Wen Ning extended her fair, slender arms and, as if guided by some unseen force, wrapped them around Xie Jinglan’s neck.
Feeling her movement, the man’s domineering kiss softened and grew restrained, the breaths mingling between their lips becoming heavier and hotter with each passing moment.
A long while later, Xie Jinglan slowly released the woman in his embrace.
Wen Ning, torn between shame and helplessness, couldn’t hold back a sob. Tears traced a path over her lips, still tingling from his earlier invasion.
Xie Jinglan’s voice was low and hoarse as he threatened, “Do you still intend to marry that scholar?”
Hating her own reaction moments before, Wen Ning lowered her flushed face and retorted tearfully, “This servant is born under an ill-fated star. I dare not taint the Marquis.”
Xie Jinglan suddenly chuckled lightly, arguing with her, “You fear harming a husband if you marry another, yet when it comes to choosing me, you suddenly grow cautious. To sum it up, you care for me, worry for me, and fear my death.”
Wen Ning had never known Xie Jinglan to be so silver-tongued. She bit her lip, unable to utter a word for a long while.
Xie Jinglan lifted Wen Ning’s chin, desire churning in his eyes. “My fate is hardy; that scholar couldn’t withstand it. You must direct your ill fortune toward me.”
Wen Ning felt as though she had only made things worse. At this moment, she was like a lamb awaiting slaughter, where even struggling seemed futile.
Unwilling to yield, she sought another excuse, pleading with Xie Jinglan, “According to propriety and law, the mourning period for a deceased husband should last three years. I beg the Marquis to at least allow this servant to observe a year of mourning for my husband. Once the year is complete, this servant… will submit to the Marquis’s will.”
Xie Jinglan’s cold, starlit eyes reflected her tearful peach-blossom gaze. “Mourn for him? How much longer?”
“Only… a little over half a year.”
By then, regardless of whether the child in her womb would come into this world, Wen Ning felt she would have done her utmost.
Another half a year! What did she mean by “only a little over half a year”?
For the first time, Xie Jinglan felt that dealing with a woman was more challenging than leading troops into battle. He pressed further, “Exactly how long?”
Wen Ning calculated the days, her voice tinged with guilt. “Eight months.”
In truth, only six and a half months remained until her due date, but eight months later would indeed mark the anniversary of the young master of the Liu family’s death. In saying this, she wasn’t entirely wrong.
Eight months without touching her! He was no saint or ascetic monk, incapable of such restraint.
Perhaps he once was, but after meeting her, he no longer could be.
“I can refrain from the final step, but the rest… is unavoidable!”
This was the greatest concession Xie Jinglan could make. He could have outright refused, but faced with her tearful peach-blossom eyes, his heart softened.
Wen Ning understood perfectly well what his words implied. Merely thinking about it sent a flush spreading from her neck all the way to the tips of her ears.
She clenched her lower lip tightly, as if begging Xie Jinglan to grant her a little more leeway.
Xie Jinglan leaned in, his scorching breath brushing against her ear. “If you remain silent, I’ll take it as your agreement. If you refuse, then I’ll disregard all mourning customs and propriety and take you right now!”
Wen Ning trembled in fear, her delicate hands, trapped against his chest, curling weakly. She lowered her head and replied, “This servant… obeys.”
Yet, in her heart, she couldn’t help but wonder in confusion—wasn’t it said that he suffered from a hidden ailment?
Did he truly have it or not…
Outside the kitchen, Táng Lí stood drenched, her ruqun soaked through. Rouge mixed with rainwater trailed down her jawline.
She had personally prepared candied fruits for the Marquis, never expecting to witness such a scene!
Táng Lí's eyes were bloodshot, her nails digging deep into the flesh of her palms. Blood seeped from between her fingers, yet she felt no pain.
She watched as Wen Ning actively wrapped her arms around the Marquis's neck, and the Marquis kissed her—passionately, tenderly, the kind of touch she had only ever dreamed of receiving.
Since childhood, she had adored the Marquis, her affections winding and creeping through every corner of her heart. What she looked forward to most in Hou Manor was catching a glimpse of his tall, upright figure every day.
Countless late nights, she had longed for the Marquis to embrace and kiss her in her dreams.
But why did that wretch Wen Ning get it? She was already married, yet she still managed to lure the Marquis to such a place!
Táng Lí seethed inwardly! Seductress! Wretched creature! She deserves to die!
…
The next day, when Granny Li brought Old Madam her morning meal, she spun a tale in front of her.
She claimed that Wen Ning, that wretched maid, had seduced the Marquis into the kitchen the previous night, clinging to him right by the stove, utterly tarnishing the Marquis's reputation.
Granny Li expected Old Madam to fly into a rage, but instead, Old Madam asked with a gossipy expression, "Is that true?"
Granny Li spoke with conviction, "This old servant wouldn't dare speak falsely. Several servants in Tingsong Courtyard saw it last night; otherwise, I wouldn't have known so clearly."
In truth, Táng Lí had returned to her in tears, and Granny Li had embellished the story to slander Wen Ning.
"Well, I know now. I'll summon that girl another day and have the instructing matron teach her some manners."
Granny Li hadn't expected that Old Madam, usually so "obedient," would fail to act as she wished this time. She gritted her teeth in frustration and returned to the kitchen.
Under normal circumstances, Old Madam would never have allowed such a thing to happen, especially since the maid was already married.
But her grandson had mentioned a few days ago that he lacked interest in such matters. She had felt both heartache and fear—what if he never regained that interest? How would he be any different from a eunuch in the palace?
Hearing that her grandson had been lured into the kitchen by a maid, Old Madam's heart finally settled.
She was just a bedchamber maid. Once the Marquis tired of this novelty, Old Madam could simply dismiss her.
…
Shen Lin, the son-in-law, came to take Xie Wan back home. He had arrived the day before yesterday and still hadn't left the next day, insisting he wanted to share a drink with Xie Jinglan.
After discussing court affairs, the two chatted about personal matters.
Xie Jinglan remarked, "I heard from the servants that you slept until the sun was high today. Did you come to my manor just to catch up on sleep?"
Shen Lin, with his charming and refined appearance, narrowed his fox-like eyes as he smiled. "You, with your ascetic ways, clearly haven't tasted the pleasures of life. Your sister and I haven't seen each other in so long—it would be strange if we didn't sleep until midday."
Xie Jinglan simply sipped his tea, unwilling to engage further.
Shen Lin grinned, leaning closer to Xie Jinglan to share some gossip. "A few days ago, I visited a painting studio and saw a portrait of an exceptionally beautiful woman hanging in the place of honor."
Xie Jinglan showed little interest, instead threatening Shen Lin, "What? Should I tell Xie Wan?"
Xie Jinglan always referred to Xie Wan by her full name.
Shen Lin protested, "Don't! You might even know her."
Xie Jinglan replied, "Stop beating around the bush. Spit it out."
Shen Lin nodded with a smile and continued, "I asked the owner, 'Whose daughter is this, to be so stunning?' At first, he refused to say, but I was too curious, so I used silver to make him relent."
Only then did he open up, saying that a procurement steward named Tang Zhu from Anyuan Marquis Manor had hired a painter from his shop to secretly observe a stunningly beautiful maidservant in the manor and requested a painting of her, titled "Painting of a Beauty Half-Veiled in Light Gauze."
After it was completed, the shop owner was so taken with it that he had the painter alter the attire and kept a copy in his own gallery. For a time, scholars flocked to see it, with visitors never ceasing throughout the day.
"But I’ve been here for two days now—why haven’t I seen such a beauty in your manor?"