Xie Jinglan arrived at Xianghe Pavilion to find Shen Lin and Prince Chen had already replaced the celadon teacups on the table with wine.
The three had always been close friends, and in private gatherings, they dispensed with formalities and polite niceties.
“We agreed to drink tea, yet here we are with wine,” Xie Jinglan remarked coolly, sweeping his robes aside as he took a seat.
Shen Lin flicked open his folding fan with a snap, his fox-like eyes narrowing slightly behind it. “Yesterday, the Marquis of An Yuan played the hero saving a beauty. Sipping plain tea hardly suits such a romantic tale!”
Prince Chen, Xiao Jinyu, shared Shen Lin’s curiosity about the matter, even harboring some disbelief.
In his memory, Xie Jinglan had always shown no interest in romantic affairs, even detesting the scent of cosmetics.
The only thing that could stir his emotions was probably military reports.
Years ago, Xiao Jinyu had been an inconspicuous prince. Later, following Xie Jinglan on campaigns and achieving remarkable military feats, his reputation in the court soared, allowing him now to rival the Crown Prince.
Xiao Jinyu had only ever seen him bloodied on the battlefield, cutting down enemies without mercy. It was hard to imagine him holding a woman in his arms.
So, he joined Shen Lin in teasing, “I wonder what kind of beauty could make the Marquis of An Yuan, who usually prefers tranquility, accompany her to the bustling Wanwei Jiahui. And today, I noticed dark circles under your eyes—take it easy, lest that beauty exhausts you.”
Xie Jinglan poured himself a cup of tea and replied coldly, “Instead of meddling in others’ private affairs, the two of you should focus on taking more concubines for yourselves.”
Shen Lin snorted, feigning grievance. “I’d like to, but your sister won’t allow it.”
As he spoke, his mind raced, and he suddenly snapped his fan shut, slapping his forehead. “The portrait! The one you’re close to must be the woman in that portrait, right?”
Seeing Xie Jinglan drink his tea in silence, which amounted to tacit agreement, Shen Lin’s eyes narrowed with a mix of annoyance and amusement. He tapped the fan against his palm, realizing he’d been deceived by Xie Jinglan’s seemingly ascetic exterior.
“Well played, Xie Jinglan! No wonder something felt off when I visited the Hou Manor last time—you were hiding a beauty away!”
“What portrait?” Xiao Jinyu asked, puzzled.
Shen Lin explained indignantly, “I once saw a portrait of a stunning woman at a painting studio. The owner said it was a copy of a maid from the Anyuan Marquis Manor. When I went to pick up Xie Wan, I paid special attention but didn’t see any woman with such looks. I asked him about it, and he insisted I must have been mistaken. Not long after, that studio was raided by the authorities. Now, thinking back, it all seems suspicious. Tsk, tsk, tsk… Who would have thought you, Xie Jinglan, were also a lustful man?”
Xiao Jinyu chuckled. “So there was such a thing. Even someone as cunning as you, Shen, could be fooled.”
Turning to Xie Jinglan, he added, “At least there’s someone in your manor to warm your bed now. Otherwise, we’d have thought you had some hidden ailment. But come to think of it, a maid with such extraordinary beauty—could she be a ‘rouge assassin’ sent by some political rival?”
Unable to withstand their relentless teasing, Xie Jinglan finally drank some wine.
Fortunately, his tolerance was exceptional. Despite several rounds of toasts, only the corners of his eyes turned slightly red, while his gaze remained as clear and sharp as a cold, deep pool.
When he left, he carried a vermilion lacquer food box containing Xianghe Pavilion's famously exquisite "Ningxue Plum Blossom Fragrant Cake." It was said only three steamers were made daily, and the price was naturally exorbitantly high.
Upon returning to Tingsong Courtyard, he first had a young maid deliver the food box to Wen Ning.
After returning from Old Madam's quarters, Wen Ning had been staying in the room she shared with Nanny Xue, her thoughts tangled like hemp.
Seeing the delivered food box, she asked the maid, "Where has the Marquis gone?"
The young maid smiled and replied, "The Marquis drank some wine today and said he would first bathe to dispel the alcohol. He instructed me to bring these pastries to you, miss, fearing that if too much time passed, the sugar frosting would clump together and spoil the taste."
After speaking, the maid went off to attend to other tasks.
Wen Ning opened the vermilion lacquer food box and saw that the pastries were exquisitely crafted. Shaped like plum blossoms, they had flaky crusts, with honey jelly adorning the pistils and an extremely fine layer of sugar frosting covering the surface. When held up to the light, they looked as if dusted with freshly fallen snow.
She picked up one and took a small bite. The crisp coolness of the crust blended with the fragrance of aged plum paste, sweetness and sourness wrapped in the essence of hundred-flower honey and a hint of saltiness, along with bits of undissolved plum flesh. The flavor lingered on her lips and teeth, sweet but not cloying.
"Is it delicious?"
Wen Ning looked up, not knowing when Xie Jinglan had entered. He had changed into a moon-white robe, loosely tied at the waist with a silk cord of the same color, appearing plain and almost austere.
His tall frame cast a shadow that enveloped her completely.
Glancing down, he noticed a smear of golden honey at the corner of her lips. He reached out with his thumb, gently rubbing it, the glistening honey slowly spreading across her lips, warm, soft, and sticky.
Without waiting for her answer, Xie Jinglan hooked an arm around her slender waist and, with a slight exertion, lifted her from the chair.
She gasped in surprise, instinctively clutching the silk cord at his waist, but he took the opportunity to cup the back of her neck and press his lips fiercely against hers.
A faint scent of alcohol, mingled with the fragrance of plum, seeped deeper as their tongues intertwined, plundering every trace of sweetness. Only when her breath grew ragged did he pull back, his voice husky as he murmured, "…So sweet."
Wen Ning's cheeks flushed with intoxication as she lowered her head, panting softly. "This servant will go prepare some sobering soup for the Marquis."
As soon as she tried to move her waist, the hand at her back tightened abruptly. With a firm press of his fingers, he pulled her back into his embrace. "No need. This Marquis is not drunk."
Wen Ning's gaze fluttered like butterfly wings. Wanting to break the awkwardness of the moment, she returned to the earlier topic. "This servant thanks the Marquis. The pastries were delicious."
Xie Jinglan chuckled softly, his thumb brushing the corner of her lips. "I tasted them just now. They're not as delicious as you."
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, her fingers fumbled nervously with the silk cord at his waist.
Xie Jinglan clasped her wrist, his grip not forceful but unyielding. "Ning'er, can you write?"
Wen Ning was taken aback, unsure why he suddenly asked this. Not daring to answer directly, she instead asked, "What does the Marquis need this servant to write?"
Xie Jinglan gazed down at her, his tone almost commanding. "This Marquis wants you to no longer lower your head and listen to others' gossip. Just walk forward, do whatever you wish. If you enjoy the kitchen, you can open a food shop. If you like gathering herbs in the mountains, you can open an herbal medicine store. As long as you wish to do it, even if you cannot read, this Marquis can teach you, word by word."
He had never cared about idle gossip, but he feared… she did. He did not want her to reject or push him away because of those irrelevant people.
He did not want her as a bedchamber maid, nor did he want her as a concubine. He wished for her to have more of her own things, so that she could stand by his side without any reservations.
Would she understand?
Wen Ning’s breath caught, her eyes stinging intensely. The very things she longed for had been spoken aloud by him, one by one.
The tempting promise wrapped around her reason like melted honey, sweet enough to make her dizzy. Yet she feared that once she gave in, there would be no turning back.
Seeing her like this, Xie Jinglan pinched the soft flesh of her cheek between his thumb and forefinger, applying a slight pressure. “Ning’er, can you write? If not, this marquis will begin teaching you tonight.”