It was the depths of winter, the twelfth lunar month, with silver snow drifting through the air.
Yun Ni had just sold more than a dozen carefully skinned rabbit pelts and received ninety copper coins in return.
She held the coins in one hand and the strap of her carrying basket in the other, happily counting her earnings.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to buy several pounds of white rice, two pounds of pork, and a jug of rapeseed oil.
After all, the New Year was approaching. She ought to have something good to eat.
Yun Ni couldn’t afford expensive pepper-and-cypress wine or prepare a lavish feast for guests, but steaming a pot of fragrant white rice and braising a few bowls of meat in soybean paste was still within her means.
She couldn’t wait to return home and show off her earnings to her husband, Shen Tinglan. But as she passed a bookshop, she suddenly stopped.
A group of scholars dressed in padded robes were entering and leaving the shop, carrying freshly purchased writing brushes, ink, paper, inkstones, and several books.
Yun Ni’s heart stirred.
She remembered that Shen Tinglan could read and write too. Once, using his long, elegant fingers to hold a charred stick from the firewood, he had traced powerful strokes in the snow.
It had been the first time anyone had ever taught Yun Ni how to read.
She had been excited, yet completely at a loss.
When Shen Tinglan’s gentle, refined voice sounded beside her ear, she had stumbled over the words:
“Yun… like the yun in white clouds. Ni… maybe like the ni in mud…”
Unlike the others, Shen Tinglan hadn’t laughed at her.
He had merely paused before gently taking her hand and guiding her as she wrote.
His voice had been soft.
“Not mud from the earth. It means the colorful clouds in the sky—the rainbow-like glow of heavenly clouds.”
Yun Ni had never known that her name carried such an elegant meaning.
She breathed in the faint, clean scent of grass and wood that seemed to cling to Shen Tinglan, and her mind began to wander. Her back, pressed closely against his broad chest, gradually grew warm beneath his embrace.
Enclosed in Shen Tinglan’s arms, Yun Ni became momentarily dazed by the familiar intimacy between husband and wife. Before long, her hand lost its strength, and the charcoal stick slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground.
Shen Tinglan seemed to realize something.
His dark eyes deepened, and his sharp Adam’s apple moved slightly.
He reached down, hooked an arm beneath Yun Ni’s legs, and lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
“It’s late. Lamp oil is expensive, so we should conserve it. Why don’t we go to bed early?”
At those words, Yun Ni’s soft heart immediately tightened.
She remembered how fierce Shen Tinglan could be in bed. Although he appeared slender and refined, beneath his robes was a narrow waist lined with prominent muscles and veins, giving him an intimidating strength.
Yun Ni’s calves trembled at the memory of those countless delicate kisses he had once pressed against the scar on her ankle.
When Yun Ni was young, she had been beaten badly and fractured her ankle, leaving behind a frightening, jagged scar.
She limped slightly when she walked, and whenever it rained, the cold dampness would cause an ache to flare through the old injury. She couldn’t handle overly strenuous farm work, so she made a living hunting in the mountains instead.
Although Yun Ni had a pretty, delicate face, village families didn’t care much about whether their daughters-in-law were beautiful. What they wanted was another pair of hands—someone who could work the fields, manage the household, and raise children.
Even when the village chief tried to find Yun Ni a husband, he couldn’t find a man willing to marry her.
Fortunately, during one of her hunting trips into the mountains, Yun Ni had accidentally found Shen Tinglan, badly injured and suffering from amnesia.
She had spent all the family’s savings treating his wounds. Taking advantage of the debt he owed her, she had managed to secure herself a considerate husband.
Shen Tinglan was kind and courteous, and he was handsome as well. He seemed perfect in every way.
Except for one strange habit—he was obsessed with touching and kissing her injured ankle.
At night, Shen Tinglan especially liked to linger over the scar, brushing his lips and teeth against the old injury.
Whether deliberately or unconsciously, he always took advantage of the dim darkness inside their little house, holding Yun Ni firmly against him before lowering his thin lips and letting them wander along her neck…
Yun Ni had only recently become a wife and knew nothing about such matters.
She had never expected intimacy between husband and wife to be so exhausting, leaving her flushed and drenched in sweat.
…
Thinking about those embarrassing nights, Yun Ni couldn’t help rubbing her burning ears.
She counted the thirty copper coins she had left, gathered her courage, and stepped into the bookshop.
She bought an old sheep-hair writing brush and a roughly made stick of pine-soot ink as a New Year’s gift for Shen Tinglan.
When she returned home, Yun Ni immediately asked worriedly,
“Husband, did your heart ailment act up today?”
Shen Tinglan had somehow already risen from bed. He was sitting quietly at its edge.
He looked as though he had just awakened from a nightmare.
Cold sweat covered his forehead. His thin lips were bloodless, and his face was as pale as paper. His long black hair cascaded down to his waist, swaying with the loose folds of his robe.
When Shen Tinglan didn’t answer for a long time, Yun Ni grew anxious.
She put down her bamboo basket and hurried over.
“I told you I’d come home early. But then I wanted to buy some rice, and then I thought I should get two pounds of pork too. That’s why I came back late.”
As she spoke, Yun Ni excitedly took the stick of ink from her basket and held it out to him.
“I didn’t have enough money to buy writing paper. I’ll hunt more pelts and go back to the bookshop next time…”
Shen Tinglan lowered his gaze and stared at her for a long while.
Perhaps the sight of Yun Ni’s uneven, limping gait had somehow pierced him.
Before she could approach, his long, narrow eyes suddenly narrowed. His gaze turned sharp and chilling, like a predator locking onto its prey.
He seized Yun Ni’s slender wrist, stopping her in her tracks.
Yun Ni’s hand was suddenly trapped in his cold, powerful grip. The stick of ink in her hand trembled and fell to the floor, breaking cleanly in two.
Yun Ni stared at it with heartache.
“Oh… A stick of pine-soot ink costs ten copper coins. It’s so expensive.”
His grip around her wrist tightened painfully, bringing tears to the corners of her eyes.
Yun Ni didn’t understand why Shen Tinglan was behaving so strangely. She simply assumed that his heart ailment had flared up and put him in a bad mood.
It was partly her fault, too. She knew her husband was weak, yet she had stayed away from home for so long.
Yun Ni obediently apologized.
“All right, don’t be angry. I’ll come home earlier next time. I won’t leave you alone again.”
Perhaps her reassurance worked.
Shen Tinglan gradually calmed down and released her wrist.
His voice was hoarse and weary.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ll go cook first.”
Yun Ni pieced the broken ink back together, wrapped it with hemp twine, and placed it inside a broad leaf to protect it from moisture.
Before leaving the room, she glanced back.
Her eyes landed on the red bridal veil sitting in her sewing basket.
The little bit of resentment caused by Shen Tinglan’s unpredictable mood vanished instantly.
Most men wanted to be the pillar of their household, helping their wives manage the home.
But Shen Tinglan was frail and frequently suffered from his old injuries. He couldn’t accompany her outside to work either.
Being cooped up at home all day, it was only natural that he might become frustrated with himself.
She should be more understanding toward her husband.
Thinking about the red cloth she had spent her hard-earned money on, the corners of Yun Ni’s lips lifted.
A sweet feeling filled her heart once again.
She and Shen Tinglan had already agreed that after the New Year, the eighth day of the first lunar month would be an auspicious day for their wedding.
Although Yun Ni and Shen Tinglan had already become husband and wife in every sense, they had never formally held a wedding ceremony.
Now that she had a red bridal veil, they could simply invite a few familiar villagers and prepare a modest feast with wine. That would be enough to complete the wedding rites.
Shen Tinglan had told Yun Ni that in his hometown, it was customary for the bride to embroider a pattern on her own bridal veil, symbolizing a marriage that would last for a hundred years.
Yun Ni was terrible at needlework, but she wanted to grow old together with Shen Tinglan.
So she specifically went to one of the village women to learn embroidery.
After pricking her fingers until they bled, she finally managed to embroider a pair of mandarin ducks.
However, embroidering proper mandarin ducks required too much colored silk thread and would cost too much.
So Yun Ni had deliberately embroidered two pale-yellow ducks instead.
As long as they came in pairs and carried a good meaning, that was enough.
Thinking about the future—about the two of them growing old together in love—Yun Ni couldn’t help smiling.
Which married couple didn’t argue sometimes?
A little bickering and occasional hardship were simply part of married life.
Her temper was good anyway. She wouldn’t hold grudges against Shen Tinglan. Whenever something happened, she could simply turn a blind eye and let it pass.
By the time Yun Ni had finished simmering a pot of braised meat, stir-fried a plate of cabbage, and fried a dish of tofu, dinner was ready.
Shen Tinglan took the initiative to serve her rice and hand her the chopsticks. He even moved the bowl of meat closer to Yun Ni so she could reach it easily.
Seeing him give up the meat and eat only cabbage and tofu, Yun Ni’s heart softened again.
“Husband, eat more meat. If your body gets stronger, your illness might improve too.”
Shen Tinglan paused.
His long lashes lowered.
After a long silence, he quietly answered,
“All right.”
Yun Ni ate quickly and finished her meal early.
Shen Tinglan, on the other hand, was clearly a man raised in a wealthy household. He ate with refined elegance, slowly and methodically.
His handsome, immaculate features made even watching him eat a pleasure.
Yun Ni knew that the only reason Shen Tinglan was willing to live in the mountains was because he had lost his memory and couldn’t remember where his family lived.
One day, when his memories returned, he might leave.
But Yun Ni believed that because the two of them loved each other so deeply, he would take her with him when he left.
No matter how many difficulties stood in their way, they would face them together.
There was no need to worry too much.
At least, that was what she told herself.
Yet deep down, Yun Ni was still uneasy.
Perhaps she hadn’t even realized that, in order to add another “proof” of their deep marital affection and keep Shen Tinglan’s heart from wandering, she always carried a trace of ingratiation into their intimate moments.
Whether Shen Tinglan wanted to hold her from behind or asked her to brace herself against the wardrobe, Yun Ni would act shy and hesitant for a while before ultimately giving in to him.
But recently, Shen Tinglan’s heart ailment seemed to flare up frequently, and he had lost some interest in intimacy.
Often, he would stop after only once, unlike before when he would cling to her afterward, refusing to let go and insisting on holding her in his arms until they fell asleep.
Yun Ni found it strange, but she didn’t dare pry.
Perhaps he was simply young and vigorous and had overdone things before.
Maybe he had exhausted himself and was now lacking energy.
With that thought, Yun Ni cleared her throat.
“Husband, we still have some goji berries and black fungus at home. Tomorrow, I’ll buy a lamb kidney and make you some nourishing soup?”
Shen Tinglan was well-versed in traditional medicine. How could he not know that lamb kidney was traditionally considered nourishing for the kidneys and beneficial for vitality?
At her words, his fingers tightened around his chopsticks.
His voice dropped slightly.
“No need.”
“Oh… all right, then.”
Whether Yun Ni had wounded his male pride or something else was bothering him, she couldn’t tell.
That night, after several days without intimacy, Shen Tinglan suddenly caught her wrist, pulled her into his arms, and held her beneath him.
Afterward, Yun Ni was so exhausted that she could barely keep her eyes open before drifting into a deep sleep.
The weather was cold and snow was falling.
Yun Ni liked the warmth radiating from Shen Tinglan’s body and often clung to his arm, nestling herself against his chest.
But the man who should have been sleeping suddenly opened his eyes in the darkness.
His cold, emotionless gaze settled on the woman in his arms.
Carefully, he brushed aside the damp strands of hair clinging to Yun Ni’s cheek.
His fingertips rested against her pale neck and slowly traced its length.
Although Yun Ni was merely a country girl, she rarely worked beneath the scorching sun. The skin beneath her clothes was soft and fair, yielding easily beneath the slightest pressure.
Shen Tinglan slowly curled his long fingers around her neck, as though silently measuring just how fragile the bones beneath his touch were—and how easily they could be broken.
Before he could exert any force, the woman in his arms suddenly frowned and let out a soft, sleepy sound.
Yun Ni thought Shen Tinglan had become interested again.
Half-asleep, she swatted his troublesome hand away and mumbled,
“It’s too late. Not tonight. Go to sleep…”
Shen Tinglan pressed his thin lips together.
After thinking for a moment, he withdrew his hand.
The man quietly got out of bed and picked up the coarse cloth robe that had fallen to the floor.
He fastened his belt and stepped into the cold night.
Without haste, he walked out of the house.
He gazed toward the endless mountains in the distance.
Then, with a simple whistle, a sharp-clawed hawk with a powerful beak swooped down through the night, spreading its broad wings as it happily landed on his arm.
Once the hawk had settled, Shen Tinglan casually stroked its feathers.
His voice was cold.
“Call Wei Lingfeng into the mountains.”