Between husband and wife, within the small space of a bed curtain, having once shared a pillow with disheveled clothes, having once embraced closely with intertwined breaths and limbs—there remains no distance.
For instance, now, when Jiang Sheng reached into her dress again, Lin Yueming did not tremble as she had yesterday.
Pressed so close, she was somewhat surprised. Had he not consummated with those two maids? Otherwise, how could his current state be explained?
Seeming to notice her distraction, Jiang Sheng gently bit her shoulder through the fabric:
"Madam, I have no hands free. Help me fetch the book."
Lin Yueming, stirred into restlessness by him, went to retrieve the book he had just placed on the table. She opened it, glanced inside, then abruptly closed it again.
When she first entered, she had thought it rare for a military man like him to enjoy reading in his leisure time. Little did she expect that Jiang Sheng was not reading anything proper at all.
What he was reading was actually an erotic picture book!
Seeing her close the book, Jiang Sheng inquired with a casual tone:
"Is the artwork not good, or does Madam not like it? What a pity—your husband’s skills are lacking. Perhaps Madam could personally teach me?"
Teaching was out of the question.
What "lacking skills"? When it came to bedroom pleasures, she thought he already knew plenty of tricks.
Lin Yueming shot him a reproachful look:
"Didn’t you have your concubines teach you before?"
Jiang Sheng replied earnestly:
"I have no concubines. I’ve been waiting for Madam to marry me."
His tone was so sincere that Lin Yueming felt momentarily dazed.
What did he mean?
Surely he couldn’t still be inexperienced?
Impossible—he was already twenty-three.
Besides, even if he had remained chaste out of gratitude to the Emperor for arranging their marriage, what about all those years before?
In the throes of passion, people say all sorts of sweet words to please each other. In moments of deep affection, they might even offer their lives for a fleeting pleasure.
It was best just to listen and not take it seriously.
Lin Yueming opened the book again, straightening her posture as she asked:
"Where did you get to, husband?"
Noticing that she hadn’t trembled when he bit her shoulder earlier and hadn’t avoided his hand when he reached inside, Jiang Sheng grew bolder and kissed her earlobe:
"Since you arrived, I’ve forgotten everything. Why don’t we start learning from the beginning?"
Those who had studied from books were indeed different. With a methodical approach, at least he didn’t hurt her as he had yesterday.
Lin Yueming felt an itch in her heart, spreading throughout her entire body. Silently biting her lower lip, she made no sound.
Page by page, they turned through the book.
Who knew where Jiang Sheng had found such artwork? The painter’s skill was exquisite.
The men were robust and powerful, the women delicate and graceful.
The depictions were vivid and lifelike, capturing every detail as if one were present.
Since Teacher Lin refused to teach, Jiang Sheng combined theory with practice, teaching himself and gradually refining his techniques.
It was truly unbearable!
Lin Yueming’s breathing grew ragged. With nowhere to hide and unable to stand, she braced one hand against the desk for balance while the other gradually lost its grip on the book.
Jiang Sheng whispered in her ear, reminding her:
"If the book falls, Madam will have to teach me personally."
Lin Yueming clutched the corner of the book tightly, no longer able to sit upright. She collapsed entirely into Jiang Sheng’s embrace, her toes curling, her head resting on his shoulder as she gasped silently.
Not only was Jiang Sheng diligent in his studies, but he was also unashamed to ask questions:
"Here? Or here? Ah, so Madam likes it here."
The exquisitely illustrated book fell to the floor with a soft thud.
Lin Yueming could no longer hold back, letting out a moan.
The scene hidden in memory, along with that long-lost joy, replayed in her mind.
Lin Yueming's face turned deathly pale. She stood up abruptly and pushed Jiang Sheng away with such force that his chair was shoved back two steps.
The screeching sound against the floor was like a horn awakening one from a dream.
Caught off guard, Jiang Sheng looked at his hands in bewilderment, then at her:
"Did I hurt you again?"
Lin Yueming shook her head, leaning against the desk as if about to collapse. She tried to explain:
"No, it's not that."
But she didn't know where to begin.
In marital intimacy, aside from the first time when she had found some pleasure, things with Lu Chen had never gone smoothly afterward.
Because he had scolded her that first time, she later became troubled over how to conceal her reactions so as not to appear frivolous.
Yet the evidence of a woman's arousal, like that of a man's desire, is obvious and impossible to hide.
Unable to conceal it, she grew tense every time afterward.
Not daring to move, not daring to make a sound, not daring to touch him.
Her entire body was taut with tension.
Once tense, there was no need for concealment anyway.
Unless Lu Chen forced the matter, it simply wouldn't happen.
Lu Chen was a scholar who upheld propriety and knew shame—even in bed, he was rigid and by-the-book, without any variation. He couldn't bring himself to force his own wife.
Out of ten attempts, they succeeded perhaps twice at best. Once, he even injured her, frightening Lu Chen badly.
Later, when Lu Chen came to her, they mostly just slept under the covers. Sometimes in the middle of the night, Lu Chen would stir beside her, his breathing heavy in her ear, the scent of musk filling the bed curtains.
Lu Chen had never touched her maids. Lin Yueming didn't know if he sought release elsewhere—she had speculated it might be with her cousin or perhaps a maid from his study.
She wondered if his demands of them were the same as his demands of her.
Probably not. When taking a concubine, one seeks beauty. If he turned to them, he would only wish they were less restrained.
But since Lu Chen never brought them before her to serve tea formally, she pretended they didn't exist.
Lu Chen was in the past. Before her now, waiting for an explanation, was the Marquis of Wu'an.
Jiang Sheng lowered his gaze, took out a handkerchief, and leisurely wiped his fingers. After a moment, seeing that Lin Yueming hadn't even offered him a flimsy excuse, he instead looked at her and smiled.
He was a straightforward man who disliked beating around the bush or guessing games. If she wouldn't speak, he would ask himself.
Putting away the handkerchief, Jiang Sheng smiled at her and cut straight to the point:
"Lin Yueming, are you preserving your chastity for him?"
This was the first time the Marquis had called her by her full name. In that short sentence lay implications too complex to articulate.
Without waiting for her answer, Jiang Sheng drew his own conclusion and continued:
"I know you're unwilling, but you've married me now. If you want to preserve your chastity for him, that won't work with me. Other matters we can discuss, but this one is non-negotiable."
Lin Yueming attempted to argue:
"I'm not preserving chastity for him, nor am I unwilling. I married the Marquis willingly."
Jiang Sheng stood up and stepped closer to her, his expression inscrutable as he stared at her, slowly asking:
"Oh, is that so? Not because of him?"
Between husband and wife lies the closest yet most distant bond—and the Marquis of Wu'an had grown suspicious.
Lin Yueming, her back pressed against the desk, met his gaze firmly and replied:
"No, to me, he is merely an outsider. You, Marquis, are my husband."
The word "outsider" pleased Jiang Sheng.
Jiang Sheng stepped closer, lifted her hair to sniff it, and unconsciously softened his tone as he asked:
"Then, is it because you dislike me? Are you unwilling to engage in marital affairs?"
Lin Yueming hadn’t expected Jiang Sheng to ask so bluntly. It was too straightforward, so much so that it made her somewhat uncomfortable.
Lu Chen was a reserved man. In their three years of marriage, they had never discussed such matters.
If she had ever broached the subject with him, she feared he would have added yet another reason to divorce her.
But now that she was in the Jiang Family, she had to adapt to Jiang Sheng’s preferences. No matter how uncomfortable she felt, she had to get used to it.
Lin Yueming took Jiang Sheng’s hand and placed it on her waist:
"I am willing."
After a moment’s thought, feeling her words lacked conviction, Lin Yueming proactively reached out to wrap her arms around his waist:
"I am willing. If my husband desires it, we can do so now. I am ready."
It wasn’t about preserving chastity, nor was it about dislike. She claimed willingness, yet in practice, she seemed unwilling.
What exactly was going on?
Jiang Sheng was somewhat puzzled. He rested his head on her shoulder, leaning close to her ear as he whispered:
"This is my first marriage, and I don’t quite understand. Please teach me, my lady. Is this coyness a form of marital play?"