As soon as Xia Zhiwan said that, not only was Aunt Wang stunned—even Li Xiaohan stared at her in a daze.
“Wanwan… you said… we’re husband and wife?”
Li Xiaohan took the porridge and set it back on the tray in Aunt Wang’s hands, looking at Xia Zhiwan in disbelief.
“Yes.” Xia Zhiwan looked completely serious. “Ahan and I are husband and wife to begin with.”
Aunt Wang chimed in at the side, “Yes, sir and madam are husband and wife. The porridge has cooled a bit—I’ll take it downstairs to heat it up.”
Carrying the bowl of porridge that was still giving off steam, Aunt Wang happily went downstairs. Li Xiaohan, meanwhile, slammed the bedroom door shut.
He braced one hand against the wall, trapping the woman in his arms as he stared at her intently.
“Wanwan… do you really acknowledge that we’re husband and wife?”
I won’t see you, and I won’t acknowledge our relationship.
The words the woman had spoken on their wedding night had pierced deeply into his heart.
And now—now she was saying it herself, that they were husband and wife.
“Ahan, I was foolish before. Our relationship has always been that of husband and wife—and that’s my good fortune.”
Li Xiaohan’s heart jolted violently at those words.
He pulled her tightly into his arms, as if he wanted to knead her into his very body.
Only Xia Zhiwan’s head was left outside his embrace. Her arms were pinned painfully, and her breathing grew hurried.
“Ahan… you’re holding me too tight. I can’t breathe.”
“No. I want to hold you tight. I’m afraid that if I let go, you’ll run away.”
To the man, everything that had happened over the past few days felt like a dream.
In the past, when he occasionally managed to fall asleep, his dreams looked just like this.
The woman no longer held a dagger to her neck; she was simply quiet in his arms.
Now that the dream had suddenly become reality, he stubbornly refused to let her go.
But Xia Zhiwan could clearly feel that after he said those words, the strength of his embrace had eased considerably.
She could breathe freely again and wanted to return his hug.
Yet with her arms still restrained, she could only lightly rest her hands at either side of his waist.
She soothed him, over and over, telling him she wasn’t going anywhere—that she would stay by Ahan’s side.
“Ahan, Aunt Wang cooked porridge for you. Go downstairs and have some.”
Li Xiaohan buried his face in the crook of her neck and shook his head lightly.
“I won’t drink it. I just want to hold you a little longer—want to keep holding you.”
Xia Zhiwan sighed. “Sigh, it’s all my fault. I asked Aunt Wang to make porridge, but Ahan doesn’t even like it.”
The man finally released her and held her shoulders with both hands, his face lighting up with surprise.
“You were the one who asked her to make it?”
“Yes.” Xia Zhiwan looked a little dejected. “But since Ahan doesn’t like it, maybe—”
“I like it.”
Li Xiaohan cut her off, grabbed her hand, and started walking out. “Let’s go drink the porridge together.”
The bedroom door opened, and Xia Zhiwan once again saw Wanhanyuan beyond the room.
Held by Li Xiaohan, her current vantage point allowed her to clearly see most of the first floor.
She had never looked so carefully at anything in this home before.
The spacious, luxurious hall—light from the dazzling crystal chandelier contrasted sharply with the night outside.
It made the feeling of home seem exceptionally warm.
Hand in hand, they walked down the stairs. Aunt Wang was so excited that she set the porridge on the dining table and left the hall.
The servants’ quarters weren’t here, and it was already late at night, so the entire living room was left with just the two of them.
Standing there together, it felt as if they could hear nothing but each other’s breathing.
“Wanwan, this is the first time you’ve prepared something for me. I’m very happy.”
Hearing him say that, Xia Zhiwan felt a little embarrassed. “I didn’t make it—Aunt Wang did.”
Li Xiaohan simply gazed at her with deep affection.
“But you were the one who asked her to make it. Wanwan, I’m so happy.”
He kept repeating how he felt at that moment, the defenses in his heart slowly crumbling.
Perhaps… perhaps the woman really had changed—had truly accepted him.
“Ahan, we—mm…”
Xia Zhiwan had meant to say let’s sit down and drink the porridge, but the man grabbed the back of her head and forcefully sealed her lips.
“Mm…” A soft,娇嗔 sound escaped from between her lips and teeth.
Hearing that sound only made the man kiss her more fiercely.
After several minutes of tongues touching and intertwining, Xia Zhiwan’s legs trembled and she collapsed softly into his arms.
Li Xiaohan bent down, scooped her up, and sat down on a dining chair.
More precisely, Li Xiaohan sat on the chair, while Xia Zhiwan sat on his lap.
Steam rose from the porridge on the table, and Xia Zhiwan’s face was flushed bright red.
“Ahan, millet and oat porridge can help with insomnia. Drink a few sips, okay?”
Her voice was soft and gentle, flowing straight into Li Xiaohan’s heart, stirring his blood.
At that moment, he had no energy to wonder how she knew about his insomnia.
Under her gaze, he took a sip of porridge—then frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Seeing his furrowed brows, Xia Zhiwan asked anxiously. “Does it not taste good?”
When his brow remained knitted, she quickly picked up the bowl and took a sip herself.
But the moment the porridge touched her lips, the bowl was taken from her.
Still holding that mouthful, she was laid back into Li Xiaohan’s arms, and the man bent down to press his lips to hers.
As he pried her mouth open, the porridge gradually disappeared between their tongues.
This kind of “feeding” made Xia Zhiwan unbearably embarrassed.
She lightly tapped the man’s chest, trying to make him stop.
But Li Xiaohan lingered greedily, addicted to this “medicine” that could cure his insomnia.
One hand supported the woman’s head; the other caught the two little hands that were patting his chest.
He held them very lightly—like precious treasures.
Li Xiaohan finally stopped and gave her time to catch her breath.
Yet at the corner of his lips still lingered either porridge… or the taste of the two of them.
His eyes were dark as ink, his voice hoarse and low. “Don’t tease me, Wanwan.”
Xia Zhiwan was confused. When had she teased him?
But to Li Xiaohan— those little, coquettish hands patting his chest were a fatal temptation.
Lying on the man’s lap, Xia Zhiwan finally managed to breathe—but only for a moment.
Seeing Li Xiaohan lean down again, she hurriedly broke free and covered his mouth.
“Ahan…”
Her voice was full of grievance, her eyes shimmering with moisture, her once-pink lips now reddened from kissing.
Seeing her like this, Li Xiaohan—his eyes rimmed red—couldn’t bear to continue releasing his desire.
“I scared you.”
He restrained himself and kissed the center of her palm, then helped her sit upright in his arms.
“Wanwan, do you want to go to sleep first?”
Hearing that, Xia Zhiwan thought he still had work to deal with, so she stood up.
“Okay. Then Ahan, remember to finish the whole bowl of porridge.”
“Okay.”
At the mention of the porridge, Xia Zhiwan blushed, lowered her head, and hurried upstairs.
Watching the door to the upstairs room close, Li Xiaohan turned back to look at the porridge on the table— yet his mind was filled with nothing but those soft, slick lips.