The sole of her foot suddenly slipped.
In an instant, the unexpected accident sent Jiang Yao pitching forward.
Just as she was about to crash directly into the desk, a pair of strong arms appeared in time, wrapping firmly around her waist and preventing her from hitting the hard surface.
The expected pain never came. Instead, she was pulled into a warm embrace, her forehead pressing against his shoulder blade. Jiang Yao froze.
Holding her securely at the waist, Pei Zheng closed his eyes briefly to steady himself. When he opened them again, his voice was cold as he scolded the woman in his arms.
“You said you wouldn’t fall? That you were steady?”
Jiang Yao came back to her senses and stiffened her neck in protest. “It was the shoes, and the chair wasn’t stable either.”
She pulled herself out of his arms, her face still carrying a faint trace of lingering fear—and guilt.
She glanced at the culprit chair and kicked it twice for good measure, refusing to look at his expression.
Because she already knew it would be very ugly.
Seeing that she was still being stubborn, Pei Zheng let out a short, humorless laugh. “Even a three-year-old knows not to step on wooden supports and put themselves in danger. One should never rely on luck. If you gamble on ‘just in case,’ the outcome will be exactly what just happened.”
If he had not been watching closely and reacted in time, she would have hit the desk by now.
The desk was made of solid wood, hard and carved with intricate patterns. If she had fallen onto it, at best she would have been injured, at worst—
His breath caught slightly at the thought, unwilling to imagine further.
Yet the person in front of him still did not seem to grasp the seriousness of it.
Jiang Yao shot him a sideways glance. “If you keep talking, I’m going to get angry.”
She admitted she had been in the wrong, but his endless lecturing was also unacceptable.
Pei Zheng gave a faint, almost helpless smile.
So it was one of those situations where even speaking was forbidden.
And yet she had just said she did not get angry easily.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked after exhaling softly.
Jiang Yao shook her head.
His expression eased slightly. “Do not be so reckless again. Do you understand?”
She waved a hand dismissively, signaling that she understood, then picked up the letter on the desk and handed it to him.
“A letter to be sent to Jinling. I’ve finished it. Send it together with the return gifts.”
So it was a letter for Jinling.
Pei Zheng nodded and reached out to take it.
“Wait.” As his hand came forward, Jiang Yao suddenly pulled it back, eyeing him warily as if guarding against a thief. “You wouldn’t secretly read it, would you?”
Pei Zheng straightened, his expression turning cool and proper. “Reading another person’s letter without permission is the conduct of a petty man.”
Jiang Yao snorted lightly. “Who knows if you’re really a gentleman?”
Thinking she did not trust him, Pei Zheng’s gaze darkened slightly as he looked at her steadily.
“If you are uneasy, you may ask someone else to deliver it. I will not touch it.”
He stood tall in his purple official robes, his bearing upright and dignified. His eyes were deep and restrained, faintly clouded with displeasure.
Jiang Yao blinked, confused. “I was just joking. Why are you so serious?”
She handed the letter back to him again.
But Pei Zheng did not take it. His voice lowered.
“Because I will take it seriously.”
Sometimes he truly could not tell whether her words were jokes or sincere remarks.
Even when she smiled or frowned, or ignored him, he often did not understand why.
In the official world, he had seen every kind of person—those who spoke truth and meant deceit, those who wore masks as easily as breathing. Even he himself had long learned to speak only after careful consideration.
But at home, even among family, no one had ever joked with him like this.
A casual remark like “who knows if you are a gentleman” could easily be interpreted as calling him a petty man.
A petty man.
No one had ever called him that to his face before—especially not his newly wedded wife.
Even for someone as composed as he was, it was not something easily accepted.
Jiang Yao opened her mouth, but no words came out at first.
Thinking of his rigid nature and serious temperament over the past few days, she muttered, “You’re really an old-fashioned stick-in-the-mud.”
Meeting his gaze, she quickly added, “Of course I don’t mean that as an insult. It’s just… the truth.”
That still sounded wrong.
She sighed. “Forget it. I don’t dislike you. And in my eyes, you’re not a petty man either.”
Saying that, she shoved the letter into his hands and quickly left the desk area, almost like she was escaping.
Pei Zheng looked down at the envelope with its bold, careless handwriting. A faint smile flickered in his eyes as he set it aside carefully, intending to send it later.
He followed her into the outer room and saw her sitting by the tea table, curiously examining the oil-paper packages.
“What is this?” she asked.
Sitting beside her, Pei Zheng replied casually, “Something I bought on the way back. Try it.”
Surprised, she opened the first package.
A strong wheat aroma spread out. Inside were round white cakes sprinkled with sesame seeds, still faintly warm.
“What kind of cake is this?” she asked, poking it.
“It looks somewhat like sesame flatbread, but it doesn’t have a roasted fragrance.”
“Steamed cakes,” he said.
She raised a brow, broke off a small piece, and tasted it.
“It’s not bad.”
Soft and slightly sweet, different from flatbread, but pleasant.
He gave a quiet “mm.”
The next moment, a piece of cake appeared in front of him. He instinctively opened his mouth and ate it.
Their fingers brushed his lips for an instant. Both of them froze.
Jiang Yao immediately withdrew her hand and quickly moved on to the next package.
Inside were preserved fruits. She picked one up and ate it. “The peach preserves are good. I like them.”
Pei Zheng lowered his gaze, chewing slowly before swallowing.
Indeed, it was sweet and soft.
She sampled everything in the packages, except for the water chestnut candy. After biting into it once, she directly fed it to him.
The overly sweet taste made him frown deeply.
He silently thought that he should have left it for Mingrong instead.
At dinner, he finally remembered something important.
“In a few days, come into the palace with me.”
“Alright,” Jiang Yao replied immediately.
Her answer was so quick that it made him glance at her. “You’re not going to ask why?”
Jiang Yao tilted her head. “Isn’t it just the Emperor’s idea—he wants to see whether we’re acting for real, half-real, or fake-real?”
Her chaotic phrasing left him momentarily speechless, but seeing that she was not worried, he relaxed.
As for Pei Mingrong’s complaint, he said nothing.
Even if Jiang Yao knew, she would not care.
After all, she had already taken what she wanted—and she did so openly.
And if he were to question her, she would not return a single thing either.