The voice wasn’t loud, but Xiao Xian’s hearing was sharp. Thin lips parted to utter a single, indifferent word: “Necessary.”
Li Miaomiao pursed her lips in frustration. She wasn’t exactly a ravenous beast, after all. “I’m not that desperate.”
“Your tastes are certainly… particular,” he retorted.
It was a thinly veiled jab at the fact that, out of all the men she could have chosen yesterday, she had picked him. Li Miaomiao bit the inside of her lip, her eyes narrowing as she glanced pointedly at his lower half with a saccharine-sweet smile. “A pity my judgment isn’t as good as it could be.”
As for why it wasn’t good, she let that sink in for him to figure out.
Xiao Xian’s gaze darkened; she was goading him. Sensing the freezing aura radiating from him, Li Miaomiao felt inexplicably delighted. She kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, noticing him reaching for the water cup on the low side table. A sudden flash of inspiration struck her.
“I know exactly what to make now!”
She scrambled inward, one foot on the bed and one on the edge, appearing as if she were hovering right over Xiao Xian. The sudden outburst killed his desire for a drink. Staring at her unrefined posture, he muttered coldly, “Move inside.”
Realizing how suggestive the position looked, the woman froze. The tung-oil lamp was still burning; thinking of his limited mobility, she turned to climb down and extinguish it. But when she climbed back up, she tried to take a shortcut, stepping onto the edge of the bed and lunging forward in one long stride.
It was ill-timed. As she moved, Xiao Xian turned onto his side, his knee catching her ankle. Her balance, already precarious, vanished instantly. She gasped as she felt herself toppling toward the floor.
A pair of large, firm hands clamped onto her shoulders and hauled her back toward the mattress. Still reeling from the shock, and assuming he was about to toss her off, she splayed her legs to catch her balance on the quilt—but her foot slipped.
She landed squarely on the root of Xiao Xian’s thighs.
Li Miaomiao felt her face heat up. So much for not being “desperate”—the karma arrived quickly, didn’t it?
In the few seconds she spent processing her embarrassment, Xiao Xian’s expression darkened even further. “Reluctant to leave?”
She had intended to move, but his snide remark ignited her temper. She shot back, “If you were someone stronger, maybe. But you? It’s not worth the effort. I’m afraid of getting a stye just by looking.”
She punctuated her sentence by deliberately glancing down toward his abdomen.
A stye!
Xiao Xian’s eyes plummeted into shadow. She was attacking his dignity as a man. As she tried to scramble up, he caught her by the wrist and yanked her down, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register. “Whether it’s a stye or not… you’ll only know if you try.”
Pinned down, Li Miaomiao found herself in a compromising position. She struggled, but the more she fought, the more dangerous the situation became. A deep crimson bloom spread from her neck up to her earlobes. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her lips trembled just as violently.
“Xiao Xian… let me go.”
Xiao Xian pulled her upper body toward him. Their eyes locked, separated by no more than a fist’s distance. Li Miaomiao’s hands were pinned behind her back; she looked down at the hand gripping her waist and felt as though he might snap her in two. She gasped in pain, her eyes welling with tears.
“Xiao Xian, let me go!”
He had only used a fraction of his strength, yet she was already on the verge of tears. What a fragile creature, he thought.
“Li Miaomiao, I warned you: stop provoking me!”
He released her wrists and shoved her backward. Li Miaomiao collapsed onto the bed like a fragile rabbit before he turned his back on her, pulling the quilt tight as he faced the wall.
Li Miaomiao rubbed her aching waist, puffing out her cheeks as she glared at the man’s back. If she weren’t so afraid of pain, she would have had her way with him tonight. Yanking the quilt over her shoulder, she turned away, settling in back-to-back with him.
Since there was no longer a place for her at her family home, she had no intention of returning for the traditional post-wedding visit. Three days later marked the village market day, and she needed to finish her creation by then.
From that morning on, she spent her days in the backyard felling trees. Lacking a chisel, she used her hatchet to whittle them down inch by laborious inch. Every day was filled with the sounds of her hammering and sawing, while Xiao Xian sat in his room, silently counting his pebbles. Beyond meals and sleep, they ignored one another entirely.
By the final night, Li Miaomiao was still working outside. Without sandpaper, she had to use scouring rush—a rough, reed-like plant—to buff the wood until the surface was smooth. As for dinner, since Xiao Xian had told her not to provoke him, she wasn’t about to go out of her way to seek his company. She didn’t have the time to cook, and if he wanted to eat, he could fend for himself.
With her back turned to his room, she buried herself in her work, unaware that Xiao Xian had even entered the kitchen. By the time she finished, it was the Hour of the Bo (roughly 10:00 PM). She scrubbed her wooden box inside and out with dried grass, then placed it in her back basket, which was lined with straw to ensure the bamboo weave wouldn’t scratch her finished product.
In her past life, she had often worked until she forgot to eat while finishing custom furniture. Once she pushed past the initial hunger, it simply vanished. She skipped dinner, washed her face and feet, and prepared for bed.
Xiao Xian’s room was to the left of the main hall, so she had to pass through it to get to her own sleeping quarters. As she walked in, she noticed the tung-oil lamp was still burning. By its dim light, she spotted a bowl sitting on the table.
She leaned in, squinting. It was a bowl of porridge.
Li Miaomiao blinked, confusion swirling in her mind. “When did he cook this?”
She glanced toward the door of his room. Moonlight spilled through the lattice windows, casting a silver glow onto the bed. She could just make out his silhouette—a man with the delicate, refined features of a scholar, yet possessing a tongue sharp enough to kill. She bit her lip, sat down at the table, and picked up her chopsticks, eating the white porridge in silence.
She took one bite, and her hand froze. She looked back toward his door. “He… he added lard to the bowl.”
Porridge with lard had a rich, savory aroma that made it far superior to plain white rice. Li Miaomiao stared at the bowl, the man’s earlier words echoing in her mind:
“Do you know how my legs were broken?”
“Other than the name ‘Xiao Xian,’ you know absolutely nothing about me.”
Li Miaomiao tightened her grip on the chopsticks, her brow furrowed. Beyond his name, she truly did know nothing about him.
At the first quarter of the Hour of the Rabbit (roughly 5:15 AM), Li Miaomiao rose to cook breakfast and pack her goods for the city. They were heading to Wuhe County, which was over an hour’s journey from Li Village, so the villagers always departed at the fourth quarter of the hour—6:00 AM.
She tucked her ten coins into her pocket and placed Xiao Xian’s breakfast on the table. She was about to shoulder her basket and leave, but she hesitated, turned, and stood before his closed door. Her voice was crisp and surprisingly gentle.
“I’m off to the market. Breakfast is on the table; remember to eat it when you wake up.”
Listening to the sound of the front door latching shut, Xiao Xian slowly opened his eyes. He stared up at the mosquito net, his dark eyes swirling with a complex, unreadable emotion.
Better that you don’t come back at all, he thought.
By the time Li Miaomiao reached the village entrance, villagers were already trickling out. She simply fell in line behind them. Auntie Pang and Auntie Liu’s families were also heading to the market, but after the events of the past few days, they gave her a wide berth, looking at her with thinly veiled trepidation.
“Li Miaomiao? You’re going to the market, too?”
In the past, the original Li Miaomiao would never have dreamed of joining such a trip. She gave a faint, indifferent nod and retreated to the back of the line, keeping to herself. Seeing her lack of interest in conversation, Auntie Liu wisely kept her mouth shut.
Traveling to the market was almost exclusively done on foot. Only a handful of families owned donkey carts, and those were strictly reserved for hauling heavy cargo; for everyone else, the road was traveled with their own two feet.