her barely enough room to move around, so Mu Hanhe crouched beside it, feeding firewood into the flames.
“A little smaller,” she instructed.
He nudged the firewood aside, reducing the flames.
“A little bigger.”
He adjusted them again.
“That’s enough. Leave it like that.”
He glanced at her.
Xiao Guiwan was busy chopping vegetables. Sensing his gaze, she turned and smiled at him.
It was a beautiful smile—lazy and relaxed, yet her bright eyes sparkled as though they held the stars themselves.
Mu Hanhe quietly looked away and lowered his eyes to the fire.
Its glow reflected across his face, making it feel strangely warm.
Dinner was served.
Two dishes and a soup—far more lavish than yesterday’s meal.
Xiao Guiwan picked up some vegetables with her chopsticks and placed them into his bowl before serving herself, eating with obvious delight.
“Is it good?” she asked.
“Mhm.”
“Then eat more.”
She added another helping to his bowl.
Mu Hanhe lowered his head and continued eating, the corners of his lips refusing to flatten.
After dinner, he voluntarily cleared the table and washed the dishes by the stove.
Meanwhile, Xiao Guiwan sat in the main room beneath the dim oil lamp, carefully sorting and wrapping the medicinal herbs she’d bought that day. Her movements were practiced and efficient.
Mu Hanhe glanced over from the stove but said nothing.
Late into the night, Xiao Guiwan bathed first.
The house had no proper bathroom. She simply mixed hot water in a wooden tub beside the stove and hung an old cloth curtain for privacy.
When she emerged, her hair was still dripping wet.
Droplets trickled from the ends, soaking one shoulder of her blouse.
Mu Hanhe was tidying the stove when his eyes inadvertently swept toward her, his hands pausing briefly.
Her damp hair clung to her soft cheeks, making her already fair skin seem almost luminous.
The collar of her rose-pink dress had darkened where it had been dampened by steam, clinging lightly against her collarbone.
He lowered his eyes and resumed scrubbing the pot.
Still toweling her hair, Xiao Guiwan walked over to him.
“Daniu, you should go wash now. The water’s still hot.”
“Mhm.”
He set down the scrub brush and was about to stand when she suddenly rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t move yet.”
Picking up a dry towel, she began drying his hair.
Mu Hanhe froze.
He’d sweated quite a bit during the day, and his hair was already half dry, but her fingers threaded gently through it, rubbing lightly.
“Your hair is so coarse,” she commented, twirling a lock around her finger. “They say people with coarse hair have stubborn tempers. Do you have a bad temper?”
“Not really.”
“So if I bully you from now on, you won’t hit me?”
“…No.”
She laughed softly.
Then lowered her head and placed a feather-light kiss on the top of his head.
Mu Hanhe’s shoulders immediately stiffened.
He gently took the towel from her hands, stood up, and turned to face her.
Looking up at him, Xiao Guiwan’s almond-shaped eyes reflected the flickering oil lamp, bright and sparkling.
“What is it?” she asked knowingly.
Without answering, Mu Hanhe unfolded the towel and began drying her hair instead.
His movements weren’t exactly gentle—if anything, they were a little clumsy—but they were careful. He patiently squeezed each damp lock dry.
She obediently stood still, allowing him to fuss over her.
When he finished, she suddenly rose onto her tiptoes and kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you, Husband,” she whispered softly.
Then she darted into the bedroom.
Mu Hanhe remained standing there, towel still in hand.
The warmth of her kiss lingered at the corner of his lips.
Closing his eyes briefly, he drew a deep breath before turning to bathe.
When he returned, the oil lamp in the bedroom was still lit.
Xiao Guiwan was already lying beneath the blankets, pulled up to her chin, revealing only her delicate, fair face.
Seeing him enter, she scooted farther inside, making room for him.
Mu Hanhe blew out the lamp and climbed into bed in the darkness.
The newly bought quilt was thick and warm—far cozier than the one they’d used the night before.
The two lay side by side in silence.
After a while, Xiao Guiwan moved first.
Rolling onto her side to face him, she reached out beneath the quilt and poked his arm with one finger.
“Daniu.”
“Mhm.”
“Are you asleep?”
“…Not yet.”
He wasn’t dead. How could he possibly fall asleep that quickly?
Her finger slid from his arm to the back of his hand before slipping between his fingers, intertwining them.
Her hand was much smaller than his.
Soft.
Cool.
Mu Hanhe tightened his grip around her hand, gently stroking the back of it with his thumb.
She hummed in satisfaction and inched even closer until her whole body nestled against his.
Burying her face in the hollow of his shoulder, her warm breath brushed against his collarbone.
“You’re so warm,” she mumbled.
Without a word, Mu Hanhe wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her deeper into his embrace.
Finding a comfortable position in his arms, Xiao Guiwan suddenly lifted her head and pecked him on the chin.
“Xiao Guiwan.”
He spoke her name quietly, his voice carrying a trace of warning.
“Hm?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t plan on sleeping.”
Blinking in the darkness, she couldn’t clearly see his expression, but she heard the huskiness creeping into his voice.
Instead of retreating, she leaned in and kissed his lips again.
“I don’t.”
Her answer came confidently.
Mu Hanhe remained silent for a heartbeat.
Then he rolled over, pinning her gently beneath him as he lowered his head and kissed her.
This time, there were no lingering medicinal effects clouding their minds.
Both were completely sober.
Yet the kiss was deeper.
Slower.
Far more tender.
His tongue gently coaxed her lips apart, finding hers in a lingering embrace.
One hand slid from her waist to the curve of her back, fingertips tracing the graceful line of her spine.
Kissed until her body softened, Xiao Guiwan clutched the front of his robe, her breathing growing uneven.
After what felt like forever, Mu Hanhe finally released her lips.
Their foreheads rested together, noses touching.
“Still don’t want to sleep?” he asked, his voice rough beyond recognition.
Xiao Guiwan gazed into the eyes only inches away.
Round, clear eyes with dark pupils that reflected her own face.
She cupped his cheeks gently, her thumb brushing across his brow.
“I do,” she murmured in a voice soft as flowing water.
“I want to sleep with you.”
Mu Hanhe’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
Lowering his head, he kissed her eyelids, then the tip of her nose, then the corner of her lips.
“All right.”
The bed curtains swayed gently.
The wooden bed creaked softly.
This night was gentler than the last.
And much longer.
Xiao Guiwan bit her lip to keep herself quiet, but Mu Hanhe slowly pried apart her fingers one by one, interlacing them with his and pressing their joined hands against the pillow.
“You don’t have to hold back,” he whispered beside her ear.
Her eyes grew misty, though whether from pleasure or something else, even she couldn’t tell.
Turning her head, she lightly bit his shoulder.
Mu Hanhe let out a muffled grunt.
Then he smiled.
He really is handsome when he smiles, she thought.
I should make him smile more often.
Eventually, the room grew quiet again.
She had already been exhausted from the day’s work, and after all that, Xiao Guiwan drifted off almost instantly.
Mu Hanhe stayed awake a while longer, slowing his breathing.
Only after confirming she was sound asleep did he quietly rise from bed.
Walking to the window, he rolled up a prepared note and slipped it into a small bamboo tube.
He opened the window and let out an almost inaudible whistle.
Moments later, a gray carrier pigeon emerged from the darkness and landed on the windowsill.
Mu Hanhe fastened the bamboo tube to its leg, gently lifted it into the air, and watched it disappear into the night sky.
Closing the window, he returned to bed, tucked the quilt more securely around a certain sleeping someone, and finally closed his eyes.
The next morning, Xiao Guiwan discovered several pigeon feathers scattered across the courtyard.
Gray.
Soft.
They lay beside the water jar.
Squatting down, she picked one up and examined it before looking toward Mu Hanhe, who was splitting firewood.
“Daniu, do we raise pigeons now?”
The axe in his hands paused for a fraction of a second.
Turning calmly, his expression didn’t change in the slightest.
“A wild pigeon. It flew in last night. I roasted it.”
Xiao Guiwan looked at him and smiled.
“Was it good?”
“Not bad.”
“Next time you roast one, save me a bite. I’d like to taste wild pigeon too.”
“All right.”
She tossed the feather into the stove and turned to wash rice for breakfast.
A wild pigeon.
Roasted it.
Who are you trying to fool?
The feather was spotless.
No blood.
No singed edges.
What kind of considerate wild pigeon would pluck out its own feathers before flying in so you could roast it?
Yeah, right.
The fire in the stove burned brightly, making the porridge bubble vigorously.
As Xiao Guiwan stirred it, she thought to herself:
I’ve been in Willow Tree Village for three days now, and I still haven’t planted anything in the spirit field inside my space.
The spirit spring produced one jar of water each day.
After three days, she’d already accumulated three jars.
She needed to put them to use soon.
The problem was that Ye Daniu stayed home all day.
She never had a chance to enter her space.
I’ll have to think of an excuse to be alone for a while.
Outside, Mu Hanhe continued splitting firewood.
Each swing of the axe cleanly split another log.
He, too, was deep in thought.
The carrier pigeon had flown out the previous night.
The earliest reply would arrive in three days.
The matter in Lingnan couldn’t be rushed, but it couldn’t be delayed either.
Although the Emperor had stripped him of his military authority, that didn’t mean the suspicious ruler truly trusted him.
Knowing the Emperor’s cautious nature, it wouldn’t be long before spies were sent to keep watch over him.
If they uncovered anything suspicious, all his efforts would be wasted.
I need to keep an even lower profile.
And then there was Xiao Guiwan.
He still couldn’t see through this wife of his.
She had supposedly grown up on a rural estate, yet she was also a noble family’s daughter.
How could she adapt so naturally to consummating her marriage with a country man, without the slightest hesitation?
And why was she secretly stockpiling grain and medicine?
The porridge finished cooking.
Xiao Guiwan ladled out two bowls and carried them to the table.
“Daniu, breakfast’s ready.”
Mu Hanhe set down his axe, washed his hands, and took a seat.
The two of them sat facing each other, quietly eating porridge and pickled vegetables.
They looked, in every way, like the most ordinary farming couple in the countryside.