"Hmm? Does Ning'er know how to write?"
Xie Jinglan was usually indifferent toward others, but with her alone, he insisted on getting to the bottom of things, always seeking clarity.
Wen Ning raised her hand and gently covered his wrist, guiding his large palm away from her cheek.
Then she slowly uncurled his fingers, flattening them.
Xie Jinglan raised an eyebrow, allowing her to proceed, his palm obediently spread out before her.
His hand was much broader than hers, with a thin layer of calluses on the fingertips and the fleshy part between thumb and forefinger—rough yet warm. However, a fierce scar ran across his palm, likely left by a sharp blade piercing through flesh.
Wen Ning had seen many scars on his body—wounds from blades, arrows, and even one near his heart that had nearly taken his life.
Even so, whenever her gaze fell upon this scar, her heart still trembled involuntarily.
She pursed her lips, her fingertips tracing across his palm, sending a tingling sensation through him.
Xie Jinglan closed his eyes, focusing his mind, following the movement of her finger, the character forming in his heart.
It turned out she had written the character for "no"!
His large hand closed, capturing her fingertips before she could withdraw them.
A smile curled at the corners of his lips. "How dare you tease this Marquis like this? Tonight, I shall punish you by making you write my name three hundred times!"
And so, Wen Ning truly followed him to the study.
Not only did she write his name, but she also meticulously recorded the medicinal cuisine she usually prepared and the method of pricking acupoints and sucking blood during poison flare-ups.
Her neat, small regular script was both orderly and spirited.
"It has been a long time since I last wrote. I hope the Marquis does not find it displeasing."
She looked up, just as he lowered his gaze to look at her.
Xie Jinglan picked up the sheet of paper filled with his name and praised, "It is written very well. One can tell it was honed through practice since childhood."
But when his eyes fell upon the other sheets, a different meaning flickered in his gaze.
Wen Ning stood up and said softly, "It is all thanks to my mother's affection for this servant. Although my mother lived outside the main residence, she hired all the tutors that a young lady of the manor should have, so I ended up learning a bit more."
Xie Jinglan nodded. "Your mother raised you exceptionally well."
He settled into the broad, sturdy rosewood armchair, his long arm pulling her in, causing Wen Ning to tumble unprepared onto his lap.
"In a few days, it will be the Chongyang Festival. Would you like to accompany me to the temple to pray for blessings?"
Her fingertips pressed against his chest as she remembered her agreement with the Old Madam. Her heart tightened, but she forced herself to remain calm and nodded.
Xie Jinglan suddenly grasped her fair, slender neck. The previously smiling eyes turned cold in an instant. "Then, Ning'er… do you still intend to flee?"
Wen Ning took a deep breath, not daring to meet his eyes, and whispered timidly, "This servant does not dare!"
A faint anger colored Xie Jinglan's eyes, yet the corners of his lips curled into a smile. "If that is the case, why did you write down the medicinal cuisine and the blood-sucking method? Could it be that you are attempting to escape again, yet worry that no one will be able to alleviate my poison flare-ups in the future?"
Suddenly having her thoughts laid bare, Wen Ning felt her heart pounding wildly, as if it were about to leap out of her chest. "This servant usually does these things. In the moment, I could only think of these, so I wrote them down."
Xie Jinglan lowered his gaze to stare at her, his narrow phoenix eyes deep and inscrutable. "If it is for my sake, then let it be. But you must know, I am no gentleman. If you dare to flee again, I will not hesitate to use a more direct method… to punish you!"
The hand gripping the back of her neck tightened slightly. Wen Ning winced in pain, inhaling sharply before biting down on her red lips.
She seemed to jolt awake in an instant. Xie Jinglan had always been as cold and distant as a solitary moon hanging in the sky. The indulgence, the concessions, the tenderness, and the sweet words—they were merely fangs he had retracted for her sake because of their intimate relationship.
Even ordinary men could not tolerate a woman by their side betraying and fleeing, let alone him—the Marquis of An Yuan, who killed without batting an eye.
The oppressive sensation of his knuckles gripping her made a burning flush uncontrollably spread across her delicate face.
Feeling the frantic pulse in her neck beneath his palm, Xie Jinglan suddenly relaxed his grip. His slender fingers gently brushed against the back of her head.
He realized that all his emotions lately seemed tied to her.
Even his usually cold and proud temperament had grown complicated.
Just like now.
With her, he could neither fully cherish nor punish her.
Wen Ning’s breathing remained erratic. A few faint red finger marks had already surfaced on her snow-white neck. Her long, raven-feather lashes trembled slightly, and a teardrop hung precariously at the corner of her eye, making her delicate face appear even more pitiful.
She didn’t even know what she had done wrong. From beginning to end, she had only wanted to live peacefully.
The two were pressed close together, and the man’s kiss naturally landed on the peach-blossom corner of her eye, gently sipping away that teardrop.
Xie Jinglan felt that whenever he was near her, he struggled to maintain control.
He let out a soft sigh, his long arm hooking around her waist. With restrained threat, he lifted her and placed her on the low couch.
The shimmering fabric spread over the couch was disturbed, and the velvet embroidered pillows were pushed askew.
“No… Marquis, this is the study…”
A punishing, scorching heat domineeringly invaded all that was beautiful about her.
Unable to resist, Wen Ning slowly yielded, her soft whimpers spilling out in a continuous, muffled stream.
The flickering candlelight cast a mottled glow over the entwined pair.
Wen Ning’s fingertips inadvertently slipped beneath the pillow and suddenly hooked out a piece of soft, lightweight fabric.
Amidst her half-hearted resistance, a tender hint of springtime color fell between them like scattered petals.
Her jade-like fingers lifted the fabric, and her glistening eyes suddenly cleared.
This was… her inner garment!
The one that had gone missing after the Marquis rescued her from Tang Zhu!
The lotus-colored inner garment had long lost its original crispness, wrinkled from repeated handling.
Her already flushed face burned even hotter.
“Marquis! How could you…”
The lingering tenderness was interrupted by this sudden, intimate item. Though Xie Jinglan’s expression remained calm, the tips of his ears visibly tinged with a faint red.
Should he tell her that he suspected she shared a similar scent with another woman, so he had taken her inner garment to investigate, even viewing them as the same person?
Or perhaps, deep down, that woman was her—because in his heart, it seemed there was no room for any other woman.
Even when unreasonable, Xie Jinglan would cling stubbornly to his stance.
A smile played on his lips as his slender fingers hooked the thin straps of the inner garment, easily bringing it back into his grasp.
His large hand gently kneaded it repeatedly, his voice low and husky. “Ning’er left this here herself. This Marquis was merely keeping it safe for you. How is it that you’re now questioning me instead?”
Wen Ning, watching the movement of his hands, shyly turned her face away. Her peach-blossom eyes were already captivating, but now they held a mix of fear and anger, like a small animal that had been bullied relentlessly.
Fuming, she straightened her clothes and fled the study as if escaping.
Watching her flustered retreating figure, Xie Jinglan chuckled softly, shamelessly remarking, “Thank you, Ning’er, for gifting this Marquis such a comforting item for peaceful sleep…”
It was enough to make one stamp their feet in frustration.
Wen Ning ran back to her room in one breath. Nanny Xue was doing needlework when she heard the commotion and looked up.
Her lotus-like face was flushed crimson, the tips of her ears tinged with a rosy hue. At the faintly visible collar of her dress, a stretch of snow-white neck was exposed, yet upon that jade-like skin, several ambiguous red marks were strikingly imprinted.