Before Pei Mu could react, Zhong Yizhu let out a short cry and immediately pulled the blanket over his head.
Pei Mu strode over in two steps and blew out the candle. He opened his mouth to explain, then realized anything he said would sound strange.
On second thought—he had simply bathed in his own home and hadn’t put on clothes yet. Why should he need to explain?
Silent, he set down his dirty clothes, took clean inner garments from the chest, and dressed. Even as he approached the bed, his brows were still tightly furrowed.
The moonlight tonight was bright, pouring through the lattice window and illuminating the figure curled beneath the blanket.
Pei Mu lifted the quilt and climbed into bed. The movement was small, yet the person beside him trembled violently.
Thinking of what had happened with Lai Lao’er, Pei Mu clenched his teeth and finally spoke:
“I didn’t mean to. I’m used to being alone—I forgot there’s someone else in the house now.”
Zhong Yizhu lay wrapped in the blanket, his heart pounding like a drum. The image from earlier refused to leave his mind. His face burned as both embarrassment and fear surged within him.
Was this… because Pei Mu intended to make up for what hadn’t happened last night?
Memories of past trauma and what the wedding attendant had told him flooded his thoughts, leaving him like a startled bird. Even the slightest movement from Pei Mu made him flinch.
It was also his first time seeing a man’s naked body. Heat flooded his entire being, making the already stifling blanket feel suffocating—he could barely breathe.
Hearing Pei Mu’s explanation, Zhong Yizhu froze, though he didn’t move.
Used to it…
When nothing else happened for a long while, he finally couldn’t hold his breath any longer and quietly pulled the blanket down just a little.
The moonlight was so bright that without even turning his head, he could see out of the corner of his eye—
Pei Mu’s ears were red.
For some reason, Zhong Yizhu suddenly felt his tension melt away.
He believed him.
Slowly, Zhong Yizhu turned over and let his whole head emerge from beneath the covers.
The room was silent. He wanted to say, “I understand,” but in the end said nothing—only closed his eyes, his ears just as red.
Neither of them slept well that night. The next morning, both woke up late.
Because of what had happened, they barely spoke after getting up.
Zhong Yizhu, thin-skinned, couldn’t even meet Pei Mu’s gaze.
After washing up, Pei Mu went to the backyard to deal with the animal pelts from the day before. Staring at the murky liquid in the wooden basin, he frowned, unable to understand how he’d done something so foolish the night before.
Did I eat too many of those cakes and poison myself or something…?
Each preoccupied with their own thoughts, they finished their chores and breakfast. Then Pei Mu picked up the prepared pheasants and rabbits, and silently set off with Zhong Yizhu toward the Zhong family’s old home.
The harvest had just ended, and it was now a lull in farm work. As soon as they entered the village, they drew countless stares.
Their marriage had been the hottest topic in recent days. Zhong Yizhu’s bold declaration—that he had chosen Pei Mu himself—had spread far and wide.
Some said he lacked modesty. Harsher voices called him shameless. Others muttered that if his family had other unmarried daughters or young men, their reputations would have been ruined along with his.
If he had married a desirable match, people might have understood—but Pei Mu?
That “ill-fated star”?
No one could make sense of it. Some even wondered if Zhong Yizhu had been bewitched—how else could he dare marry someone like Pei Mu?
Everyone knew Pei Mu’s past. His life was said to bring misfortune, his temper terrible. Even if Zhong Yizhu survived marrying him, who knew if he wouldn’t be beaten to death someday?
The villagers shook their heads. A delicate young man from the city—just looking at how fiercely Pei Mu had beaten Pei Jin, they doubted Zhong Yizhu could even withstand a single punch.
And now, even the customary third-day return visit showed no joy. Their gift was just a worn basket, Pei Mu’s face dark and silent, and Zhong Yizhu looked exhausted.
What kind of marriage is this…
Meanwhile, Sun Yunniang had been waiting since early morning.
For the past two days, Zhong Yizhu had been thinking of her—and she of him. She worried constantly: how he was getting along with Pei Mu, whether he was being mistreated, whether he was eating well.
She had tried teaching him to cook after his engagement. It should have been easy to learn—but after half a month, she had to admit that some people were simply not meant for the kitchen.
She worried he wouldn’t eat well… and also worried his poor cooking might earn him blame from his husband’s family.
She had prepared ingredients the day before, planning to cook him a nourishing meal.
Just after frying a dish of meat slices, she heard Zhong Yizhu’s voice at the door.
She hurried out, smiling—but the moment she saw his tired expression, her heart sank.
“Mother,” Zhong Yizhu called with a smile.
Behind him, Pei Mu stepped forward and handed over the basket. “Caught a couple of animals yesterday. Brought them for you to try.”
Only after taking it did Sun Yunniang realize they were both alive.
Such a return gift was generous—far beyond the usual eggs or a bit of pork. It eased her worries slightly.
She ushered them inside, serving tea and snacks—several plates of treats, all things Zhong Yizhu loved.
Sure enough, Zhong Yizhu happily popped a preserved plum into his mouth, then nudged the plate toward Pei Mu. “You should eat too—don’t be shy.”
Back home, with his mother present, he seemed much livelier than before.
Pei Mu silently picked up a piece of pastry. As he bit into it, he paused.
Sweet and fragrant—it was osmanthus cake.
After a while, Sun Yunniang called Zhong Yizhu to the kitchen.
“Come help me cook. We’ll pack these snacks for you to take back—don’t eat too much now or you won’t have room later.”
She then turned to Pei Mu politely. “Please rest here. Forgive me for not entertaining you properly.”
Pei Mu shook his head. “Call me if you need help.”
He knew Zhong Yizhu’s cooking would only create chaos—and that mother and son likely wanted to speak privately.
Left alone, Pei Mu held the osmanthus cake, lost in thought.
As a child, he had once imagined—what if his father had been someone like Zhong Yizhu’s?
In his hardest moments, he would dream of a life where he was fed, warm, safe… perhaps even eating osmanthus cake every day.
Now, seeing Zhong Yizhu, he realized how limited his imagination had been.
He popped a plum into his mouth, savoring the sweet-sour taste—and thought of how Zhong Yizhu had woken early to prepare food for him yesterday.
For once, he felt… fortunate.
Fortunate that Zhong Yizhu had married him.
Someone so naive, so clumsy—if he’d married elsewhere, he might have been used up and cast aside.
In the kitchen, Sun Yunniang grabbed Zhong Yizhu and checked him over—arms, neck—relieved to find no injuries.
“I was checking if he hit you,” she whispered.
Zhong Yizhu shook his head quickly. “Of course not.”
“And… in bed? Any strange habits?”
Zhong Yizhu flushed crimson. Thinking of last night, even his neck reddened.
“No…”
He didn’t dare admit they hadn’t consummated the marriage—his mother would only worry more.
Reassured, Sun Yunniang smiled. “Then why do you look so tired?”
Zhong Yizhu tugged at her sleeve softly. “I couldn’t sleep well… and I missed you.”
Lunch was warm and lively.
The table was filled with dishes—rich enough to rival a New Year’s feast.
Pei Mu took a bite and paused.
“Not to your taste?” Sun Yunniang asked.
“No. It’s very good.”
He was just surprised how different her cooking was from Zhong Yizhu’s…
After eating, they prepared to leave.
Sun Yunniang packed snacks for Zhong Yizhu. He kept looking back as they walked away, reluctant to leave.
After a while, Pei Mu spoke:
“You can come back anytime. I don’t mind.”
Zhong Yizhu shook his head. “People will gossip.”
Pei Mu snorted. “As if I care what they say.”
Zhong Yizhu looked at him, then suddenly asked, “Is it because my cooking is bad?”
Pei Mu: “You—!”
Annoyed, he strode ahead.
Behind him, Zhong Yizhu smiled softly.
He understood the kindness—but still…
Even if Pei Mu didn’t care, words could still hurt.
Better to endure less of them.
As they walked home, Pei Mu gradually slowed his pace.
Zhong Yizhu, carrying the basket, followed behind.
Not too close.
Not too far.
And like that, they returned home together.